A Duke’s Accidental Debutante (Preview)

Chapter One

Start of the London Season, 1812

“Can you believe that she is once again surrounded by men?” a young debutante with bright blonde hair remarked to her friend in passing as they made their way to the other end of the bustling ballroom. 

“Typical Artemis, goddess of the hunt as it were,” the friend remarked before throwing a disapproving scowl over her shoulder. 

Lady Emmeline Dashwood rolled her eyes as a slight smirk touched her full lips. Good. Let them think that.

She hated that other young women regarded her as someone so guileful when it was the men who constantly threw themselves at her feet. 

Her aunt gently nudged her in the side. “Emmeline, dear, Lord Cavendish asked you a question.” Lady Prudence Dashwood forced a laugh that reminded Emmeline of chortling doves. 

Turning her head back to the conversation at hand, Emmeline flashed the earl a charming smile, lifting the corners of her mouth ever so slightly as she lowered her lashes. Her grayish-blue eyes fluttered slightly shut as she spoke in a soft voice. 

“Forgive me, my lord, I was distracted for a moment.” She reached up and twirled a black curl around her finger before letting it bounce free. 

The simple style of a half-up bun at the back and lush curls hanging over her shoulder accentuated the porcelain appearance of her flawless skin. 

The earl cleared his throat, swallowing hard as he tore his gaze away from her naturally tinted lips. “I was just remarking that it would be a great honor for you to join me on a hunt, Lady Emmeline. Of course, your aunt would be most welcome as a chaperone if your father can not make the occasion.” 

He pulled himself up to his full height and stood proud while bristling his mustache. 

Of course, it’s always a hunt. 

Emmeline barely hid her sigh as the earl began to prattle on about the various creatures on his estate that would be hunted down and inevitably slaughtered in a brutal fashion. It always struck her as odd that men found it an acceptable pastime to maim and kill innocent animals as a way of winning a lady’s affection. Of course, men did it with or without a lady’s presence, but it still struck her as odd. 

Her eyes wandered across the room in search of something more interesting. Then she stopped. Her heart skipped a beat, making her raise a hand to her chest where she lay it flat against her bodice. 

Who is he? 

Her breathing deepened ever so slightly as she locked eyes with a handsome man who looked to be in his thirties. She had never seen him before, but there was something so familiar in the depths of his warm brown eyes. Something almost mythical, as if he could see right through to her soul. 

His tousled brown hair moved slightly to the side when he turned his head, tearing his gaze from hers. It was unruly and untamed in a way that would make any woman want to run her fingers through the short strands. His thick sideburns matched the rich mop of hair.

She admired the strong jawline of his profile and his slightly tipped nose as he placed his hands behind his back and leaned against a pillar for support. He was far more handsome than any of the young men flocking around her and bidding for her attention. Yet he wasn’t among her throng of suitors. 

“Emmeline, are your thoughts wandering again?” Aunt Prudence chortled with nervous laughter as she looked around the circle of men who watched Emmeline with great fascination.  

Regaining her composure, Emmaline quickly smiled and laughed, soft and breathy. Elegant enough to cover up the fact that she hadn’t been paying attention, but alluring in a way that would make them forgive her in an instant. She glanced back in the direction of the stranger, yet he was no longer standing against the pillar. 

Was I imagining him? 

She shook off the thought and decided to excuse herself. “I am ever so sorry, my lord, I am quite parched from all the interesting conversations about hunting and the various kinds of guns that can be used. Who knew there were so many,” she whispered the last sentence under her breath before brightening her smile. “If you would all excuse me, I would like to powder my nose before the next dance.” 

She curtsied politely before gently extracting herself from the group. She made it only a few steps away when her aunt gripped her arm a little too tightly and tugged her to the side of the room. 

“Aunt Prudence, you are hurting me.” Emmeline winced slightly as she removed her arm from her aunt’s grip and rubbed at the section beneath her elbow-length glove. 

Ignoring her complaint, Aunt Prudence waited for a small group of ladies to pass before rounding on her with pursed lips. 

“Just what do you think you are doing this evening? The poor earl had to ask you several times about your Season, and even then you failed to respond to the man. Where is your head?” Her words were sharp as she barked them at Emmeline, her overly tinted lips pursing even further into a thin line. 

Emmeline rolled her eyes at the exasperation in her aunt’s voice. “Perhaps I would be able to pay better attention if the earl in question practiced less barbaric forms of amusement.” 

“Don’t you dare sass me, young lady. Your father and I have worked very hard to get you this far. You would have been married last Season already if it hadn’t been for your insistence upon driving all of the young men away.” Aunt Prudence lifted her sharp chin in the air and looked down her long nose at Emmeline. 

Her aunt’s words stung her heart, and Emmeline lifted her dainty chin in response as she narrowed her eyes. “Well, I don’t see my father here this evening, do you?” She raised a perfect eyebrow at her aunt and stood her ground. 

The remark flustered her aunt slightly as the excess of her rouge on her powdered skin brightened with a blush. 

“That’s what I thought.” Emmeline shook her head gently with a sigh. “Now, if you would excuse me, I would very much like to taste the punch before the next dance. Or am I to die from thirst in the name of finding me a suitable match?” 

She didn’t bother waiting for a response before heading in the direction of the refreshments. Why can’t they just let me be? 

Her heart ached at the thought of her father once again failing to appear. He was far too busy with his precious estate affairs to show any kind of concern for his only daughter. Emmeline’s jaw clenched slightly with anger and resentment. But there was no use in getting angry over things she could not change. 

She reached the table of refreshments and ladled punch into a fine crystal glass. The bright red liquid sloshed in the glass, bringing with it the heavy scent of fruit and cinnamon. She took a sip and licked a drop from her lips as the sweetness washed down her throat. 

“I heard she drove all the men away with her schemes last Season…” someone said in an icy, judgmental tone. 

Emmeline paused with the crystal glass halfway to her lips. A triumphant feeling warmed her chest as she realized once again that she was still the talk of the ton, despite not having married in her first Season. 

Turning her head, she discreetly glanced to the side where a small group of women had gathered in a cluster. The tall blonde from earlier allowed the corner of her mouth to tilt into a sardonic smile. 

“I’m not surprised that she drives all of the men away. She is intolerably spoiled. She teases men just to gain their attention, but they quickly give up on her when they get to know her.” Her words dripped with venom. 

The friend from earlier tossed her mahogany hair over her shoulder, scattering some of the forced curls. “It’s no wonder they give up on her; her father has. I heard he can barely stand to be in the same room with her for more than the duration of a meal.” 

A third young lady with red hair fanned her face a little faster as she hid behind her fan. “Can you blame the poor man? His wife died giving birth to her. Who could love a child who took the life of the only woman he ever loved?” 

The words hit Emmeline’s chest with unrelenting precision. 

She wanted to turn and scream at them. How was it her fault that her mother had died? She had been nothing more than a helpless infant. 

Emmeline shut her eyes against the pain and rage that swelled in her chest. It was one thing to liken her to the goddess of the hunt, but to blame her for her mother’s passing was just too much. 

“I saw her speaking to the Earl of Cavendish earlier this evening. I hope he knows what he’s getting himself into—Artemis does like to ensnare the unwitting young men. Someone needs to put her in her place, I hope he snubs her for the rest of the evening.” 

The blonde woman caught Emmeline’s gaze and sneered, letting her know that she was fully aware that Emmeline could hear them. 

White hot rage bubbled up in Emmeline’s chest as she placed the crystal glass back on the table and turned. She walked determinedly toward the small group, fully intending on giving them a piece of her mind. Her path, however, was blocked by the Earl of Cavendish as he stepped directly in front of her. 

“Forgive me if I startled you, Lady Emmeline, but I was hoping to have the next dance? You hurried away earlier before I could ask you.” He bowed gallantly, placing his arm over his waist. 

Emmeline glanced over his shoulder, noting the look of irritation on the blonde girl’s pinched face. “Yes, my lord, it will be an honor to give you the next dance.” She daintily placed her hand in his as he came up straight, shooting the girls a triumphant sneer. 

Aunt Prudence quickly caught her eye and pursed her lips in disapproval of her behavior as Lord Cavendish led her to the middle of the floor. 

The string quartet struck up a slow waltz just as the earl placed his hand on her back and took her left hand in his. Couples began to glide across the floor in a brilliant display of colors and fabrics, creating an elegant scene for those who stood on the sidelines and watched. 

Emmeline scanned the throng of guests in passing, wondering if she had indeed imagined the handsome young man who was nowhere to be seen. 

“You are a strong-willed young woman, Lady Emmeline.” 

The remark caught her off guard as Emmeline tore her gaze from the onlookers and looked into his eyes. “My lord?” she asked with a frown, tilting her head slightly to the side. 

The earl spun her under his arm, pulling her back in with grace as he lifted his nose in the air. “That is exactly what I am referring to, Lady Emmeline. You seem quite impetuous with your thoughts. You hardly pay attention to anything going on around you. We will have to get that behavior under control if you are to be my wife.” 

Emmeline could hardly believe her ears. Her mouth fell slightly open in shock. 

Seemingly unperturbed by her response, Lord Cavendish sniffed importantly and continued. “Your aunt says you need to marry before the end of the season.” 

“My aunt says a lot of things, my lord, but I can assure you that we are not of the same opinion on those matters,” Emmeline retorted with a sharpness in her tone. 

Just who does this man think he is? 

Lord Cavendish sneered a little in disapproval, causing his mustache to bristle again. “Surely you want a husband, Lady Emmeline? Or am I misunderstanding the situation?”

“I would very much like a husband, my lord. What I would not like is a tyrant who thinks he can control me in the name of matrimony,” she stated bluntly with a sweet smile. 

It was Lord Cavendish’s turn to be caught off guard as his eyebrows knit together in a frown. The utter look of shock brought Emmeline immense joy. 

“Did I say something to offend you, my lord?” She feigned innocence and batted her lashes.

Clearing his throat, Lord Cavendish clenched his jaw. “I can see that your aunt was right—you are in need of a husband who can be your master and guide you in the right direction,” he said with an air of finality. 

The dancing came to an end and the couples halted in their positions on the floor, letting go of one another as the room burst into applause. 

“I think you will find, my lord, that you are not in search of a wife. Not one that I would like to be in any case. May I suggest something along the lines of a pet that one could teach to obey? Perhaps a new hunting dog to add to what I can only assume is a vast array of already overworked canines.” 

She held his gaze with such ferocity that even she had to admit that she’d crossed a line. 

“Well, I never—” he began to splutter. 

Cutting him short, Emmeline quickly pasted a smile on her lips. “That is abundantly clear, my lord. May I suggest learning how to speak to a lady ‘properly’ before continuing your search? Good evening.” 

She forced a small curtsy before turning around and storming in the opposite direction. The nerve of some men to think that a woman needs a master. 

She had barely reached the other end of the crowd when her aunt’s vise-like grip reached out and dragged her into an alcove. 

“Just what do you think you are doing? Do you know how many people overheard your little conversation?” she hissed angrily, her eyes darting around to ensure nobody was listening. 

Pulling herself up straight, Emmeline lifted her chin defiantly and locked her gaze on her aunt. “I hope that people were listening. Perhaps the men of the ton will learn a thing or two on how to speak to a lady.” 

Aunt Prudence opened and closed her mouth a few times before pursing her lips in her signature gesture. “You are far too spoiled, Emmeline. Things cannot continue like this forever.” 

Emmeline turned her body to the side, signalling her intention to leave. “Was that a threat, Aunt Prudence?” She raised her eyebrows in a defiant question before lifting the hem of her dress and heading in the direction of the exit. 

The night had been long, and she didn’t intend on prolonging it any further. Opinions and gossip be damned. 

 

Chapter Two

Why did you have to leave me with this? 

Theodore Wycliffe ran his fingers through his mop of unruly hair and slumped back into his father’s leather chair. 

My chair…

The thought struck him as odd as he raised his eyes to the portrait that occupied most of the space on the opposite wall. The former Duke of Silverwood stood tall, his hand proudly thrust into the space between the buttons of his dark coat. His strong jaw jutted out like a ship’s bow, sure and true. The deer beneath his polished boot reminded Theodore of the mess his father had left him after his passing. 

Bitterness coiled the pit of his stomach, and he glanced back down at the stack of debts his father had left. The late duke’s passing had been sudden, but his gambling addiction had not. Theodore had paid as much as he could with what little money was left to the estate, but none of it seemed to be enough to quench the mountain of unpaid debts. 

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I do not mean to disturb.” The butler cleared his throat, forcing Theodore to look up from the solid oak desk that was buried under papers. 

“What is it, Henderson?” Theodore asked tiredly, wishing against all hope that he would at least receive good news. 

The slender man with a thin layer of graying hair combed to the side, lowered his fist from his mouth, and placed his hands behind his back. He seemed a little uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot. 

“The dowager duchess has requested that I relay a message, Your Grace.” 

“So not good news, then,” Theodore said bluntly before he could contain himself. 

Shifting uncomfortably again, the butler cleared his throat as if he could clear the awkwardness in the air. 

“That was crass of me. Please forgive my lapse of propriety, Henderson. What is the message that the dowager duchess wishes to convey?” Theodore loosened his cravat ever so slightly, wishing he had been anywhere else before the butler had found him. 

Henderson relaxed his shoulders a little, but the note of urgency in his old voice remained the same. “The dowager duchess wishes to have her weekly stipend increased as the period of mourning has now come to an end.” 

He bowed his head solemnly before quickly glancing at the portrait of the late duke. 

“My word, has it been that long already?” A feeling of utter defeat came over Theodore as he looked at the never-ending stack of debts. He had been trying his best, yet nothing he did seemed to be efficient. 

“A year and a day, were the dowager duchess’ exact words, Your Grace,” Henderson added solemnly. 

She counted to the day. 

Theodore allowed a small sigh to escape his lungs. It was just like his mother to hurry things along, even if he wasn’t quite ready to move on with his life just yet. 

“Did the dowager duchess perhaps mention why she needs an increase in her weekly stipend?” he ventured curiously, dreading the answer. 

“Dresses, Your Grace,” Henderson answered as if the one word would suffice. 

“Dresses…” Theodore repeated the word slowly. 

“Yes, Your Grace, the dowager duchess requires an entirely new wardrobe after wearing nothing but black for a year and a day. Going back to colors is a significant step for a widow, Your Grace,” Henderson added respectfully. 

Theodore placed his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushed himself up, answering irritably as he shuffled the stack of documents. “Yes, thank you, Henderson. I am fully aware of what going back to colors means.” 

Henderson’s cheeks filled with shame as he once again cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Was there a message that I needed to take back to the dowager, Your Grace?” 

“No, thank you. I will see her this afternoon at tea and handle the matter myself. You may go now, Henderson.” He dismissed the butler with a nod. 

Waiting until he was entirely alone again, Theodore allowed his shoulders to fall as he looked up at the portrait of his late father. “I do not know how I am going to handle the mess you have left us in, but I know I must. No matter how difficult it is.” 

***

“You are late, Your Grace. The tea has all but gone cold.” 

The dowager duchess lifted her sharp nose in the air as she scolded her son, peering over her spectacles with her dark eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair was piled atop her head in a lavish style as always. Lady Cordelia Wycliffe had once been hailed as the beauty of the ton, but those days had long since passed. 

Running his fingers through his hair out of exasperation, Theodore came into the parlor and chose a seat on the settee opposite his mother. “The affairs of the estate cannot wait, Mama. You should know this better than anyone else.” 

Her face stiffened at his words as she adjusted the fabric of her stiff black dress. 

“And how would I know of such things? Your father was the one who always handled the affairs. My place in this home was to raise you, and that job is now done. It would not have been proper for a lady to involve herself in the running of the estate.” She sniffed with an air of hurt and accusation. 

“I did not mean to imply that any of this was your fault, Mama—” 

His mother snapped at him, cutting his words short. “Good, because it is not my fault. I warned your father for years that his gambling would lead us to ruin. Now look where we are. My poor nerves can’t handle this situation.” 

She lifted a clean handkerchief to her eyes and dabbed at the non-existent tears. 

“There is no need to cry, Mama.” Theodore gestured tiredly for the butler to come forward and pour the tea. 

Henderson came forward at once and began to pour the tea into fine floral cups that Theodore had never seen before. 

“Mama, is this china set new?” His brow wrinkled into a frown as he noticed the lack of blue daisies that had been on the old set during his father’s time. 

The dowager stopped sniffling at once as she lowered her dry handkerchief into her lap. “Do not question how I run this house, Your Grace. It is my right as the dowager duchess to ensure we have suitable china to receive guests.” 

“There was nothing wrong with the old set, Mama.” Theodore stiffened a little as he tightened his jaw, readying himself for the argument that lay ahead. 

The butler handed them each a cream cup and saucer adorned with red roses and fine gold leafing. Theodore accepted the cup and dismissed the butler with a nod of his head before addressing his mother. 

“You may have run the house for many years, Mama, but I am now in charge of the finances. It is up to me to ensure that we do not have to sell the estate in order to survive. We need to cut back on costs if we are to keep the dukedom in our name. With that being said, I am afraid that I cannot increase your stipend for dresses. You will have to make do with last year’s fashions.” 

His words came across reproachfully despite his attempts at remaining calm and respectful.

His mother’s eyes flashed angrily as she pursed her lips, accentuating the fine lines that had begun to form at the corners of her mouth in recent years. 

“How dare you imply that I must wear the same dresses that I wore while your father was alive. These things may not be important to you, but they are of utmost importance to someone of my standing in the ton!” Her pale cheeks flushed with color as she raised her voice. 

Setting his cup and saucer back on the tray in front of him, Theodore placed his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “Like it or not, Mama, if we do not cut back on frivolous costs, we shall have to sell the estate and move to more modest accommodations. What will the ton think of you then?” 

Her mouth fell slightly open as she flared her nostrils and glared at her son. “May I remind you that we would also not be in this position if you would just do your duty as duke and marry!” 

Losing his temper now, Theodore came to his feet and thrust his arm in the air, encompassing the entire room. “You would have me bring an unwitting young woman into this situation? All in the name of using her dowry to correct the mistakes of my father?” 

The dowager sat back and straightened her spine as a veil fell over her face. Her voice was calm and collected when she spoke again. 

“Your anger is misdirected, Your Grace. I think you will find that it is the way of the world that you find a suitable match. The world expects it of you, not just me. And if your father were still alive? Do you not think that he, too, would have wanted you to marry, and marry well?” 

Her words brought a pang of guilt to his chest as he lowered his arm and shut his mouth. I shouldn’t have done that.

Theodore watched carefully as his mother waited for him to take his seat. Her face was calm and collected, but the fire in her eyes displayed the passion she felt. 

Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself back onto his seat, rolling his lips together in an attempt to release some of the tension in his body. “I am sorry, Mama. I did not mean to raise my voice.” 

“Now that you have calmed yourself, I hope you can see just how unreasonable you are being. Your marriage will affect more than just yourself. You could save the estate as well as carry on our family name.” The dowager sipped her tea, paying close attention to his expression over the rim of her cup. 

It took Theodore a moment to come to terms with what she was saying, but he eventually saw her reasoning and sighed. “And just who would you have me marry, Mama? More than half the ton knows of Papa’s gambling debts. It’s quite difficult to hide the fact when most of the lords are the ones seeking compensation.” 

She learned forward and used a pair of silver tongs to place two blocks of sugar in her tea. “That is just gossip and hearsay. Your father had a problem, I concede that much, but most of these so-called lords are simply taking advantage of the fact that your father is no longer here. These rumors will pass in time.”  She waved the idea away as if it were nothing more than a bothersome fly. 

Theodore refrained from telling her just how “real” the accusations were. Men from all walks of life, the ton included, had signed documentation of his father’s knowledge of debt. The ones in the study were just the copies the debtors had made to remind them. 

“And where would you have me find a wife, Mama? It isn’t as if the season’s debutantes are throwing themselves at me.” He shook his head despairingly. 

There had been one young lady who had caught his eye at the ball, but she had been too preoccupied with her suitors to pay him much heed. And the suitors had been many. He could still recall how they had all flocked for attention, bidding for the next dance as if she alone carried their hopes and dreams. 

She was exceptionally beautiful…

Her pale skin and black curls drifted into his mind, bringing with them the piercing gaze that had drawn him in for that frozen moment in time. He’d held his breath when she’d looked at him, but he’d quickly looked away, knowing full well that a woman as beautiful as her would never accept a man in his position. She would no doubt have her pick of wealthy suitors. 

His mother’s words broke through his thoughts and he looked up to see her eyes beaming mischievously. 

“Just you leave that to me, I have the perfect plan.” She was almost giddy with delight when she leaned over and retrieved a sheet from beside her chair, handing it to him with a flourish. 

Theodore accepted the sheet of paper and instantly felt a wave of disgust when he realized what he was holding. 

“Mama, you know very well that I do not approve of such filth. Scandal sheets are nothing more than cruel gossip. It’s deplorable that anyone would use unfounded stories as fodder for their writing aspirations.” 

He thrust the offending piece of parchment on the table beside the tray, refusing to take part in the blasphemy that was a London gossip sheet. 

Rolling her eyes, his mother placed her cup back on the tray and leaned forward, swivelling the sheet beneath her fingers to face him. “It is not the gossip that I want you to read, Your Grace, but the name of the woman whom you are to marry.” 

She raised her eyebrows and gave the parchment a final thrust with her fingers in his direction. 

Theodore’s face dipped into a frown. He tilted his head slightly to the side and read the words splayed across the page in bold lettering. 

Will Lady Emmeline Dashwood find a husband before spinsterhood comes knocking at her door? 

“Lady Emmeline Dashwood,” Theodore whispered the words to himself as if he could conjure up a face that would match the name. 

“Precisely,” his mother said determinedly and nodded profusely when he looked up.  

“Just how am I to approach a lady whose name has been splayed across the gossip pages? She has more than likely developed an aversion to anyone of the ton. I know I would if I were in her shoes, poor soul.” 

He thought of all the horrors that the meek and mild lady Emmeline would likely have to face. The image of a mousy-looking young lady with fine hair and frail features flashed across his mind. 

His mother scoffed at his words, shaking her head as she laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call her a ‘poor’ soul. Lady Emmeline is richer than most of her peers and knows it. But you leave all of that to me. I know exactly how the two of you will meet. You needn’t worry about that.”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously again and the corners of her mouth lifted into a mysterious smile.