of Hera, Alexander moved with his jerky gait over to
the wall of windows overlooking the palatial lawns
and gardens of his estate. “I’m…surprisingly not
angry,” he murmured, testing the emotions behind
the words.
What he was was curious.
The moon struggled to appear, the clouds covering
it like a thin veil. It was then he felt the press of
silence. It swarmed through him and burrowed beneath
his skin. An almost overpowering restlessness
came over Alexander.
Who are you, Miss Kitty Danvers?
Intemperate and reckless, that much he knew.
There would be no other reason to summon a beast
into her life. Why would anyone say they were
engaged to him? What charade was she playing—
and why?
He was no longer society’s brightest diamond, the
mad, bad, and most elusive catch all the beauties had
yearned for. He’d become their scarred, reclusive
monster. He remained an influential voice in British
politics through his pen. No woman wanted him, and
he desired none, for his cock was an empty husk that
would never rise again. Yet somehow, he had himself
a fiancée…one who was taking the ton by storm.
A rustle behind him indicated his sister had returned
to the mound of scrolls on the floor. She was
quite used to his lengthy introspections and always
knew when to leave him be with his ruminations.
He was intrigued. The hovering loneliness with its
jagged and sharp edges, which pierced him when he
least expected it, flickered as if it sensed something
different on the periphery of his soul and thoughts.
Instead of icy darkness settling over his emotions,
instead of a muted fury of loss, instead of a sense of
nothingness, a curious sort of anticipation blanketed
his mind.
…
A couple of weeks later, another set of newspaper
articles had been delivered to Alexander. Mr. Pryce
had executed his commission exceptionally well.
Before Alexander, laid out in an organized sprawl
on his oak desk, were five stacks of articles, all
from various newspapers. The Morning Chronicle,
Times, the Gazette, The Morning Herald, and a
Lady Goodie’s Scandals and Secrets, a paper he was
unfamiliar with but one that promised all the juicy
gossip for those avid devourers of scandals.
They were just as silly as himself, it seemed, for
they followed Miss Danvers’s outings relentlessly.
Alexander plucked up the sheet taken from The
Morning Chronicle. It was an interview. Incredulous
amusement filled him as his gaze devoured her
brazen words.
The reporter: “Society has not seen the duke for a
number of years. What can you tell us about that?”
Miss Danvers: “That the duke likes and values his
privacy.”
Alexander tried to envisage the expression that
could have possibly accompanied that sassy remark.
An arched eyebrow, a sweetly deceptive curl of her
lips?
The reporter: “Will the duke travel to town for this
season?”
Miss Danvers: “Dear me, no. The duke much
prefers the quiet comfort and fresh air of the
countryside. But he does write me quite often. Such
delightful letters.”
The reporter: “And where in the country does the
duke reside?”
Alexander imagined that she had laughed before
responding. Was it low and husky or bright and
thrilling?
Miss Danvers: “Come now, Mr. Dawson, surely
Alexander surely would not forgive me. I must keep his
confidence.”
Now Alexander imagined the reporter shifting
closer, entirely charmed by the deceptive vixen.
The reporter: “And what does he write you?”
Miss Danvers: “Oh, the most charming letters and
poems.”
Such breathtaking insolence. Had she blushed
prettily when she told that lie? Or fluttered her
lashes?
The reporter: “Does the duke send you more gifts?”
Miss Danvers: “Very charming and acceptable
gifts between an engaged pair. Alexander spoils
me endlessly with books of poetries and the most
eloquent verses of his creation. He dotes on me and I,
too, dote on him.”
The reporter: “Is your attachment a love match,
then?”
Miss Danvers: “I do declare it to be so! He indulges
me shamelessly.”
Impudent wench! He indulged her, did he? And
not just the regular kind…but shamelessly.
The reporter: “Will the duke return to the House
of Lords anytime soon? He’s a powerful voice of
reason, his pen an instrument for change.”
Miss Danvers: “We do not discuss anything as
droll as politics, Mr. Dawson. We speak on matters of
the heart.”
Somehow, Alexander did not think her as vague
as she implied. No, this woman was as cunning as
they came.
With an impatient sigh, he moved on to the mention
in the scandal sheets.
Lady Goodie has spied the most daring lady of the
season walking to Hyde Park several times, her lady’s
maid a few paces behind. Discreet inquiries indicate
Miss Kitty Danvers is without a phaeton or a carriage
of her own.
Whoever this Lady Goodie character was, she
made it her duty to inform society in each of her
weekly columns how lacking Miss Danvers was in
appearance and gentility to become a duchess. Last
week’s scandal sheet had mentioned how vibrantly
Miss Danvers laughed, and that her riding boots had
seen better days.
Why the charade, Miss Danvers? And how exactly
does it benefit you? he silently mused. She hadn’t
used her deception to gain anything for herself,
beyond the town house his lawyer had insisted on
securing for the lady. He felt an odd compulsion
stirring inside him to understand this stranger’s drive
and complexities.
Flipping the newssheet, he carefully read several
mentions of her. While the other papers’ articles
were done in admiring tones, Lady Goodie seemed
of a mind to vilify Miss Danvers with biting, sarcastic
remarks that poked at Miss Danvers truly being the
fiancée of the Duke of Thornton.
Lady Goodie has it on the highest authority that
the captivating and almost scandalous Miss Danvers
was once again seen riding a horse astride in Hyde
Park! Shocking, of course, and the last lady to
titillate society in such an audacious manner was our
darling Lady Caroline Lamb. This author wonders:
What does the duke have to say about his fiancée’s
outrageous and speculative manner?
Alexander picked up another paper, which referred
to the same incident but defended her action as
courageous and defying conve
ntions of the biddies of
the ton. In fact, this article thought the duke should be
proud to have such an intrepid duchess-to-be.
It seemed one set of society was liable to believe
the lying wretch, but the other half was wary and
cutting. How was she maneuvering the dark and
treacherous waters she’d willingly dived into?
With deft aplomb…or are you afraid, Miss Danvers?
His lips curled, and he reached for the inkwell
and feather. Pulling a sheaf of paper from his top
drawer, he started his composition. He was too
enthralled by the unconventionality of Miss Danvers
to ignore her any longer.
Dear Miss Danvers…
Alexander paused, assessing the impulse to
write to her. And say what? Demand an explanation?
Alert the bold vixen that he was aware of her
scheme?
Blast his heart for being so perplexed, so intrigued
by her subterfuge. She was a puzzle…and he liked
puzzles for how they occupied the mind and allowed
for the passage of time with some modicum of enjoyment.
Damnable nonsense to be so captivated by a female
he knew to be a lying wretch.
His heart jerked and he blew out a slow, audible
breath. Yet…he was enchanted. And she’d achieved
this without Alexander ever meeting her.
Instead of sending her a letter, he quickly scrawled:
Mr. Pryce,
You will see that Miss Danvers is fitted with a
phaeton and a matching pair. You’ll arrange for the
horses to be stabled and cared for. At no time must
you make Miss Danvers aware that you and I have
discussed her. You must convince her to take these
items as befitting the fiancée of a duke. She must not
be told that I had anything to do with the command.
The Duke of Thornton.
His letter would perplex the young lawyer, but
Alexander knew he would obey him without questions.
A quick knock on his study had him lowering the
quill. The door was flung open with exuberance, and
his sister fairly skipped into his sanctuary, a small
pink bundle squished lovingly between her arms.
She’d found the pig.
Even more surprising, the cook had left the animal
for her. Clutched in her other arm was a newspaper.
“Dear brother, have you seen this one?” his sister
cried out with a choked laugh. “I daresay I’ve won
our wager. Our Miss Danvers is beautiful.”
A quick jerk of his heart, a primal slither of
interest. In one of his earlier ruminations, he’d
imagined Miss Danvers was unattractive and
unmarriageable, and this ruse was a desperate bid
to make herself more appealing to suitors. He’d
dismissed that assumption almost immediately, but
he’d still wagered with his sister that Miss Danvers
was unattractive.
“Is she?” he murmured.
“Oh yes,” Penny gushed, her eyes dancing with
merriment and admiration.
With a grunt, Alexander took the paper, which
showed a cartoon drawing of a small-boned lady,
a hat with several plumes of decorative feathers
perched rakishly atop her head, a gloved hand pressing
to her lips in apparent delight. And a man who
was supposedly him, lowered to one knee, holding
up a bouquet of flowers and what appeared to be letters
spilling from every conceivable pocket, looking
every inch a besotted fool.
Alexander blinked; then he chuckled.
His sister sucked in a harsh breath and he glanced
up.
“You laugh,” she said with wonderment.
A peculiar jolt went through his heart. “Do not
act as if the action is strange for me.”
“I dare not wish such genuine amusement, or is
your fascination growing for this strange creature?”
“Perhaps I should not have shared the newspaper
mentions.”
His sister rolled her eyes. “You did not take me
into your confidence. I fettered the truth.”
He’d been so engrossed in reading about Miss
Danvers last week, he hadn’t heard Penny creep up
on him. A voice too close had simply drawled, “I
never knew you read the scandal sheets, Alexander.
And how curious you read only the sections that
mention Miss Danvers. How I wish to know her.”
He’d swiveled to meet Penny’s broad, heartwarming
grin. Then a wager of sorts had started between
them.
Was she comely with blond hair and a buxom
figure as he had preferred women in the past? Or
was she plain with hardly any rousing attributes?
Was Miss Danvers plump or petite? He’d said it was
neither here nor there in his estimation; Penny had
said a woman with such a large and bold personality
must have the body and attitude to match.
His gaze lowered again to the small-boned
woman in the garish cartoon.
Another wager had been: Was she blond or dark
haired?
He’d put up fair, Penny dark haired. The cartoon
shed no light there.
When would she outrageously set a wedding
date? Alexander had wagered never. Penny had said
a December wedding.
“I just finished reading about the first time you
met her,” Penny said, her eyes wide with amusement.
“How I wish I could meet Miss Danvers! She must
be so very brave and original. I wonder what outlandish
tale we will read of next?”
Alexander grunted, trying to bury that flare of
interest for a damnable stranger who was quite
shameless and unorthodox in her manners.
“I am persuaded that when you have made her
acquaintance, you shall love her!” Penny declared.
He smiled at his sister’s naïveté. Love? A notion
he hadn’t thought or dreamed of in years.
And for this unusual creature? Unlikely.
But why was he humoring her wild and improper
antics? He could hardly find the answer.
He had been reading all the mentions of her in
the newspapers, his curiosity growing in leaps at
her unchecked audacity. He could not help being
intrigued by her daring. His haven of treasure and
books that fed his intellect and entranced him so
much could not push away the stark, raw loneliness
of his existence. And this Miss Danvers served as a
distraction from that disquieting awareness.
A part of him that had been dead and buried
whispered through his soul. What would you do
should I come for you, Miss Danvers? Retreat and
hide? Or would you face me…challenge me…compel
me?
And inexplicably, Alexander knew that before
the season was over, he would find out.
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Acknowledgments
I thank G
od every day for my family, friends, and writing. A special thank you to my husband. I love you so hard! You encourage me to dream and are always steadfast in your incredible support. You read all my drafts, offer such fantastic insight and encouragement. Thank you for designing my fabulous cover! Thank you for reminding me I am a warrior when I wanted to give up on so many things.
Thank you, Giselle Marks for being so wonderful and supportive always. You are a great critique partner and friend.
Readers, thank you for giving me a chance and reading my book! I hope you enjoyed and would consider leaving a review. Thank you!
About Stacy
Stacy Reid writes sensual Historical and Paranormal Romances and is the published author of over sixteen books. Her debut novella The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding was a 2015 HOLT Award of Merit recipient in the Romance Novella category, and her bestselling Wedded by Scandal series is recommended as Top picks at Night Owl Reviews, Fresh Fiction Reviews, and The Romance Reviews.
Stacy lives a lot in the worlds she creates and actively speaks to her characters (aloud). She has a warrior way “Never give up on dreams!” When she’s not writing, Stacy spends a copious amount of time binge-watching series like The Walking Dead, Homeland, Altered Carbon, watching Japanese Anime and playing video games with her love. She also has a weakness for ice cream and will have it as her main course.
I am always happy to hear from readers and would love to connect with you via my Website, Facebook, and Twitter. To be the first to hear about my new releases, get cover reveals, and excerpts you won’t find anywhere else, sign up for my newsletter, or join me over at Historical Hellions, the fan group for my historical romance author friends, and me!