Page 1 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Chapter 1
Nine Years Ago
Kitty was right, Lydia should not be there.
The words of warning seemed years away now instead of only a few hours. If Lydia had been wiser, then perhaps she never would have snuck out of the house in the first place. Father’s wrath was not something to be trifled with. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lydia knew that the consequences of her actions were going to be severe if she were to be found out.
Lingering somewhere behind Lydia was her ladies’ maid to act as chaperone. A woman old enough to be Lydia’s mother, but the woman was anything but motherly. Rather, she seemed the opposite. Her maid encouraged her to act in ways not conducive to society’s standards.
If it weren’t for her influence, Lydia would not have been able to come to the masquerade ball. Father had expressly forbidden it. He claimed that a woman ought not to ever have a reason to deceive a man and that a young lady would be tempting sin to pretend to be something other than herself.
“Do you have a favorite yet?” Martha, Lydia’s maid, asked with a secret smile.
Lydia’s face flushed at the implication of the words. “Even if I had decided on a favorite, it is not as if I should know who the gentleman truly is.”
“Sometimes that is part of the fun, is it not?” Martha smirked and extended a hand with wiggling fingers for the glass of wine in Lydia’s hand. “A lady is only young once, and certainly has even fewer opportunities to be as mysterious and alluring as she could possibly wish. It is best if you capitalize on it while you can.”
Lydia laughed softly, as Martha sipped the wine she had just taken from her.
“It is rather exhilarating, I will admit.”
Lydia reached up to carefully adjust the lace and pearl mask that she wore to obscure her facial features from view as she looked out over the seat of bodies. If she were being honest, this particular ball did have an entirely different mood than the others that she had attended this season.
Given that it was her first year in the marriage mart, she had to uphold every one of her father’s very strict opinions on what it means to be a lady. Which left her very little room tohave any fun. Even less so when father had given her a list of approved topics of conversation that she was not allowed to deviate from, no matter the circumstances.
Tonight, however, she could say anything that she wished. She couldbeanything that she liked.
She might still be a young girl of eighteen, but she knew her own mind. She knew her ow wants and desires.
Martha had taken great care in getting her ready for this event tonight. They had carefully chosen pearl accents to pin in her hair and a deep purple lace that matched the plum color of her gown. White satin gloves came up over her elbows, and a hint of rouge on her cheeks was only barely visible under the bottom half of her mask.
“There is still one more spot open on your dance card, miss, I suggest that you choose carefully.” Martha advised and finished off the glass of wine before starting to look for another. A poor chaperone, at best, but it was needed at an event like this one.
Despite having grown up around these people, Lydia could not have named a single one. So long as they also could not name her, she was safe.
Besides, there was one man in particular that she did have her eye set on. The only man in the room who hadboth refused to drink and dance with anyone. Lydia could not help but take it as a challenge that his standards seemed so impossibly high. Though, standing as tall as he did, she supposed he had room to be choosey.
No doubt he was titled. She could see it in the confident way that he stood, watching everyone in the room with those enchanting eyes. Even through the black mask that he wore to conceal his identity, those striking gray eyes so light they were almost silver held her attention time and time again.
Timidly, she turned her gaze in the direction of the man with such an intense stare. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that he was already looking in her direction. Lydia summoned more courage than she knew herself to have and straightened her posture, attempting to appear more… well, something.
The man in the black mask smiled, but it was not a kind gesture. It did not feel as if he were inviting her over; rather, challenging her to see if she was worthy of standing by his side. It felt like a test, the way that his head tilted ever so slightly to the side and never broke eye contact with her.
A thrill ran through her. A ripple of sensation that worked its way up from her spine to her chest and down around her fingertips. What might happen if she were to accept his challenge? What sort of prizes would lay there before her?
The choice clear. Stay there and enjoy the party then run home, or fully step into her ruse and see what might await her in his tempting gaze.
“If you don’t go, I will.” Martha chuckled from Lydia’s side, elbowing her softly in the ribs to encourage her.
It was all the push that she needed.
Lydia had never felt quite so powerful or important as when she took that first step and the man in the black mask’s smirk transformed into something she could only interpret as proud. Such a strange thing to wish to make a stranger proud. More than that, she wanted to impress him for reasons that she could not name.
When she reached his side, he stood at least a head taller than her, as she had to look up to see him properly. His broad stature was even more impressive up close. She could swear that she could see his muscles through the sleeves of his coat and yet, when he extended out a hand toward her, he did so with grace and softness.
“I was beginning to think that you were going to make me wait all night.” The man said, laughter in his voice despite the fact that his face no longer smiled.
Up close she could see that he could not be much older than her, only a couple of years perhaps.
