Page 19 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

She gives me a small curtsy, her eyes flashing with some unknown joke. “You may try, Your Grace. But better yet, may you fail in your endeavors.”

Gripping my fingers into fists, I watch her drift out of the room. So haughty, so impertinent. It’s enough that I long to pull her back into the confines of this space and spank her within an inch of her life. As much as I want to be here in this house, to help train her and make sure she’s at a peak level of performance, I can’t.

Either things will end in an unwanted marriage or her death. Though the latter is, of course, an exaggeration, the very real fear that I’ll forget myself and remove her innocence is all too valid a concern. I need to find some other occupation that will keep me out of the house, never seeing her until this blasted ball.

CHAPTER 9

Teresa

It’s only been a few weeks, and yet, it feels as if years have gone by. All the preparing, all the primping, in truth, all the torture, that’s been applied to my person has culminated in this moment. Though, to be fair, if I hadn’t lied to the duke about my skills, I wouldn’t have had to endure such endless lessons of things I already knew.

Putting up a farce and pretending to be better was far more exhausting than just doing it right the first time. However, I only have myself to be frustrated at. All of this was my doing and mine alone.

The only saving grace is that the duke has been somewhat unavailable during these lessons—lessons he so succinctly said he’d oversee. Curious that. Perhaps my skills with the blade deterred him from making even more of an arse of himself than he already has.

Still, though, it gave me room to breathe, room to be myself, even if just for a few precious moments. It’s not that I ever missed him. No. It’s more the fact that his absence caused me immense joy, and that, in and of itself, was noticeable.

Candlelight flickers over every available surface, making the room seem as if it’s made from precious stones. But I can’t truly admire any of it. My insides clench as heat licks up the sides of my cheeks. Tonight is certainly a crush, and the sheer number of bodies filling the ornate ballroom adds to the stifling warmth threatening to overwhelm me.

The only saving grace is that it’s at Foxford’s residence and not my own. At my townhome, I’d be far too concerned with these strangers mucking about, disturbing my father’s memories. I thought I’d recognize someone, but it seems the duke is correct in his proclamation that I have no friends.

My stomach flutters as the dinner from earlier threatens to rebel. Swarms of men and women flit by, their garish colors swirling into a vivid kaleidoscope that sends a wave of dizzying nausea up my throat. Or perhaps it’s just the nerves. I cannot tell anymore, and I have no way of taking my leave to ponder and figure out just what’s the matter with me.

I glance over the sea of bodies, my fingers tugging at the fabric binding me tight. It’s too much. Too hot, too tight. Everything itches, but I don’t dare scratch in front of the questioning eyes of the Ton, watching for anything they can report back to the gossip mongers.

This is in no way how I wish to spend my eighteenth birthday, surrounded by men looking at me as if I were a prized doe presented for feasting. Or better yet, like how the ladies sneer at me, as if I’m some pustule needing to be lanced. I cannot fathom what it is that causes their ire.

From how I understand it, my introduction to the queen omega went flawlessly. Even Foxford couldn’t find some quip to barb me with. In fact, if I’m not romanticizing things, he seemed almost proud. Though my performance wasn’t for him, and entirely to save my father’s good name, he certainly felt as if he could benefit.

Now, alongside a large dowry, I have the favor of the queen omega. Thankfully, I was not forced to perform my ‘skills’ in front of her, revealing to all I’m not nearly as inept as I purport myself. Though I’m not an Incomparable or a Diamond to be sure, she didn’t outright cast me from the palace. Is it jealousy then? Do these other women harbor some secret wish that they wanted me to fail somehow?

But why? None of them knows me. What consequence is it of theirs if the queen thought I was enchanting? It shouldn’t impact them or their daughters at all. Besides, comparing myself to the other pretty omegas and betas, I still have aspects about me that are considerably lacking.

Glancing down at my chest, I once more question if I should have put something in there to pad things out, to give the illusion of having assets I clearly don’t possess. But then, I’ve never stood behind pretense. Lying to Foxford about my skills as a lady is the furthest I’ve come to demeaning myself, and it won’t do to continue the charade outside of his presence.

Besides, the men here are looking to me to see if I’m worthy of being a bride. Best to allow them to see all my faults and possibly pass me by, dowry notwithstanding. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose by making my appearance more than it is, and so I sigh and once more mourn the fact I am so physically inadequate compared to the buxom beauties that steal the heated gazes of the men.

And so, the mamas should be grateful. How could their milk and water misses have compared if I had brains and beauty to accompany the large dowry to pad the pocket of the man who meets Foxford’s exacting standards? They shouldn’t hold me in contempt. If anything, they should let their anger burn against the men that require so much while giving up so little.

Next to me, Asher brings me a glass of punch and passes it over, his fingers gripping the fine china hard enough I fear he might break it. “What are you doing just standing here? Can’t you make yourself more agreeable somehow?”

“And what do you suggest, Cousin? Shall I loosen up my bodice and show the gentleman just what they will receive with Foxford’s thirty pieces of silver?”

From behind me, a deep rumble of laughter skitters down my spine, reigniting the intolerable heat until I’m nearly gasping for breath. “I cannot fathom how you can possibly draw a parallel between Judas and me when I’m selling you for far more than that.”

My stomach flips. His words shouldn’t stir up such licentious feelings fluttering through me. I should find his manner of speech disgusting and reprehensible, and yet, my mind can’t help but wander to the gothic romances I’ve read. How many nights did I toss and turn, my dreams taking on feverish overtones where I cast Foxford in the light of the villain set to destroy me?

Though it isn’t that far from the truth, in my dreams, it felt different somehow. And each time, I’d awaken with an odd pulsing between my thighs and a dampness on the sheets. And now, just as when I’m alone and in my bedchambers, the same maddening ache threatens to overwhelm me at the sound of his odious voice.

If this continues, I may have to request a visit from the physician, since there’s no way this can be healthy. As it is, all thoughts of doctors and medicine flee the moment Foxford comes into my field of view, surrounding me with that hateful scent cloud of forest and vanilla. My knees tremble as he takes up a spot on the opposite side, until both he and my cousin flank me, rendering it impossible to leave.

They converse back and forth, speaking over me as if I’m not wedged between them. One by one, they pick the men apart, judging them on merits, character, and fortune. I try to follow, to place the men in my eyesight so as to know exactly who I’m dealing with, but the names just pass by in a blur, especially since no descriptors are added.

Foxford cuts off the conversation as the music dies and the band prepares to start another dance. “Well then, let us take this debutante out so that the men may look upon her and cast their bids to us?”

“You speak of me as if I’m some prized hog to be bartered and haggled over.”

His gaze dips down to my chest for a moment before he cranes his neck to stare at my back. “To be fair, the amount of ham that can come from you would no doubt be far more satisfying than any gristle that can be scraped off of the front.”