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The Duke’s Heir

He’s ready to offer forever—she’s certain she doesn’t need it… until he gives her reason to dream.

Raised to be the perfect wife, I spent my youth under my mother’s strict eye, trained to charm society and secure a marriage that would lift our family’s standing. Yet after witnessing the true nature of one highly eligible gentleman, I vowed never to wed a man of the ton.

Then I met Lord Montague—a man who offered love, respect, and a partnership unlike anything I had been taught to hope for. Our marriage was brief but blissful, and widowhood came far too soon. Now, in my twenties and comfortably independent, my mother has returned to her relentless matchmaking, determined to see me married again whether I wish it or not.

To appease her—and to end her interference once and for all—I have agreed to endure one final season. One season, and then she must leave me be. I have no intention of remarrying; come autumn, my freedom will be secure.

At least, that was the plan.

Unfortunately, Lord James Hardy, heir to the Duke of Kent, has decided I should be his next pursuit. Charming and devastatingly handsome he may be, but I am no naïve debutante. No man will claim my independence—or my heart. Least of all James Hardy.

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Sample:

“Tell me,” A voice suddenly says from nearby, startling me, “are you waiting for someone in particular, Lady Montague? Or are you simply refusing everyone who dares to ask you to dance?”

It is none other than the duke’s eldest son, Lord James Hardy, wearing an expression that speaks of his arrogance, vanity and all-round conceitedness. I knew I’d see him again, of course, especially with Mamma dragging me to every ball of the Season, but I did not expect to have to see his irritatingly handsome face smiling all haughtily at me again. Neither did I think I would ever have to hear his voice taunting me; it is positively vexing.

“I am sure someone of your stature has an abundance of options, Lord Hardy. Why, there is the lovely Miss Thornton over by the doors. I am sure she would love to dance with an eligible bachelor such as yourself.”

He even follows the direction of my finger to inspect his other ‘options’ and proceeds to look her over from the top of her feathered head to the hem of her silk dress. Right in front of me!

“Are you appraising her figure, Lord Hardy?” I finally ask, unable to keep the clear disdain from my voice.

From the corner of my eye, I see him smiling widely with self-satisfaction, and still with his eyes focussed on Miss Thornton and her ghastly feathered hair. His teeth gleam with perfect whiteness; the man is extremely handsome, and his knowledge of the fact is irritatingly obvious.

“Not exactly,” he eventually replies while lifting his hand to acknowledge some other gentleman who no doubt also enjoys the sound of his own voice.

“Oh? Because you staring at her says otherwise,” I retort with my own conceited smile. I am not sure I like who I become around this man. Since when did I care about how someone such as Lord Hardy, chooses to show his interest in a young lady?

“Actually, if you look to Miss Thornton’s right…” His voice trails off as he points towards the large, ornate mirror that is hanging on the wall behind Miss Thornton. The very mirror that has my body, from head to knee, reflected inside of it.

An uncomfortable heat of extreme embarrassment spreads over me at the realisation of his having studied my reaction to his supposed ‘staring’ at another woman.

“No need to blush, Lady Montague, I have rather enjoyed watching your expression when you believed I was interested in another lady. It told me I am not being entirely refused by the lady I am truly interested in. In fact, you have been most revealing, whether you intended it or not.”

I open my mouth to protest, but in all honesty, I have no idea what to say that will make me appear any less foolish.

“However,” he says whilst adjusting his glove and his gaze moving to where his parents are now talking to Lord Smyth, almost as if I have lost his interest entirely, “I know when to quit whilst I am ahead, so I shall bid you good evening.”

He steps back and moves to stand in front of me, this time without his arrogant smile. He looks entirely serious, which only leaves me all the more unable to think of a single retort. Nodding his head once, he makes to leave.

“I hope to see you soon, Lady Montague,” he says formally, “be sure to continue turning down any gentlemen who dare to ask you to dance. I shall claim the first dance, should I be so fortunate. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I believe I respond. To be truthful, I do not believe the word actually left my lips. Instead, I watch as he marches across the room, passing Miss Thornton without even a glance her way.

Strangely, I do not feel at all nervous after having such a conversation with him. In fact, I did not once feel anything close to fear during that entire discourse. And if there was anyone who would usually bring on one of my fits of nerves, it would be the disarmingly handsome Lord Hardy.