Page 6 of Her Duke to Seduce
“His Grace is in the library,” Wells informed him. “He is expecting you.”
The library? That was unexpected. His father did not typically spend his hours there. It had been his mother’s domain. Aiden swallowed hard. This visit was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated. If his father intended for them to speak in the library, it meant revisiting a room filled with ghosts. He exhaled, then forced himself forward. He had no choice but to endure this meeting—and pray he could keep his emotions in check. He paused outside the library door, gathering his composure. Then, pushing it open, he stepped inside.
The room smelled of polished wood, aged parchment, and the faintest trace of lavender—his mother’s favorite scent. He could not recall the last time he had entered this space. Hisfather stood at the far end of the room, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the gardens beyond. Aiden was careful not to look around, for he knew he would see traces of his mother everywhere—the chaise by the hearth where she had often sat, the writing desk where she had composed letters, the well-worn volumes she had once held in her hands.
Instead, he focused on his father. Taking several long strides across the room, he stopped a few feet away. “Father,” he said evenly. The duke did not immediately acknowledge him. Instead, he continued staring out the window in contemplative silence. Aiden clenched his jaw, waiting. His father had never been a man to be rushed.
After a few moments, the duke spoke. “Your mother would spend hours in this room.”
“I know,” Aiden said, his voice tight. He had spent many of those hours with her.
“She would be disappointed,” his father murmured. “In both of us.”
Aiden said nothing. He knew his mother would despair over what had become of their family. She had been the glue that held them together. Without her, they had become strangers in the same house. “She would have already spoken her mind on a great many things,” Aiden said at last, his voice carefully neutral.
“Indeed,” his father agreed. “But none more than your lack of a wife.”
Ah. So that was why he had been summoned. Aiden exhaled sharply. “I do not want a wife.”
His father’s lips twitched. “No man truly wants a wife, my boy. But that does not change the fact that you need one.”
“I am not ready.” He doubted he ever would be.
“I know,” his father said, softer now. “No man is truly prepared. But I made your mother promises, and I intend to see them honored. Starting with seeing you settled.”
“I did not make those promises,” Aiden replied tersely. But the words felt hollow. Would he truly betray his mother’s wishes, even now?
His father met his gaze. “And yet, you will honor them nonetheless.” He exhaled slowly. “Starting with attending the ball at Winston Manor tonight.”
Aiden stilled. “The countess is holding a debut ball for her niece,” his father continued. “I want you to go.” Aiden’s chest tightened. He could already see where this was leading.
His father held up a hand, cutting off his protest. “No, I do not expect you to court her niece. But I want you to begin looking at the unmarried ladies of the ton and determine if any of them might suit. It is time for you to start your search, and the ball is an excellent opportunity. You may return to London tomorrow and prepare for the season—but I expect you to attend social events with the intention of finding a bride.”
This was far worse than he had anticipated.
“And if I do not find a wife who suits me?” he asked coolly.
“As long as you make the effort, that is all I ask.” His father offered him a rare smile. “It will not be as terrible as you believe.”
Aiden scoffed. “You and Mother were in love. If I am to marry, that is the very least I would want. I have no interest in wedding merely to secure an heir.”
His father’s expression softened. “I would expect nothing less. I want you to be happy, Aiden. This is only the beginning. All I ask is that you approach this with an open mind. Do not dismiss every young lady outright.”
Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling in frustration. He wanted to argue. He wanted to refuse. But deep down, he knew his father would not let this matter rest. “No,” he muttered at last. “It is not too much to ask.”
“Good,” the duke said. “Then it is settled.” His father leaned back against the desk. “I have already accepted the invitation.”
Of course he had.
Aiden resisted the urge to curse. “I will be in my chambers until it is time to depart. I require rest after my journey.”
His father nodded. Aiden did not wait for further discussion. With a curt bow, he turned on his heel and strode from the library, his chest tight with suppressed frustration. He had already spent longer in that room than he would have liked. Now, he had mere hours before he would be forced into a ball he did not wish to attend, surrounded by hopeful debutantes eager to ensnare a titled husband.
It was going to be alongevening…
Felicity had chosento wear a color that no proper debutante would dare don at her debut ball. A shade so scandalous she fully expected her Aunt Enid to suffer an apoplectic fit. She rather looked forward to it. It was also why she had not stepped a foot outside her bedchamber until the last possible moment. She had no intention of allowing her aunt the opportunity to demand she change.
She was not some fresh-faced debutante of eight and ten, presented for the first time. She was twenty—nearly past the age of prime marriageability—and in some cases, already considered perilously close to being firmly placed on the shelf. As she had no desire for a husband, she had forgone a debut two years prior, and she would much prefer to do so now. She wished to be free, and acquiring a husband would never allow for that.
