Page 9 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter One

London

February 1818

Sophie Winter breatheda sigh of relief as she slipped through the French doors and out into the rear garden of Granville House. The garden was dark, silent, and deserted.Thank goodness. If she had to endure one more set of well wishes, she would have screamed.

Yet remorse panged inside her chest that she’d fled her own party when tonight should have been the happiest in her life. After all, she was announcing her engagement to a fine man. One she’d picked herself for love.

She bit her bottom lip.Sort of.

James Norton had fallen for her when they’d met just after Christmas, officially courted her by the start of the new year, and asked Papa for permission to marry her by the end of January. She nearly laughed at the rapidity of it. Why, the blanket of snow covering the garden was probably older than their courtship. But Papa liked him and was relieved to know that Sophie would have a good husband to care for her if he passed away, and Sophie was relieved when James insisted they wait until after tonight’s engagement announcement to work through the marriage settlement. Her father’s weakened condition in theaftermath of a bout of fever and nerves that had sent him to bed for weeks had been worsened by the overwhelming weight of running an earldom on the brink of bankruptcy and the stress of his mounting debts. He had never recovered and continued to decline. The last thing he needed was the increased pressure of having her engagement be contingent upon the negotiations. This way, Papa had time to ease his way through the contract.

Oh, there was no passion between them, but that would come in time. He was kind to her, affectionate, and concerned about her father. And while James’s family wasn’t titled the way hers was—he came from a family of middle-class bankers and accountants—she liked him even more for it. After all, she had never cared about titles. Her late grandmother had been obsessed with them, which caused Sophie to despise them even more.Especiallywhen she’d been forced into that contract to marry John Douglass, a contract that, thankfully, died with John.

She only wished they could have waited until later in the year instead of having a winter wedding, one they’d scheduled for just two weeks from now, under special license.

Which was why her engagement party was being held on one of the coldest nights in recent memory.

“Brr!” She pulled her fur wrap tighter around her shoulders, then risked wetting her blue satin slippers as she walked into the garden to take a few daring steps down the snow-covered path. Finally away from the crush and suffocating heat of the party, she could breathe much more easily and welcomed the cool air into her lungs and the tingle of it across her skin. A childish impulse made her stop, slip off her right shoe, and fluff the snow with her stockinged toes. She laughed at her own silliness, a liltingly soft sound on the hushed night.

Feeling happy for the first time all evening, she bent over to slip her shoe back on—

And froze. A shiver twined icily up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Someone was there.

She’d heard—no, she’dfelta presence, one which tickled the backs of her knees. A ghost? The silly fear leapt into her chest before she could remind herself that whoever was there was merely a party guest. Besides, she was too old to be afraid of ghosts.

“Who’s there?” she called into the shadows.

She held her breath and listened. The layer of snow covering the barren branches of the trees and bushes hushed the quiet midnight even more. From the townhouse, the distant noise of the party came muffled.

“I know someone’s there.” She prayed that her voice sounded much more forceful than it did to her own ears. “Show yourself.”

Her breath choked as the outline of a man emerged from the black darkness near the garden wall. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and made even more imposing by the great coat that layered over clothes as black as the night around them. Certainly he wasn’t a servant or one of the drivers who should have been waiting out front with the carriages. Yet his clothing wasn’t at all the kind of evening finery that guests wore to dance attendance on an earl’s daughter, even a dubious one. The shadows of the moonless night covered his face too darkly for her to identify him, but something deep inside her sparked a distant memory she couldn’t quite grasp that told her she knew him, the same way deserts recognized the rain.

“Who are you?” she demanded, fear increasing her anger.

No oneshould have been in the garden, not at this hour, not in this cold. She shouldn’t have been here herself, except that the engagement announcement would come soon and she needed a few minutes to collect herself before her life changed forever.

But she didn’t expect to be spied upon. Her fingers pulled tighter at her wrap. “Whoareyou?”

The specter took another step toward her. “Hello, Pixie.”

The deep voice twined around her like a velvet ribbon, winding her up in its masculine comfort, as the memory lingering at the edge of her mind rushed back with full force—

“Shay?” she rasped out, stunned.

But the man in the shadows couldn’t be him.Impossible.He’d ended all contact between them years ago after his brother’s death. He certainly wouldn’t show up again now at her engagement party, not given their families’ histories.

And yet…

She whispered uncertainly, holding her breath to bear the force of her heart slamming against her ribs, “Seamus Douglass, is that you?”

“And here I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” he confirmed as he continued slowly toward her.

Not for lack of trying. “I had.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the lie in her voice.