My Dangerous Duke

Chapter One

“Eleanor Langley, I told you not to wear that corset!” Laura hissed, her long, pointy fingers flying for the waist of her daughter’s green silk dress. “Why, you simply look like a cow! Suck your stomach this instant!” 

Her peach-complected cheeks suddenly turning red, Eleanor quickly countered her mother’s touch and swatted her claw-like hands away. There was nothing wrong with her stomach and she knew it well, it was just that her mother had unfortunately caught her slouching in the carriage seat. 

“There is nothing wrong with my corset, Mama,” Eleanor quipped back as she smoothed her hands down her ample bosom and small waist. The sunset hue made her honey eyes practically glow with warmth, and she felt radiant in her fashion choices. 

“You have gained weight,” her mother fretted, shaking her head hurriedly as she looked over Eleanor. “I told you to start the diet your sister followed! Do not you want to find a handsome husband as she did?”

“Edna and I are not the same people, Mama,” Eleanor replied, feeling her temper spike. Ever since her older sister had gotten married to a baron two years ago, her parents- a self-made successful businessman and a daughter of an Earl, had pressured their daughter to become more like their eldest. Eleanor had disliked being constantly compared to her older sister, and now, after two years of no success in the marriage market, she downright loathed it. Her ability to ignore her parents’ constant jabs was waning, and she felt a type of explosion slowly building inside of her. 

“Enough, you two,” Victor Langley commanded, glowering at both his wife and daughter with his beady brown eyes. “I do not need to remind you how important tonight is for all of us. It is the first ball of the Season, Eleanor, and you will impress the Ton this evening. Am I understood? Tonight is not just for socializing. There is important work to be done.” 

“Yes, Papa,” Eleanor replied, lowering her eyes away from his glare. She knew better than to argue with her father when it came to public expectations. 

“Your father is working hard to improve this family’s status, darling,” Laura sneered at Eleanor as she put a consoling hand on her husband’s large chest. “It would do you well to help him this evening by trying your best to impress our peers.”

Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead looked out the carriage window. She wanted no part in her father’s social climbing, and unlike him, did not care what a title or fortune would do for their status. She knew people were likely already laughing at them.

As a social climber, Victor Langley had built his business from the ground up and had been infuriated when his money could not buy him the respect of nobility. It was only by marrying her mother that he had somewhat been accepted into the fold of Ton, but even then, they had kept him at the fringes. As the years passed and his social standing remained stagnant, Eleanor watched as her already cold father only grew more calculating. 

“Here we are,” Victor announced, fretting with his cravat as the carriage pulled to a stop. Laura tried to help him as she showered him with compliments, but he only snapped at her to stop her chattering and pushed her hands away. 

“I mean it, you two,” he growled, taking one more look at his wife and daughter. “Tonight is important. Do not ruin it for me.” 

As Victor left the carriage, Laura turned to Eleanor with a glare and looked her up and down one more time. 

“I would not dare eat anything this evening if I were you,” her mother hissed, looking disgusted. “So, Lord help me if I catch you…” Laura did not finish her sentence, instead only shaking her head disapprovingly as she gave Eleanor a long stare. 

Eleanor let out an exhausted sigh as she was left for a moment in the carriage alone, but before she could muster her strength, she heard her father’s loud, angry voice bellowing from outside.

“What is the meaning of this, boy?”

 She instantly felt a clenching in her gut as she heard the footman insist that their family was not invited. It did not take her long to see that her father and mother were garnering quite the looks from the other guests as they argued over their right to attend. 

“Do you not know who I am?” Her father bellowed into the footman’s face. “I am the heir of an Earl! My daughter is the new Baroness of Wilten! How dare you refuse me entry!”

“If you could just procure your invitation, my lord…” the footman stammered as he took a step back from Victor’s rotund, encroaching figure, “We could clear this up quickly.” 

“Who are you to demand proof from us?” Laura hissed, coming to her husband’s defense. 

Oh, not the tale about him being an heir again!

“Mama, please,” Eleanor pled as she caught up to her parents. “Perhaps we should just go.”

“Nonsense, we have every right to be here,” Laura quipped, taking her elbow from her daughter. “The man is just being cocky for the sake of it. Never you worry, your father will take care of it.”

Eleanor groaned inwardly as she watched the embarrassing scene unfold, wondering how on earth her parents ever blamed her for their exile from society. Around them, the crowd of onlookers was continuing to grow, and to her right, Eleanor spotted her dear friend, Cordelia Farrington, and her mother, coming toward her. Relief flooded through her as she saw her friend’s approaching face, and she hurried toward her. 

“Eleanor, darling! What is the excitement?” Cordelia whispered through her smile as she took Eleanor’s hands. The two friends squeezed one another’s palms tightly and they leaned in to touch their cheeks to one another. As usual, Eleanor’s friend looked delicately beautiful in her array of pastel blues and purples. Why the lovely young woman preferred to stand against the wall with Eleanor at parties instead of among the fray of gentlemen was beyond her, but Eleanor appreciated her more for it.

“My parents are at it again,” Eleanor whispered back, flicking a worried look over to them. “I am afraid they have once more invited themselves to an event somehow expecting to just be let in. Oh, Cordelia! It is so terribly embarrassing!” 

“Oh, dear,” Cordelia whispered, casting a sympathetic look at her friend before both young women looked up to Cordelia’s mother, Lady Lavinia Farrington, Marchioness of Salisbury. As one of the most fashionable and respected ladies of the Ton, a single word from her lips could solve Eleanor’s problems. As usual, the marchioness looked down at her daughter’s friend with a compassionate, pitying look, and moved away from them to go speak with the footman. 

Eleanor knew that, like most members of the Ton, Cordelia’s mother did not approve of her parents. Luckily for her though, the lady did not allow Eleanor to suffer for her parents’ shortcomings. In a mere moment after the marchioness approached the angry Mr. Langley, the shouting had ceased, the crowd dispersed, and the five of them were all walking into the poshly decorated foyer of Newbury Hall. The moment they were inside, Eleanor’s parents all but ran toward the ballroom, leaving their daughter behind in order to make their next attempt at social acceptance.

“Thank you for your intervention, Lady Salsbury,” Eleanor whispered to Cordelia’s mother as they passed through the foyer and into the crowded ballroom. 

“Anytime, dear,” the beautiful noblewoman whispered back as she squeezed Eleanor’s arm. “Now go with my daughter and have a good time. Do not let your parents dampen your spirits.” 

“Come, Eleanor,” Cordelia said excitedly as her mother moved gracefully off toward her friends, “I see Marina by the refreshments table. Let us go meet her.”

Starting to feel the stress of the evening begin to melt away, Eleanor smiled as she and Cordelia made their way through the crowd of elegantly dressed socialites and toward their dear friend, Marina. As the three young women came together, they embraced and quickly fell to talking. 

“Have you heard the latest gossip?” Marina whispered, picking up a glass of champagne. 

“Heard?” Eleanor laughed dryly, picking up her glass. “We experienced it. Thank heavens for your mother, Cordelia, or I would still be outside with my face red as a beet.” 

Marina gave her a quick, sympathetic look before shaking her head. Eleanor was no fool and knew that word of what had just unfolded outside had already spread through the entire party. 

“Trust me, darling, no one will care about that tonight,” Marina replied quickly. “Not with a certain gentleman’s arrival.”

“Intrigue!” Cordelia hissed excitedly, stepping closer to her two friends. “Do not keep us waiting! What is the news, Marina?”

Though Eleanor was no fan of the Ton’s gossip, even she was curious. It had to be someone quite special for them to blot out the embarrassment that was her parents’ entitlement. She took another sip of her champagne and took a quick look around the room, wondering who Marina could be talking about. 

“Well,” Marina started, her voice dripping with giddiness, “It seems that the mysterious Duke of Larsen has finally decided to step out of his secluded little kingdom and summer here!” 

“The Duke of Larsen?” Cordelia gasped, immediately looking around. “Gosh, my father speaks of him. Says he is an absolute monster in the boardroom. Mama says it is a shame he is so ill-tempered. Supposedly he is quite handsome–”

“Oh, come now,” Marina laughed softly, her lips curling up into a smirk as she wagged her eyebrows, “He cannot be as cold as they say.”

“Cold?” Eleanor mused. “I heard that he is heartless, dangerous even.”

“What is the difference?” Cordelia asked.

According to my books, quite a lot, Eleanor mused silently. 

“It does not matter,” Marina interjected dismissively. “What matters is there is excitement. And you know how the Ton is when there is a new eligible bachelor around. I cannot wait to watch all these desperate ladies fall over themselves to get to him.”

“So wicked!” Eleanor laughed. 

“I do not care,” Marina retorted, throwing a look around the room. “It will be satisfying to be the ones laughing at them and not the other way around for once.”

Eleanor’s smile diminished a little as she looked away from her friends. It was true. The three of them were often the most teased by their peers for being wallflowers. And, while she did not mind the possibility of spinsterhood, she knew her two friends ached to be wooed by a handsome nobleman as soon as possible.

Cordelia and Eleanor shared a quick glance, then Cordelia nodded toward Marina and pulled her away from the refreshment table.

“Very well, then,” Cordelia encouraged gently, “Let us take a look around, shall we? See what effect this new mystery man has on our adversaries.” 

“Let’s hope that is all we spot,” Eleanor murmured under her breath as they walked into the fray. 

As she looked around, her eyes searched not for the duke, but for her parents. Neither of them was anywhere to be seen, which worried her greatly. She was not exactly sure what new plan they were up to, but by the way, they had been acting, it could not have been good. 

I know they are up to something.

***

“Jesus and God Almighty, would you look at that one! I think I am in love!” Richard groaned as he gawked at the latest group of ladies that had passed them. Xander rolled his steel grey eyes and then cast them over to his overly excited cousin.

“For heaven’s sake, Cousin,” Xander pleaded, his dark voice laced with an edge, “I am only here to get you out of trouble, not help you get into it. It is bad enough that I had to come all of the way up here to clean up this messy deal you have gotten into. And I have put up with you dragging me to this awful, stuffy thing of a party. But I will not duel for you for taking some young lady’s honor. Keep it in your pants while we are here or I swear I will cut it off the moment you pass out drunk again.” 

Some would say that Xander’s low, threatening words to his cousin were a bit too rough but after everything the twenty-five-year-old idiot had put him through, the man was lucky Xander had not done the deed already. Xander despised the hypocrisy and pettiness of the English Ton and wanted nothing to do with it. Now, for the good of the family, he had been forced out of his haven in order to clean up the mess his cousin had made. 

“Do not be so cross, Cousin,” Richard pouted, looking annoyingly more like a petulant teenager than a grown man. He raised his tumbler of whiskey- his fourth- to his lips, and added dryly, “You should be happy. You solved the issue, got everyone their money back, and the family’s reputation is once again stellar. As usual, you have saved the day, and tomorrow morning we will be on our way back home.” 

Xander bit back the bitter words gnawing at his throat, refusing to let his cousin goad him into a petty fight. Not after finally clearing up his latest near-scandal. He needed to walk away, just for a minute, and cool his temper. He had no doubt that left to his own devices, Richard would cause a new scandal but he could not take it anymore.

“Where are you going?” Richard called after him as he began to walk away. 

“I need a refill,” Xander called back, “Try not to get arrested while I am gone.” 

Xander did not hear the remark Richard shot back at him nor did he care. Instead, he focused on skirting around the room full of eligible ladies and toward the nearest balcony.

“Your Grace, how pleasant it is to meet you.” A blonde middle-aged woman draped in blue and silver stepped in front of Xander so quickly he nearly ran her over; his feet stopping at the very last second.

“Good evening, my lady,” he nodded curtly, already stepping around her. 

“Oh, you must not go yet, Your Grace!” Another woman in plum purple stopped him yet again. 

“We must introduce our daughters,” the woman in blue insisted. 

“Another time,” Xander quipped back, dodging their advances yet again. 

Ever since he and Richard had entered the city, mothers and daughters of the Ton had shown up at every possible decent place to introduce themselves to him. A phenomenon, no doubt, that his grandmother was responsible for. He was quite certain that the moment he had told his grandmother that he would be going to London to solve Richard’s issue, she had picked up her quill and wrote to all of her friends, daughters, and granddaughters, alerting them of their chance. 

After a few more close calls and one brief stop to pick up a fresh tumbler of whiskey, Xander finally made his way to the empty balcony, closed the windowed French doors, and took a deep breath of the warm, fresh air. The scent of lilies, lavender, and other blooming buds filled his lungs, reminding him of home, and he felt a little more like himself. 

After one more deep breath, Xander ran a hand through his unruly dark hair, straightened his black jacket over his wide, muscular chest, and turned around to lean his backside casually against the rail. As he took a sip of his whiskey, his stormy eyes looked through the plated glass windows of the balcony’s French doors and took in the view of the party. As his eyes traveled over the scene, they stopped when he saw a glint of brown curls through the sea of pastels. Her–

“Beautiful evening, Your Grace,” a deep voice said suddenly, alerting Xander that he was not alone. He quickly took his eyes off of the beautiful woman through the window and turned his head to see a rather short, rotund man with dark, receding hair staring at him smugly. 

“Do I know you?” Xander asked curtly, looking him up and down.

“Of course, I do not mean outside, do I?” The man asked with a smirk, ignoring his question and nodding toward the window panes.

Realizing how he must have looked while gawking at the brunette, Xander chuckled dryly and shook his head. 

“I suppose it is,” he agreed nonchalantly. “I was just out here to get some air; I am sure you need the same. I will leave you to it.”

Xander moved toward the one open door but the man moved in front of him, blocking his path. He raised a cool brow at him as they came eye level with one another. Something was not right about this man. 

“Actually, Your Grace, I have come to have a word with you,” the man stated, reaching behind himself to close the other French door, blocking them off from the party, “I have a business deal too good to refuse.” 

“I only do business with men I trust and seeing as I do not know you, I certainly do not trust you,” Xander replied, his voice growing cold. He knew when he was being threatened, and he did not handle such things lightly. “Therefore, you and I have nothing to discuss. Now move. Or I will move you.” 

“Come now, Your Grace!” The man boasted joyfully as he threw his arms up, “There is no need for such a quarrel! You and I are to be more than just friends, we are to be family!” 

“What?” Xander spat as the man began to laugh rather madly. Something was wrong here. This was no business deal, and he knew it.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Your Grace,” the man continued, reaching into his inner jacket pocket to produce a small, leather portfolio. “My name is Victor Langley, and I am about to be your father-in-law.”

Chapter Two

“Wake up, lazy bones!” Edna’s voice boomed through the silence of Eleanor’s slumber. 

Eleanor let out a groan as the vivid pictures of last night’s ball vanished from her mind’s eye, and became joltingly aware of her older sister’s movements. Curtains were being flung open as Edna continued to insist that she wake, and accepting that she would not be allowed back to sleep, Eleanor begrudgingly opened her eyes. As she did so, Edna crawled onto her bed and gave her rump a sharp slap, making Eleanor yelp and suddenly sit up on her knees. 

“Edna! What are you doing here?” Eleanor snapped, pushing her sister’s pestering hands away from her tangled strands of hair. “Aren’t you and your new husband supposed to be making the next line of Papa’s legacy?”

“You are so wicked when you are grumpy!” Edna exclaimed, teasing her as only a big sister could. Her hands flew out again quickly, laying pinches on Eleanor’s sides, and Eleanor hissed out a curse as she all but flung herself out of bed to get away from her sister’s antics. At this, Edna only laughed. 

“And you are such a child,” Eleanor shot back, rolling her eyes as she walked to the washstand. She was not sure why her older sister was there but she did not like it.

“Seriously, what are you doing here?” She insisted, washing her face.

“Mama and Papa begged me to come,” Edna replied, inspecting her nails casually as she dropped her act of affectionate big sister. “They wrote that they have arranged big plans for you today and that my attendance was absolutely crucial.” 

“What are you talking about?” Eleanor asked, taking a step back from Edna. “Mama and Papa have told me nothing.” 

Edna laughed as she lifted herself off of the bed and smoothed her expensive teal silk gown down her person.

“Why would they?” Edna asked, “You would only have messed it up if you had known. I will call for your lady’s maid so get down quickly.” 

Something was not right. Edna was too gleeful about what she knew. But where would she run to? Where could she hide? Knowing she had no choice but to deal with what was waiting for her downstairs, Eleanor flew into action. Frightened or not, she decided she was not going to let her parents see her as such.

“Ah, here is our little, sleeping pup!” Edna exclaimed in a mocking tone as Eleanor walked into the drawing room. She clapped her hands in excitement above her plate of breakfast, which made their parents laugh. 

“Good morning, little dove,” Victor added, looking up at Eleanor gleefully as his big fingers continued to pull the flesh of his morning kippers off of their bones. “We have wonderful news for you today.” 

“Sit, Eleanor, sit,” Laura insisted, fluttering her hand toward the seat between her and her husband. “Your father has done something positively amazing for you!” 

The sinking feeling Eleanor had felt in her stomach earlier only grew worse as she took her seat, but she kept her chin up high and smiled as prettily at her father as she could. 

“Do not keep me in suspense,” she pleaded, trying to cover her dread with an excited tone, “Please, Papa, I am aching to know!” 

“You are to be married!” Victor boomed, shooting to his feet in excitement as he triumphantly thumped his fist against the table. As he did so, Laura let out a sound of glee as she clapped her hands, and Edna started to hum as she danced two pieces of toast across her plate. 

Whatever warmth Eleanor had been able to retain drained out of her right then.

“What?” She managed to breathe. 

“Oh, I am so thrilled for you, darling,” her mother gushed, reaching over to grasp her hand. “Your father has caught you the best husband! You are set for life! Your troubles, our troubles, are officially over!” 

“No.” The word came out of Eleanor’s lips before she could stop it, ceasing the celebrations immediately. “I have not chosen anyone,” Eleanor continued, refusing to back down. “My husband will be my choice, just as Edna was allowed to choose hers. That is what you always–”

“You will not be ungrateful for this,” her father bellowed suddenly; his feigned kindness was now gone. “Edna was wise with her time and her choices. It has been two years now and you have failed to do the same.” 

“Do not dare be petulant, child,” Laura hissed suddenly, coming to her husband’s defense. “You have no idea the lengths your father has gone to accomplish this arrangement.” 

“I will not marry a man I do not know. I will marry for love!” Eleanor shouted suddenly, coming to her feet with a sudden gust of rage. “It is you that seek the social graces of the Ton, not me,” she continued, “I will not tie myself to a man simply for social or financial gain, I refuse!” 

“You have no choice!” Victor boomed, rising to his feet so fast that his rotund belly pushed over the nearby coffee pot. Eleanor’s eyes moved to the black stain spreading across the white lace tablecloth and felt as if it was her own soul being blotted out by darkness. 

The strength in her legs waned, her knees began to tremble, and as her father’s wrath filled the room, Eleanor felt her body lower back down into her chair. Tears pricked at her honey eyes as Eleanor looked down at her plate; her head hanging above it as if she were waiting for the guillotine. 

A few more tense, silent moments passed before Victor’s ruddy complexion paled and he slowly lowered himself back down into his cushioned chair. With two meaty fingers, he beckoned a servant forth, and the family sat in further silence as the dirty tablecloth was quickly but carefully removed and taken away. 

“This was an ugly morning,” Victor announced, his deep tone calmer, but still ringing with annoyance. “Let us not all it continue into the evening. Eleanor, look at me.” 

Eleanor fought the urge to spit in her papa’s direction and forced her head to turn toward him. What gross, awful creature had her father chained her to for his social gain?

“A recent turn of events has made it possible to accept an arrangement with the Duke of Larsen,” he stated, his tone pragmatic and unemotional.

This brought up Eleanor short, and she straightened her posture a bit. The Duke of Larsen? Rumors about the heartless man flashed in her mind. How could be possible that such a man would want to marry her?

 “I do understand that you had hoped to marry for something…” Her father continued, fluttering his fingers in the air- “That was more of a fairytale, but life is not such. Not for us. The man is extremely wealthy, well-respected, and powerful. He will make a formidable husband for you.”

“Not to mention devilishly handsome,” Edna jabbed in, resuming her earlier antics, “He has been the man to catch the last ten Seasons! And you have him, little sister.”

Eleanor caught her sister’s smug smile droop a little as she picked up her teacup and added, “Be grateful. Some of us were not that lucky.” 

“I suppose I am just confused,” Eleanor admitted, still trying to grasp the dizzying array of events. “I do not know the duke,” she continued gently, “the duke does not know me. Why would he want to marry me if he does not know me?” 

“You must not worry yourself about such things, dear,” Laura insisted, touching her fingertips to her perfectly styled hair. “Arranged marriages are a successful, longstanding tradition among our people, and you should simply thank your father for accomplishing such a match.”

“Indeed,” her father agreed, his voice finally settling down into its usual timber. He stood from the table again, this time more elegantly, and gave a single nod toward his family. 

“Now,” he continued, his gaze focusing in on Eleanor, “I have an appointment with your betrothed at White’s in an hour, then he shall be joining us for dinner. I expect that by his arrival, your temperament will be much improved.”

Eleanor felt herself nod numbly. 

“Good,” he stated, calmer now. “Now if you will excuse me. I must go change my coat.” 

Just as Eleanor’s father reached the doorway to the drawing room, Bernard, the house butler, appeared, almost running into his Master.

“A thousand apologies, Sir,” the balding servant stammered quickly, working as best as he could to get his wiry thin body to help stabilize Victor’s much larger one. 

“Blast, you fool!” Victor boomed, staggering back into the wall. “What in heaven’s name are you doing? You know I have an important meeting to get to and you are knocking me off my feet!” 

“Mr. Langley,” Xander greeted sharply, stepping out of the shadows of the hallway. The portly man responsible for his ruin stopped shouting at the butler immediately, and his big eyes grew bigger as he realized his plan had been pushed slightly awry. 

“I am so sorry, Sir,” Bernard apologized again, his voice pleading, “But that is why I have come. It appears that your appointment has come to you.” 

“Your Grace,” Victor stated with agitation, his hands quickly working to adjust his mussed clothes and hair. “What are you doing here? I said we were to meet at White’s to discuss your wedding details, and then you were to come here for dinner.”

After a little digging, Xander discovered that Victor Langley was nothing but an avid social climber whose life goal was to somehow be born again into nobility, and Xander was simply a pawn in making that happen. So, when Xander found out just how many times the man had been denied membership at White’s- their intended meeting place, he could not help but pull access away just a little bit longer. 

“I know,” Xander stated, smirking as he entered the room. As he did so, he heard the quiet gasps from the two ladies at the table, and he glanced toward them. His mind quickly scanned through the information he had been given, and identified them as Laura Langley and Lady Edna Wilten; the wife and eldest daughter of his newest nemesis. 

Unlike his future bride, whose entire person sparkled like amber among ash, they had no startling features. Their straw blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and small upturned noses were like the countless others of the Ton. Ordinary wrapped in tulle. Xander drew his eyes back to Victor and strolled further into the room; his gait casual and confident. 

“That was the original arrangement, yes,” Xander replied matter-of-factly, walking past Victor and toward the bar cart beyond him, “But my days, to both of our dismay- are busier than most would like. I am afraid I simply cannot afford to give our business an entire day.” 

A wicked glee filled Xander as Victor began to stammer and object, but instead of paying the bastard any mind, he went about deliberating on his drink of choice before pouring himself an ample glass full- not for his temperament, but for his pain. 

Though he was walking with confidence, his body was screaming at him for the pain he had put it through the last two nights. Needing an outlet, he had spent his time in the ring, boxing. The release of aggression had been glorious and the wins many, but he was now covered in bruises and ached beyond description. He drank the glass in one swallow, giving the strong brew a chance to delightfully numb his aching wounds, and then caught Victor off from whatever it was he had been rambling about. 

“You see, the thing is, Langley,” Xander pushed, “You have no choice in this, as I do not. So, we have this moment, and the two-” he paused, checking his pocket watch, “one hour and fifty-two minutes, to conclude this business. Shall we proceed, or scrap the contract altogether?”

Pleasure filled Xander as he saw his adversary finally wilt beneath his dominance. Did this man really think he would make it easy on him? Unable to help himself, his eyes flicked back toward his intended bride. Her full, rosy lips held a smirk of satisfaction; as if she was enjoying this scene immensely. 

Interesting.

“Very well, Your Grace,” Victor stated, pulling Xander from his brief distraction. 

The defeated tone in Victor’s voice suddenly sealed the second crack in his armor, and Xander reigned in his curiosity. After giving him a nod, Victor led Xander over to the table, where the three ladies had risen from their chairs. He introduced his wife first; whom he had also done some research on. 

There was nothing special or particularly ruthless about her- at least, compared to what most mothers would do to arrange a high-profile marriage for their daughters- but it was reported that she was vainer than most, and spent quite a lot of Victor’s new, mediocre-size fortune on crates of beauty creams, cosmetics, dresses, shoes, jewelry, and wigs from Paris.

“And this is my youngest daughter and your betrothed, Your Grace,” Victor stated, finally arriving at the woman he would be forced to call wife. “Miss Eleanor Langley. Eleanor, come meet your soon-to-be-husband.”

 Unlike her mother and older sister, Eleanor did not smile or bat her eyelashes at Xander as she offered her hand to him. Instead, she raised her vivid honey eyes directly to his, her gaze once more shooting to the very core of him.  

“It is a pleasure to formally meet you, Your Grace,” she responded. The sheer coldness in her tone shocked him. It was the polar opposite of the warmth she radiated, and for the first time since he had been blackmailed, Xander wondered how she felt about the arrangement.

Shaking off his moment of surprise- a rarity for him, Xander accepted Eleanor’s hand. The moment he did, a strong pulse of electricity jolted through him, spreading from his fingertips and going directly toward his inner armor. 

Xander had been with women- many in fact, and quite enjoyed their touch and the way they allowed him to touch them. But never at any time had his hand come in contact with a woman- her mere hand, no less- and felt such a strong current. Unable to take the sensation or the confusion, Xander pulled his hand away swiftly and took a step backward. One of Eleanor’s delicate brows perked up at him as he did so, but he refused to meet her eyes again.

“Right, then,” he stated, walking toward the seat furthest away from all of them, “let’s get this meeting started. We have a wedding to plan.” 

Chapter Three

“So, you see that is why it is necessary to have the reception at the Royal Greenhouse proceeding the ceremony at Holy Trinity,” Victor drolled on, “It is so that we may walk our wedding procession through the street, announcing our good fortune! As I stated earlier, our family, me in particular, has been known for our drive to-”

“Yes, that is all very interesting,” Xander stated, rising to his feet, “but I must excuse myself for a moment.” 

After being bombarded with inappropriate questions regarding his lineage and state of wealth, Xander had then been forced to listen to forty-five minutes of the pompous man’s boorish voice as he listed off an equal number of self-accomplishments and demands. Between wedding details and details of either Victor’s, his wife’s, or his daughters’ accomplishments, Xander’s gaze had wandered to Eleanor. 

She had not even spared a glance toward him since he had pulled his hand away from hers, and had said absolutely nothing; despite the many moments her mother and sister had interjected to add some boring detail about their lives. Somewhere between struggling to pay attention to the plans of his future wedding and wondering what in the bloody hell his future wife was thinking, Xander had started devising a plan.

“I beg your pardon?” Victor asked, looking annoyed at the interruption. “This is a very important discussion, Your Grace. With a man of your stature, it is highly vital that we–” 

“I am sure you are correct, but nature waits for no man’s politeness,” Xander stated bluntly. 

A stifled laugh escaped from Eleanor’s lips as Victor’s face turned red with rage and began to nod his head so violently that his double chin began to jiggle. 

“Very well,” he said gruffly, “I will have a servant show you-” 

“No need,” Xander shot back, already walking through the doorway, “I will find it myself.” 

The moment he was outside and saw no one was going to follow him, Xander made his way stealthily down the hall, opening each door delicately until he found the room he was looking for: Victor’s study. Stealing inside, he shut the door silently and quickly went to work looking for the evidence the man had on him. 

Victor had presented the proof the night of the ball, so Xander knew they were as authentic as the position he had been blackmailed into. However, if he could find the proof and set it aflame, he could be free of this forced marriage and from London society altogether.

“Now where the hell is it?”

Xander looked through cabinets and drawers, opened every portfolio, every keepsake box, and every hollowed-out book he could find, but all he found were rolls of bank notes, old jewelry, and a few debt notes that looked annoying but not blackmail-worthy. Disgusted with his lack of results, Xander grabbed a cigar from one of the many expensive boxes he had found, lit it, and flopped forcefully into the chair behind Victor’s desk. He had underestimated his opponent, and it annoyed him greatly. 

He took a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment in his mouth, and then exhaled slowly. He had to stay calm and find the proof. If it was not here, that only meant it had to be somewhere else in the house. Xander did a quick mental estimation of how many rooms the large manor had and came up with at least twelve if the downstairs layout was any indication. Just as he was wondering if he had enough time to steal upstairs and try to find the right one, Xander heard the door open.

Thinking it was Victor, Xander rose to his feet, feeling the muscles of his aching body tense for the incoming argument about to come his way. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, ready to drop the act of politeness and downright threaten the man with violence, and then saw Eleanor’s brown hair appear around the slightly opened door. Xander felt the tension in his body dissipate as the young woman stepped into his view, and then quietly closed the door behind her. 

Despite the startling difference in appearance Eleanor had with the rest of her family members, Xander had still been expecting her to behave like them. And yet, she had not spoken a word; had not shown an inkling of excitement like the others. Finally, he could take her silence no longer. 

“What are we to do about this?” He asked her bluntly, settling back down into the chair. 

At this, Eleanor’s plump lips pulled into a smirk, and she too took a seat. 

“About this marriage or about you being in my father’s study, smoking his cigars?” She asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. It surprised Xander greatly. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“What part did you not comprehend, Your Grace?” She asked placatingly, her brows drawing down in mock concern, “Are you asking what we are going to do about this obviously forced marriage or are you asking what we are going to do about your dreadfully poor manners?”

Victor’s temper spiked as his grey eyes darkened, and he took another drag from his cigar. It was not often he was talked to this way. In fact, he had never been spoken to so brazenly. He took his time studying Eleanor’s eyes and saw a fury that very well may have matched his own. 

Very well, he thought devilishly, readying himself to argue, let us play this game.

“My poor manners?” He asked, his tone void of emotion. 

“Yes, your poor manners,” Eleanor confirmed quickly, “It is not just you that wants this meeting over with. I too would rather be doing absolutely anything else, and the longer you dally here, the further we are from that accomplishment!”

Xander could not help the sudden grin that broke out across his face as Eleanor lectured him.

“And what of your manners?” He asked, stopping her before she could berate him further. “Is that how you choose to speak to your future husband? Careful, my lady. Such talk could set you up for quite the punishment.” 

Xander felt a stir in his groin as Eleanor’s eyes suddenly widened and her soft peach cheeks turned a crimson red. She lifted her nose at him as her lips nearly curled into a sneer, and he nearly chuckled. 

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Eleanor hissed, rising to her feet. “You seem as horrid as my father.” 

She put her hands on the desk and leaned until their faces were only a forearm’s length apart, and as she did so, a brown curl escaped its pin, falling over her left eye in a devilishly seductive way. Upon seeing it, Xander suddenly felt his breath hitch, and the urge to reach out and touch the silky tendril was almost overwhelming. It was only the pure rage in her honey eyes that stopped him from doing so. 

“Know this, husband-to-be,” she whispered, her tone as heated as her eyes, “I will take punishment from no man. No matter what his station over me may be. I will accept your hand if I must, but I will hurl myself from a cliff before I allow you to think I am a meek, mewling creature.” 

***

Afraid of what she might say next, Eleanor pushed herself away from the desk and walked quickly to the study door. Her entire body was vibrating with fury and if she did not leave soon, she was going to burst into tears by the pure frustration of it all. 

Her fingertips were just about to touch the brass knob when suddenly, she felt a warm grip around her waist, and she was whirled around in a flurry of motion. She could not help the gasp that escaped her throat as Xander’s grey eyes locked in her eyes the same way his hands locked on her wrists. Desire spiked through her but that did not stop her from throwing him a hateful gaze and pushing against his weighted grip- no matter how little use it was. 

“Calm yourself, Honey,” Xander warned, his voice low, and thick with caution as his eyes burned into hers. “And I will give you one chance to apologize for such a horrid accusation. I am nothing like your father.” 

Defiance reared up strong in Eleanor and she raised her chin higher. Pinned to the door or not, she was not about to allow him to frighten her. Despite the strange effect it was having on her, she kept her eyes on his and kept her gaze level and unflustered. 

“Prove it is not true,” she countered coyly, flexing her fingers above his grip on her palms- another small act of defiance. “If you want your apology so badly.”

“You prove you are not like him first,” Xander answered challengingly, suspicion suddenly rising in his eyes. “You are his daughter after all, and like most ladies, I assume you want a rich husband. How do I know you were not complicit in your father’s schemes?” 

She had no idea Xander had loosened his grip on her hands until one of them suddenly shot out, striking the man sharply across the face. Panic rose in her as she realized what she had just done, but something had snapped in her, and she raised her hand to strike him again. This time though Xander expected it, and caught her wrist easily before pinning it to the wall again. 

“Do not do that again,” He warned her, the calmness in his voice scaring her more than the earlier anger. “I am finding this amusing but I do have my limits.” 

Upon saying this, Xander released her wrists and took a step backward, allowing her to decide what to do next. Eleanor thought of going to her parents, of telling them what had just happened, but what good would that do? She would only be berated and punished; most likely even locked in her room until her wedding day. Instead, she chose to take a calming breath and gather herself. 

“I am simply confused,” she said at last, finally bringing her eyes back to his. The now familiar flutter in her stomach returned, annoying her.

“About what?” He asked calmly. If he was still furious about the slap, he was not showing it. 

“I am aware of your reputation, Your Grace,” she stated, trying to choose her words as respectfully as possible, “It is no secret that you relish your freedom and do not seek marriage.” 

Xander nodded at this, and as he did so, Eleanor was sure she saw the briefest flash of an ugly purple bruise below the collar of his buttoned shirt. 

“It is true,” he agreed, walking back to his cigar. “But it was always unavoidable. As the heir to my title, I knew it would happen eventually.” 

“So why me, then?” Eleanor asked, following him back to the desk. “There are plenty of other ladies to choose from. Many much better mannered and better titled than me, and who actually want you.”

The sudden bark of laughter that came from Xander as she said this last bit surprised her, making her pause. 

“Oh, so you do not want me?” He asked, amusement written on his handsome face. “Truly?” 

She gave him an exhausted look. The man obviously enjoyed bantering and she was growing weary of keeping track of how many directions the emotions of the conversation could go. 

“Do not act like you want me, either,” she sighed. They were getting nowhere, and her parents were no doubt on the verge of coming to look for them by now. 

“What if I did?” Xander asked, leaning forward in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “What if I did want you?”

The question suddenly had a shot of embarrassing joy going through her, but she knew better.

“You play too much, Your Grace,” Eleanor huffed, turning away from him. As she did so she heard the clatter of objects being knocked over and then felt Xander’s hand once more close around her wrist. 

She turned back to ask him to let go, but she was met with the most intriguing look. He was smiling, obviously amused, but there was also an earnest curiosity. Could he possibly be enjoying this conversation? Still holding onto her wrist, Xander put the cigar down and walked around the desk until he was standing just a finger’s length away from her. 

“You do not know me, Your Grace,” Eleanor managed to whisper, feeling suddenly caught by his heated gaze. 

“And you do not know me,” Xander replied, his tone matching hers, “And yet, we find ourselves in this situation.” 

Strange but delicious shivers overtook Eleanor’s body as Xander’s hand slowly came up to her face. As the pad of his thumb gently caressed the bottom of her lip, she felt her heart begin to pound rapidly and felt the room around her spin. His touch lingered there only a moment before it made its way down her chin, and as his thumb swept over the delicate flesh of its underside, the rest of his hand formed a circle around her throat. 

Despite knowing she should be frightened, Eleanor felt her excitement grow as his fingers slowly caressed and gently tightened around her neck. She knew she should speak. To tell him to move away, but the words would not form.

She looked at him imploringly, as if he could somehow help. But as he moved closer, and his chiseled lips grazed gently over hers, Eleanor felt a hot, tightening sensation in her lower belly, and she realized it was he she needed help with. 

“You are quite the interesting creature. You know that?” Xander’s barely whispered voice came from the depths of his chest, the tone of it making Eleanor’s legs want to buckle. 

“And you are quite the devilish one.” She heard the words, and understood that they came from her- but they did not sound like her. She had practically purred the words, her voice dipping into a seductive tone of which she did not know she possessed. 

A rumbled growl was all Eleanor heard before she felt Xander’s free arm wrap tightly around her waist, his lips taking full possession of hers. Need exploded through her entire body and hummed in her most intimate of places as she tasted his lips and felt his raw desire and passion on Xander’s lips, but instead of giving in, Eleanor pressed both hands against the duke’s hardened chest and stepped back. 

Desire had nearly turned Xander’s grey eyes black, and the very sight of him, looking so flustered, so close to losing control, sent a shot of need through her so great that she nearly leaned forward again. But this man had not answered her questions, and no matter how devilishly handsome he looked, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of giving in to him. 

“I heard you were a rake,” she told him, pressing harder against his chest. While he had stopped his kiss, he had not let her go. “I can now see why it is said. Now tell me what this deal is you have with my father. Why me?” 

She pressed against his chest again, harder this time, and Xander complied with letting her go. He took a step backward, looking slightly shaken, and ran a hand through his mussed, dark hair before straightening his jacket.

“We will have plenty of time to talk about it when we are wed,” Xander said finally, his deliciously deep voice laced with restraint. Eleanor’s jaw dropped as she looked at him in shock. 

“What?”

Xander nodded and took another steadying breath before his devilish grin returned.

“Yes, I believe I will be amenable to this arrangement after all,” He stated confidently, his eyes slowly raking down her figure. “As for our arrangement, if you really do not know, you should ask your father.”

“Your Grace, what does that mean?” Eleanor implored, starting to grow annoyed with how possessively he was looking at her. “And would you stop looking at me like that? It is most… unsettling!” 

At this Xander laughed suddenly, dipped in place one more quick kiss on her lips, and then moved around her toward the door. 

“Get used to it, Honey,” he stated as he opened the door. “I will be your husband soon and I rather enjoy looking at you.”