CHAPTER 1
“But… but… I’ve heard he’s killedhundreds!”
Miss Phoebe Turner exchanged a wide-eyed glance with her younger sister, Hannah, their eyes meeting unerringly despite the darkness of their father’s carriage.
Their father, as usual, seemed completely immune to the pulse of his daughters’ emotions. Immune or uncaring, that was.
“Don’t be melodramatic, Hannah,” Viscount Turner said with only slightly less frustration than he would have shown to his elder daughter. “He was at war. It’s impossible to know how many men he has killed.”
And that was their father when he wastryingto be comforting.
Hannah’s eyes went even wider, panic clear in her expression as she looked at Phoebe, seeking aid. Phoebe tried not to sigh… or at least, not to sigh audibly. Generally, Phoebe didn’t fretover much about not irritating her father—for one, she seemed to irritate him solely by existing. For another, placating difficult men was not something she believed in doing.
But one could make allowances, she reasoned, when trapped in a carriage. Besides, this was truly about Hannah, not Phoebe.
That was something that Phoebe hadn’t expected.
Frankly, she hadn’t expected almost any of this, mostly because her father had mostly ignored Hannah—which was the way he showed his favor for his younger daughter. Still, when he’d ordered his daughters to pack enough clothing for a few days, Phoebe had been suspicious.
“Where are we going?” Phoebe had asked, even as Hannah had already been dutifully rising to her feet.
Her father had scowled at her. This had been his longstanding habit, but he’d grown particularly prone to scowling after the… incident.
“Must you always ask questions, Phoebe?” he asked, exasperated. Then, before she could say anything, he added, “We’re going to visit an associate of mine. We’ll be gone for three days. Make yourselves presentable.”
Phoebe remained suspicious. Her father didn’t have associates—at least not the kind that would invite himandhis daughters to come visit.
Besides, the whole reason they’d come to the country in the winter, a contrast to their habit of staying in London year-round, was so that Lord Turner could keep his elder daughter away from any prying eyes.
She’d fallen for his caustic dismissal, however, which had led her to believe that whatever her father had planned, it was designed to protect Phoebe’s (extraordinarily questionable) reputation.
Phoebe had braced herself for whatever unpleasantness her father had in store. She would have put her money on him shipping her off to live as some long-forgotten great aunt. The joke would have been on him, however. Old ladies got up to all kinds of things that men could never imagine. Phoebe would have loved playing chaperone.
But her father had waited until their country house was out of sight, until the darkness of night was all that they could see in any direction, before revealing his true purpose.
“Hannah,” he said, sounding pleased with himself in a way that never boded well for his daughters, “you are betrothed. Felicitations.”
“What?” Phoebe had yelped.
“Excuse me?” Hannah had cried.
Their father had smiled, a smile so big that the white of his teeth shone in the darkness.
“I have arranged an engagement with the Duke of Redcliff. You’re going to be a duchess.”
Hannah had practically choked on the words.
“But… but… I’ve heard he’s killedhundreds!”
Phoebe would never admit it, not when it would put her on her father’s side against her sister, but she also considered this to be atouchmelodramatic.
The Duke of Redcliff was the object of much speculation among theton, mostly because sons of dukes simply didnotgo to war, not even when they inherited unexpectedly.
But Aaron Warson hadn’t just gone to war; he’d been a legendary figure, ascending all the way to the rank of admiral. He’d spent years in the Royal Navy, earning accolades for his bravery and ferocity in battle—though Phoebe couldn’t swear that these stories weren’t exaggerated, either.
The part that shedidknow was true was that nobody had seen the Duke in Society for the past several years, at least. Phoebe was close friends with one of the Duke’s cousins, and even she hadn’t ever laid eyes on the man.
He hadn’t even come for Ariadne’s wedding several months prior, and the extended Lightholder family, from which the duke was descended on his mother’s side, was notorious for thetight web that was woven between the various branches of their family tree.
