Page 21 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

Climbing to my knees, I look up at the ceiling, fingers clasped in front of me as if I am about to say a prayer. And in some ways, I am… just not to anyone that can help me. “Papa,” I sob out, reverting to the term of my childhood. “Please. Please help me.”

CHAPTER 10

Joseph

My gaze drifts over the men as they crowd about, their seeking glances catching my eyes every so often. It’s not difficult to surmise what the topic of conversation is about. Seems as if my little harridan has made quite the impression.

Though granted, I’m still surprised she managed to pull it off. Thankfully, I allowed her a respite in the library before anyone could inquire after her other dubious skills. Part of me still wonders if she played me for a fool these last few weeks, playing the part of an inept bumpkin.

But why, I couldn’t fathom. By all rights, she should want to marry well to not only erase her current debts, but to also fund any future ones. If only she could just catch the eye of another duke, or perhaps even a marquess. Just as long as she never sets her cap at a friend of mine.

Glancing about, my stomach twists for a moment. I can’t tell what it is, but something feels out of place. The ball is still in full swing, a grand affair to be sure, but something isn’t right. It shouldn’t be Lady Teresa seeing as she’s no doubt holed up in a tight corner, like a little mouse, as she reads one of my books.

Which ones would catch her fancy, I wonder? I shouldn’t wonder. I shouldn’t care a farthing about what she would be reading in my library right now. In fact, I should be milling around the room, opening myself up to matches that might fall into my lap. Turning, I head toward the group of men, only to be stopped by a servant with a small note.

I turn back and go into a nearby corner so I can read it in peace, but as my eyes skim the unfamiliar scroll, my heart plummets into my stomach.

I wish to see you in the library. It’s urgent.

Down underneath is an unreadable scribble, no doubt the signature of whoever sent this missive. All I can think about, however, is what on earth that chit could have done in such a brief span of time. Why else would I be called away to the library?

My heart thunders in my ears as that odd twinge of premonition stabs me in the gut. I’m not sure what’s happened, but the feeling of impending doom causes me to quicken my steps until I stride as fast as I can go while still maintaining the social bounds of propriety. Even so, men and women part as I walk, their eyes lighting in concern at the look on my face.

I can’t even imagine how it looks right now, seeing as inside, I’m a mass of both anxiety and irritation. Flinging the door open, I cast my glance around, seeking out any destruction or worse that might have befallen my precious library. But there is nothing to be seen.

In fact, I don’t even see the omega in question at first. It’s not until I do another sweep I see her near the fireplace, her back turned to me. Through her silhouette, however, I can tell she’s on her knees, and my balls clench at the sight. My breath comes in pants as I draw a breath into me, and that’s when I smell it—the acrid stench of terror.

Closing the door behind me, I call out to her, not wanting to scare her even more. What could have happened in the short time she was in here? When she turns to me, my blood runs ice cold.

She hugs her arms around her waist, attempting to hide her shame, but she can’t conceal the rips and tears as her dress hangs around her body. “What happened?” I bark out, wincing at her flinch of fear from my tone.

I cross the distance between us in large strides, capturing her chin in my grasp. Studying her face, I look for anything amiss. A bruise, a scrape, but there’s nothing. Just her dress. “Did someone take advantage of you?”

“Why do you ask?” she bites out, jerking her face out of my hand. “Worried someone damaged your prized possession you were looking to sell? You’re worried your doll has been fractured so that none will now want it?”

“No, you silly girl,” I bark out, stilling her body as I wrap my hands around her arms. “I am trying to ascertain what happened to you in my home. Is this an act of violence or did you get caught up in some love affair and tore your clothes to play the victim?”

Her eyes widen, shimmering with unshed tears. Was I too harsh in my questioning? Is she perhaps really the victim? She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she looks down at the tatters with a helplessness I never thought I’d see from her.

It pulls at me, demanding I scoop her up into my arms and comfort her. But I can’t. Not when she’s in such a compromising position. Instead, I gather the scraps with her, seeing if there’s a way to piece the dress together enough to get her out of this room unscathed. This time, it’s not just about the ability to marry her off, but more about seeing to her as a person.

I need to quell her fears and find out what happened so I may bring the loathsome toad to justice. “Tell me what happened.”

She opens her mouth, poised to speak, when the library door slams open, admitting a raucous group of men, all of whom are led by none other than Middlehey. Their laughter cuts short the moment they see Lady Teresa and me, intertwined in what could look like a lover’s embrace.

“Foxford,” he cries out, glancing about at the other men as if looking for an audience. “How dare you place your hands on my cousin, and at her coming-out ball? If you wanted her, couldn’t you have just asked me? I would have gladly allowed you to marry her. But to sully her in your library?”

I tuck the omega in question behind me, understanding starting to creep into my brain. “How is it you happen to be here with all these witnesses, Middlehey?” My stomach clenches as the odious thought of having been betrayed by one of my friends lances through my skull.

However, the look of utter shock that crosses his face gives me pause. “Do not dare put this on me,” he cries out, every inch of him trembling as if I’ve caused him a most vicious wound. “Do not act as if I have contrived your tearing into my virginal cousin. Here.” He pulls out a note and hands it to me.

Make haste, for I have much to speak with you about. I will await you in my library. Be sure to bring the men you think are most eligible for your cousin. I wish to marry her off tonight if possible. Then, you shall be free.

There is no signature under the scroll, but there needn’t be one for anyone to surmise who it’s purportedly from. Drawing out the note I received earlier, they appear to be one and the same—a unique writing that neither belongs to Middlehey nor myself. I turn to pierce Lady Teresa with a glare.

“You wouldn’t happen to have taken your quill up tonight, have you?” She clutches the fabric about her chest, the vision of indignation.

“And pray, good duke, when would I have had the time? While you were parading me about? Or when I was attacked?”