My rightful place. What place was that, Ana Maria wondered? For more than twenty years, she’d been the late duchess’s unpaid and unappreciated dogsbody, doing anything that required doing, if the duchess ordered her to.
And now? Now she was supposed to become a lady overnight, a person who didn’t know how to polish silver, who would order a bath without considering just how long it would take to boil water, and who treated the help as though they were just that—help, not people or even friends. Who did not have an opinion about dust, because she wasn’t aware it existed.
But even if her status was suddenly elevated, she was not.
If only her half-brother, Sebastian, had remained as the duke she would have been far more comfortable. But Sebastian was not the rightful duke, not since it was discovered that the late duchess—in this particular case, the dastardly duchess—had lied about her relationship to Ana Maria’s mother. When it was revealed that the two duchesses were sisters, not cousins, it had invalidated the second marriage, making Sebastian a bastard so the title went instead to their cousin Thaddeus.
Thaddeus was kind, in his way, but he wasn’t Sebastian. Ana Maria had only wanted to become a lady because Sebastian had seemed to want it for her so desperately. And now that he was established in his new life with his new lovely wife, it all seemed so pointless.
But it wasn’t as though she could toss off her elegant clothing and grab an apron and pretend things hadn’t changed.
They had. This room, redecorated to her taste and overflowing in flowers from potential suitors, proved it.
She liked the flowers—even if some of them made her sneeze—but she did not appreciate the attention. The gentlemen who sent them would never have noticed her when she’d been wearing her apron, and she knew full well why they were noticing her now. Thaddeus, continuing what Sebastian had promised, had bestowed a generous dowry on her, one that was drawing all of Society’s eligible bachelors like—like ants to sugar.
“What are you thinking about then, my lady?” Jane’s voice said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Flowers, ants, and sugar,” Ana Maria replied, snorting at her own words.
“It’d be better if you were thinking about your suitors and which one of them you’ll decide on. I like the looks of that earl’s son, Lord Brunley. He’s quite handsome, and has nearly all of his teeth.”
“High recommendation,” Ana Maria replied dryly. “So I can look at him while he chews.” Is that what marriage was? ‘Dearest, let me pop that toast in your mouth as I gaze upon you.’
“What else is there to require in a husband?”
It was unfortunate Jane asked so many questions. So many questions Ana Maria could answer, but not to anyone’s satisfaction but her own.
What else is there to require? A kind soul, someone who would listen and care for her? Someone who would want her, not the daughter and cousin to a duke with a fortune?
How would she be able to tell if a suitor truly cared for her? Someone who would ask her why she was thinking about flowers, ants, and sugar instead of regarding her with a horrified look because she wasn’t thinking about proper ladylike things?
Someone tall, and protective, and solid.
Someone very like—no. She could not finish that sentence, not even in her own mind.
She’d rather die by sneezing than admit to her own interest. If Sebastian, or Thaddeus, or worst of all him at all suspected she harbored a secret fascination for a certain tall, grunting gentleman with a penchant for frequent pacing she would be completely mortified, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway.
He treated her as a sister, and not even as a much beloved sister. More like a forgotten sister who was only noticed when she was a nuisance. And since Ana Maria was so well-behaved, she was never noticed. Not by him, anyway.
No. Better to consider the gentlemen who were now noticing her. Or even better, figure out something that didn’t involve gentlemen or marriage so she could at least be satisfied in her own life, even if she ended up alone.
“My lady?”
“What is it, Fletchfield?” Jane answered.
The butler gave a slight frown, indicating what he thought of Jane’s presumption.
“Miss Octavia Holton is here to see Lady Ana Maria.”
Ana Maria smiled. “Please see her in, Fletchfield. We will take tea as well.” Miss Octavia was Sebastian’s young sister-in-law, and a welcome addition to Ana Maria’s acquaintance, though their ten-year age difference made it seem as though Ana Maria was Octavia’s older sister. Until Octavia, Ana Maria hadn’t had any friends in her new world, and the friends from when she was a drudge all treated her differently now.
Even Jane.
Fletchfield bowed, and Ana Maria turned to Jane. “I’ll be up later this afternoon to discuss what gown to wear this evening.”
“I thought the blue—” Jane began.
“Later this afternoon,” Ana Maria interrupted. One of the few good things about being a lady—besides not having to scour kitchen grates and sweep dirt—was getting to choose which of her new gorgeous gowns she’d wear. And Jane had an opinion, as she always did, but Ana Maria was beginning to trust her own taste better than her lady’s maid’s.
That felt wonderful, at least. To know she was looking her absolute best thanks to her own decision.
She’d never had that kind of confidence. Not least because she always wore whatever castoff her stepmother allowed her to. But also because nobody had entrusted her with making any kind of decision her entire life—and even now that she was supposedly a lady in the highest echelon of society she was denied the same choice.
Well, she’d have to say no, thank you, to that. She was going to make her own choices and live her own life, which meant not marrying someone merely because he sent her some posies and could chew on his own.
It wasn’t much as standards went, but it would do for now.
Fletchfield held the door open for Miss Octavia, who stepped inside, her customary lively expression on her face. “Good afternoon, my lady.” Her eyes widened as she scanned the room. “Look at all those glorious colors!”
Ana Maria felt the unfamiliar warmth of a welcome compliment. “Thank you.” She patted the cushion of the seat next to her. “Do sit down. Tea is on its way.”
“Please tell me you decided on everything entirely on your own.”
That warmth furled throughout Ana Maria’s whole body. “I did.” She tilted her head to regard the bright silk of the curtains. “I’ve never done anything like this, I wasn’t certain I’d like it.”
“You have to tell me where you got all this. Or better yet, take me yourself.” Miss Octavia squinted in concentration. “You have a real talent.”
“Thank y—achoo!”
“You’re achoo-welcome,” Miss Octavia replied with a cheeky grin.
Her friend’s exuberant delight infected Ana Maria, making her want to cast off all the doubts and hesitations that had claimed her imagination since she’d first been elevated to her current social status.
And why shouldn’t she cast them off? Wasn’t the whole point of being independent to be . . . independent? To stride forward in life without worry?
“What in heaven’s name are you thinking about? You have the most intense expression on your face.” Miss Octavia wrinkled her nose. “You look like my sister, Ivy, when she’s puzzling out a particularly difficult bookkeeping problem.”
Ana Maria shook her head. “Nothing nearly that complicated.” Only the rest of my life. She smothered a secret smile as Fletchfield arrived bearing the tea things, including some of Cook’s most excellent lemon scones.
She would decide on her future after she had some tea and possibly a few scones. A person had to have their priorities straight, after all.
About the Author
MEGAN FRAMPTON writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction under the name Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired Briti
sh men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and kid.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
By Megan Frampton
The Hazards of Dukes
Never Kiss a Duke
The Duke’s Daughters
Never a Bride
The Lady Is Daring
Lady Be Reckless
Lady Be Bad
The Earl’s Christmas Pearl (novella)
Dukes Behaving Badly
My Fair Duchess
Why Do Dukes Fall in Love?
One-Eyed Dukes Are Wild
No Groom at the Inn (novella)
Put Up Your Duke
When Good Earls Go Bad (novella)
The Duke’s Guide to Correct Behavior
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Tall, Duke, and Dangerous copyright © 2020 by Megan Frampton.
never kiss a duke. Copyright © 2020 by Megan Frampton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition FEBRUARY 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-286743-8
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-286742-1
first edition
Cover design by Amy Halperin
Cover illustration by Gregg Gulbronson
Author photograph by Ben Zhuk
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HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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