Page 5 of Her Duke to Seduce
Felicity’s mind spun as she sat stiffly in the chair, her father’s words reverberating in her head. A season. A house party. A debut ball.
She felt trapped, as if the walls of the study were closing in on her, hemming her into a fate she had never desired. It was not enough that she had dutifully played the role of an obedient daughter, that she had never caused him scandal, that she had accepted her life as it was. Now, she was to be paraded before society like a prize and—if her father and aunt had their way—married off to some insipid gentleman who cared only for her dowry.
The very idea made her stomach turn.
“I see little point in this,” she said at last, struggling to keep the bitterness from her voice. “You know well that I am not suited for the marriage mart, nor do I desire to be.”
Her father’s gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “You are young, Felicity. You may think you know what you want now, but life has a way of surprising us.” He exhaled heavily, as though bracing himself. “I will not be here forever, my dear. I need to know that you are settled, that you have someone to care for you should anything happen to me.”
A pang of guilt pricked at her heart. She did love her father, even if she did not always understand him. He had been everything to her since her mother’s passing, and she knew, in his own way, he only wished to see her secure.
But marriage was not the solution.
“I do notneedsomeone to care for me,” she countered. “I am quite capable of managing on my own.”
He arched a brow. “And what do you propose to do? Remain unwed and buried in your books for the rest of your days?”
Her lips parted, but she had no answer. It was precisely what shehadintended, but hearing it spoken aloud—voiced with such exasperation—made it sound ridiculous. Society would never accept an unmarried woman without purpose. Eventually, she would be seen as a burden, an oddity, something to be pitied. “I will find another way,” she said stubbornly. “There must be some alternative tothis.”
“There is none,” he said simply. “Your aunt has already begun the arrangements. You are expected at Winston Manor in a sennight.”
Felicity inhaled sharply.A sennight.She had no time to prepare, no time to formulate a plan of escape. “I see,” she said at last, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Then I suppose I must make the best of it.”
Her father’s brows drew together in suspicion. “That is… an unexpected response.”
She managed a small smile. “Would you rather I throw a tantrum?”
“No,” he admitted, eyeing her warily. “But I know you, Felicity. I know that acquiescence does not come so easily to you.”
“I simply recognize the futility of arguing.” She shrugged. “You have made your decision, and I must abide by it.” For now. She had many plans to make. There was no way she would willingly allow herself to be married off to some insipid gentleman.
Her father studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decipher her thoughts. Finally, he nodded. “Good. I am pleased to hear it.”
She rose from the chair, smoothing her skirts. “Is there anything else, Father?”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “No, that will be all.”
Felicity curtsied with impeccable grace and turned toward the door. She felt his gaze on her as she left, but she did not falter. Not until she reached the hallway, where she pressed a hand to her stomach, steadying herself. She would go to Winston Manor. She would attend the house party. She would suffer through the debut ball. But she would not marry.
If her father and aunt expected her to become a proper young lady and obediently secure a match, they would soon learn how very mistaken they were. Felicity Hathaway had no intention of submitting to society’s expectations. No, she would do something far more scandalous. She would ensure that no respectable gentleman woulddareto offer for her.
And if that meant finding a rake—a true libertine—to assist her in her ruination, then so be it. A slow, mischievous smile curved her lips. Yes, she would play their game. But she would play itherway.
Two
Aiden Weston, the Marquess of Redding, did not like to be summoned. Even if the person doing the summoning was his father, the Duke of Templeton. He had no desire to leave London to attend his father at the ducal estate, least of all before the start of the season. He had reasons for wanting to remain in town, and none of them would be seen to if he were forced to spend time at his father’s estate.
He avoided his childhood home as much as possible since the death of his mother a decade earlier. It held too many memories—both good and bad. But for him, the bad far outweighed the good. The worst were his mother’s final days, memories he loathed to relive. That was the real reason he had resisted returning, and why he had been irked by the missive his father had sent, demanding his immediate presence.
His carriage came to a stop in front of the great house. Many would consider it an architectural masterpiece, constructed of limestone and gray stone, its tall mullioned windows adorned with dark, elegant shutters. The grand entrance boasted double oak doors framed by a columned portico, and above it, a balcony overlooked the long gravel drive leading to the estate. Soaringchimneys and turreted corners lent it an almost medieval grandeur.
As a child, he had loved this house. It had been a place of happiness and warmth. But after his mother’s death, it had become dark and foreboding. He longed to see his father and leave immediately. There was no reason for him to stay longer than necessary—at least, none that he was aware of. He exhaled sharply. He could only hope his visit would be brief. He wanted to return to London as soon as possible.
Aiden took one long, deep breath and stepped out of the carriage. He had dawdled long enough. One of the servants had likely already alerted his father to his arrival. Best to have this meeting over with. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could depart.
As he strode up the steps, one of the massive oak doors swung open. Aiden knew better than to be surprised. On the other side, Wells, their longtime butler, stood as poised and unflappable as ever.
“Hello, Wells,” he said. “Is my father in his study?”
