Page 10 of To Dare a Duke

All three girls turned to look at the lady who’d spoken.

At first glance, Matilda Hunt did not appear to fit among the wallflowers. Indeed, the description could not have been less appropriate. Matilda was a white-blonde beauty, likely the most perfectly lovely woman in the room, but she was tainted by scandal, dubbed The Huntress, and had therefore found her place among the unwanted and unmarriageable. She had adapted to the role with surprisingly good grace.

At first, the rest of their little coterie had looked upon her with awe and no little suspicion, but they had soon discovered that, beauty or no, she was a sweet-natured girl and a good friend.

“Never mind that.” Bonnie waved away the conversation, a conspiratorial light gleaming in her eyes. “Who has been reading The Dark History of a Damned Duke?”

Squeals of delight accompanied this question, and suddenly chairs were being pulled closer as many more of the wallflowers crowded together, all of them eager to share in the conversation.

“Did you read last week’s?” Alice asked, reaching across Prue to clutch at Bonnie’s arm.

Bonnie nodded and closed her eyes. “He was there, before her, full of wickedness and dark pleasure.” She breathed rather than spoke the words, the Scottish accent she suppressed ruthlessly creeping into her voice and softening the line, making it somehow more seductive.

A collective sigh murmured through the air and Prue bit her lip against the desire to crow with delight. No one knew she was the author of the scandalous piece. She’d never dared share her secret, but not because she didn’t trust these girls. She did. They were her closest friends, her allies, but the knowledge would be a burden to them. What she did was dangerous. The Duke of Bedwin was a powerful man, and every bit as dark as her thinly disguised character. If he knew who was responsible for the salacious tale, he’d punish them.

It was a risk Prue would take on her own behalf, but she would involve no one else in her mad schemes.

The next instalment came out in three days.

Prue had gotten her break by sending a short story to The Lady’s Weekly Review. It had been a risk, as the magazine was often publicly scathing of the submissions it rejected. Prue had at least had the presence of mind to publish under a pseudonym, but the rejection would still have been crushing. Yet, publish they had.

Emboldened, she’d sent another, and another, each greeted with more enthusiasm than the last until the proprietor of the magazine had written to her personally, commissioning a full story to be published weekly over eight weeks. It had been a tremendous success, with readers clamouring for more, and had led to The Dark History of a Damned Duke, her longest and most ambitious piece to date.

Prue had sent a synopsis and the first three chapters. They had published the first chapter before they’d even replied to her letter, agreeing to all her terms in full. The public loved her, or at least they loved Miss Terry: the rather foolish, mock mysterious name she had created for herself.

Miss Terry was the talk of the ton.

The only problem with this one was that she had not completed the story before publication, due to the magazine’s eagerness to please its public. So, she was only two weeks ahead of the publication date. It had given her some sleepless nights already and would only get worse now that the season was upon them. Her writing time would be seriously curtailed. Still, she would manage.

Smiling to herself, Prue returned her attention to the conversation, which was growing animated. She loved this, she realised, and not only the fact that they were discussing her own work with such enthusiasm. This gathering of her friends was the only good part about the season. If only they could do it without sitting on the edges of every lavish event, feeling foolish. If only they could do it just for the fun of it, for the conversation, the camaraderie, the friendship.

“We should begin a book club,” she said impulsively. “Then we could discuss such things without….” Prue waved a hand at their grand surroundings and wrinkled her nose.

“A book club is a terrific idea,” Miss Jemima Fernside said, bouncing in her chair with delight.

“I agree,” said Matilda, her lovely blue eyes wide with enthusiasm. “But only if we discuss The Damned Duke first.”

This proviso was met with a chorus of approval until a hesitant and rather grave voice added:

“Should we be concentrating on such a frivolous title? I mean, perhaps something more improving? Shakespeare, maybe? I always thought The Taming of—”

Everyone turned to glare at Harriet Stanhope, who shrank back into her chair with a crimson blush at her cheeks.

“You can come to my house if you’d like to. Papa won’t mind,” piped up another excited voice

Now, everyone looked towards Miss Stone.

Among the ton, her father was that most reprehensible creature: a Cit. A man of the merchant class who had gained vast wealth from his work, propelling him and his family into society via the backdoor. Too wealthy to ignore, too low born to belong. Gentlemen did not work, and Miss Stone’s family had none of the breeding to match their wealth. They were neither fish nor fowl. Ruth Stone was a wealthy heiress and, whilst not a beauty, pleasant enough in appearance and manner. Yet, only the desperately poor of the ton would touch her, and only if no other option presented itself. She was new to their ranks this year and Prue had only spoken to her briefly, but she seemed a cheerful sort of girl.

“That would be wonderful, Miss Stone, thank you,” Prue said, rushing to fill the silence whilst everyone else wondered what to say. She didn’t doubt some among their number would have difficulty getting permission to visit the family, but those who wanted to badly enough would find a way.

The young woman smiled, looking thrilled to have her invitation accepted. “Oh! Lovely. Shall we say the day after tomorrow?”

This date was deemed acceptable, and the rendezvous was made.

Chapter 4

I know he’s supposed to be the wicked villain, but there’s something about Bedsin that makes my heart flutter. If only he could be redeemed.