Page 1 of The Duke's Only Desire

Prologue

North Yorkshire

December 1807

“You must beon your best behavior tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, Grandmama.” But Sophie’s attention was outside the carriage, fascinated by what her twelve-year-old eyes could see of the Yorkshire countryside beneath the icy light of the full moon glistening on the snow. She had never traveled by carriage after dark before, and tonight, with the snow and the moon and the cold and the stillness—it was simply magical.

Or itwouldhave been, if Grandmama hadn’t been so quiet and grim. But now that they’d arrived in Yorkshire and settled into the inn, then set out after dressing Sophie in the blue velvet dress for which she’d endured dozens of pinpricks at the hands of dressmakers in London, Grandmama had grown nervous. No. Notnervousexactly. More…agitated. Intense. Not at all the kind of mood to appreciate how the slanting moonlight cast long shadows and made the countryside seem as if it were from a fairytale.

“You are the only niece of the Earl of Granville.” Grandmama reached to straighten Sophie’s skirt. “I will not allow your life to be ruined the way your mother ruined hers.”

Sophie’s throat tightened. She turned her face fully toward the window, although now the wintry world around them appeared far less magical. “Yes, Grandmama.”

“I have worked very hard to create this alliance between our family and the Duke of Malvern in order to ensure your future. Remember that.”

She nodded, only half-listening. After all, Grandmama so often talked about the legacy of the Winter family that Sophie knew the stories by rote. How they’d wrongly supported James II and had to change their last name from Stuart to Winter when the king fled. How the Winter men had fought fiercely against the Scottish, the French, the Americans, the French again—against everyone, it seemed—to prove their loyalty to crown and country and in the process earned themselves an earldom from King George II. How they’d finally risen to rank and power…only to be felled by a woman.

“It is your duty to your family to marry well, and there’s no better opportunity than with the Malvern title.”

Another nod. Sophie stroked the fur that edged her velvet cape, wishing she could flee the carriage and go running into the night, to exist forever as part of the moonlight and soft shadows. Surely, there were fairies out there right now dancing with freedom and joy, all sparkling and bright. Just like the moonlight shining across the snow. Surely, they would let her join them and take her away.

“But you mustnotmention the duchess, understand?”

The duchess who ran away. Exactly like Sophie’s mother, whom she knew not to mention anywhere to anyone.Ever.Certainly not to her father or grandmother. As far as her family was concerned, Caroline Winter had never existed. Apparently, the absent Duchess of Malvern was just as much of a ghost, except that where Sophie’s mother had failed in her shortmarriage to produce an heir, the duchess had abandoned two sons. The oldest of whom would become Sophie’s husband.

She sank further into her cape until the hood nearly covered her face, her fingers still stroking the soft fur. But she couldn’t keep herself from whispering, “Did the duchess leave for the same reason as Mama? Because she didn’t like her husband?”

“That wasn’t at all why your mother left.” Sophie couldn’t see her grandmother’s face inside the dark compartment, but the old woman’s voice turned gruff. “The exact opposite, in fact. She was expected to marry your uncle, the heir to the earldom, but she loved your father, a second son who had no money or living of any consequence. I tried to talk sense into her—my daughter could have been a countess. But she ruined it by eloping to Scotland with your father.” Grandmama turned to look out the window, but Sophie knew her grandmother wasn’t seeing the same beautiful winter’s night that she was. “Their marriage never recovered from the gossip and cuts. It was a disaster, through and through.”

Sophie’s eyes stung as she focused on her fingers, numbly brushing the fur.

“The only person who was surprised when she ran away was your father.”

Papa had never stopped loving her mother, Sophie knew. Not even when the scandal of her mother’s liaison with another man forced him to petition Parliament for a divorce, all of it made worse because she’d run off with an American. Sophie had never understood why that mattered, but occasionally, whenever she overheard her grandmother chastising her father about his life, Grandmama would fling out that bit of information, as if being an American were no better than being Lucifer himself.

“My daughter ruined her life, but I will not allow her to ruin my only grandchild’s, as well.” When Grandmama looked back at her, her eyes were eerily bright in the shadows. “Which iswhy we are calling on Malvern. My daughter was too willful and selfish to become a countess, but my granddaughter will be a duchess!”

The carriage creaked in the cold as it rolled through the stone gates and slowly snaked its way up the long, curving drive through a forest so dense not even the moonlight pierced its darkness.

“There.” Grandmama tapped her fingertip against the window to call Sophie’s attention to it. “Ravenscroft Manor.”

The house stretched out in splendor beneath the full moonlight, like one of those French chateaus in the paintings hanging in her uncle’s country estate. With turrets and towers, it reached several stories into the sky, its imposing cold stone façade showing gray-white in the moonlight.

This place would one day be her home. Sophie shivered.

“When the duke meets you, you must speak only when spoken to.” Her grandmother fussed with Sophie’s cape as the carriage drew up in front of the house. Sophie could see candlelight glowing faintly within the grand manor, the only sign of life in the icy night. “Donotbe impertinent.”

She nodded as the carriage stopped. One of the tigers jumped to the ground and hurried up to the house to pound the massive front door’s iron knocker.

“Malvern is desperate to marry his son into a good family, and your uncle’s marriage to the daughter of the Duke of Richmond redeemed our family’s reputation.” She grimaced. “Of course, my fortune as your dowry also helps a great deal.”

She quickly checked Sophie’s blond hair, which had been intricately braided and piled high on her head in a coiffure that had taken the maid an hour to do.

“Scandal breeds scandal.” Grandmama tugged on each of Sophie’s white kid gloves which had been elaborately embroidered in sapphire blue flowers to match the design on hersatin slippers and the color of her velvet dress. “But in this case, it marries it first.”

The front door opened, and lamplight spilled into the night. The tiger opened their carriage and reached inside to help them to the ground.