Page 1 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Prologue
One year ago…
When Charlene agreedto meet David in the drawing room that evening, she had been certain of one thing—that he would propose. This was what she wanted. A match with David Cross was sensible, fitting. It would please her family, secure her place, and give her the life of comfort that any woman should aspire to.
Yet now, standing alone with him, that certainty felt like a fragile mask threatening to shatter. The glow of the candlelight did little to soften the sharp edge of his gaze, the quiet force behind his every gesture. A knot twisted in her stomach. She felt as though she had walked into a snare of her own making. This wasn’t what she wanted. And it wasn’t him. No, the truth was inescapable now. David wasn’t the man she had been longing for. He wasn’t the one who occupied her thoughts late at night when her guard was down. He wasn’t Adam.
“Do you not want more?” David’s voice held a note of quiet persuasion, his dark eyes locking onto hers in the flickering candlelight.
Yes.The thought came unbidden, a whisper in her mind, though her lips remained pressed into a thin line. Her hands clutched the fabric of her gown where it brushed her thighs. Warmth rose to her cheeks, though not from the intimacy of hisquestion. It was the weight of expectation, of boundaries she had allowed to blur far beyond what was proper.
David must have taken her silence as invitation.
The corner of his mouth turned up in the faintest smile, confident yet predatory, as if he could read her unspoken thoughts. He stepped closer, the scent of brandy clinging faintly to him, heady and suffocating.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Charlene. You feel it too, don’t you? This was always meant to be.”
Her lips parted to protest, but no words formed in time. His hand brushed along her sleeve, soft at first, then more insistent as he reached for her waist. She stiffened, her breath catching as he leaned forward, his gaze intent on her face.
And for just a moment, she almost looked into his eyes, almost tried to find the connection that seemed to shimmer just out of reach. But when she forced herself to lift her gaze to his, all she could think of was another set of eyes. Deeper, gentler, and far more piercing than David’s.
Adam.
The realization hit her like a crack of thunder. She wanted his brother. She always had. And yet here she was, standing far too close to the wrong man, slipping into a scandal of her own making. How had it come to this?
“Charlene,” David whispered, his voice low, his proximity overwhelming. “There is no need to deny what we both know to be true.” He leaned in farther as if to claim her lips, his breath warm against her skin.
“David,” she said firmly, stepping back with as much measured grace as she could muster. “You’ve misunderstood me.” Although he hadn’t. She’d misrepresented. At least to some extent.
The flicker of surprise that crossed his face was brief, but telling. His smile faltered, only to return with a practiced ease.He straightened, unfazed, his hand leaving her waist reluctantly. “Misunderstood? Dearest Charlene, that cannot be true. There is no need to feign propriety when we are practically betrothed. It is what my father wanted.”
His words plunged the room into an icy stillness. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She’d heard of the dying wish before, of course. David’s father’s last plea to her own parents that she marry into the Cross family—to one of his sons. But she had never considered what that truly meant until now that the duke was on his deathbed and she on a settee alone with one of his sons.
The wrong one.
“I’m well aware of your father’s wish,” she said carefully, lifting her chin in defiance of the trembling inside her. “But I do not believe this gives us free rein, David. You and I… nothing has been decided.”
David chuckled softly, taking another step toward her, forcing her back against the edge of the settee once more. “Oh, but I think it has been—by our fathers. If not already, it will be soon enough. Why not announce it when Adam returns from university, hmm? We could have the banns posted by winter.”
Her chest tightened, her fingers gripping the upholstery of the settee for balance. Adam. It all made sense now. His absence, his long months away, the freedom it had given David to pursue her unchecked. She wondered if Adam had any idea of the situation awaiting him when he returned.
“That is presumptive, David,” she replied, her voice clipped despite the tremor beneath it. “I’ve agreed to no such thing.”
David’s charm faltered again, just briefly, as another crack appeared in his polished demeanor. His voice dropped lower, colder. “You’re being impractical, Charlene. The match is perfect. The entire Ton expects it. Your family expects it. And sodo I.” The last words came as a growl that made Charlene’s blood curdle under her skin.
His candor left no room for misunderstanding this time. She recoiled as his entitlement washed over her, the air in the room heavy and oppressive. This was no courtship; this was an inevitability that he intended to impose.
David’s gaze flicked past her, narrowing as something behind her caught his attention. His mouth tightened, his expression sharpening into something dark, almost feral—like a wolf asserting dominance.
Charlene’s heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in her stomach. She turned instinctively to follow his gaze, but before she could fully turn, David’s hand shot out. His fingers gripped her jaw, angling her face back toward him, and before she could react, his lips pressed against hers.
Ugh!
The kiss was sharp and unyielding, laced with a demand she couldn’t abide. Panic gripped her as she placed her hands against his chest, shoving with all her might, but his grip only tightened. The room blurred around her, nothing but heat and the suffocating closeness of him.
“Stop!” she cried, her voice muffled against his insistence. He didn’t stop. Instead, he pressed harder, his other hand curling possessively at her waist as if to anchor her to him, to claim her entirely.
Desperation surged through her. Her hand scrabbled behind her, grasping for anything solid, anything that could free her from this nightmare. Her fingers caught something cold and smooth. A vase?
