Page 1 of Never Love a Duke

Chapter 1

1817, Kisswick, a seaside town in Sussex, 50 miles south of London

“Everyone, please remain calm,” Mirabelle shouted over the growing crowd.

A large man bumped into her from behind, calling over his shoulder, "Apologies, Lady Mirabelle. Trying to find Mr. Linton.” She didn’t recognize the man, but that was not unusual since so many new faces had poured into the town with the recent gold frenzy. To put it succinctly, the men outnumbered the women by probably four to one at this point.

And at this exact moment, in this precise location, there were so many people. So many in such a small town. That all hell was about to break loose if someone didn’t take control of the situation.

“Where’s Mr. Linton?” A voice called out.

“Is he all right?” Another voice from the crowd.

A third voice chimed in, “Can’t believe the poor man’s luck. And just after we rebuilt the place for him.”

The voices all mixed together.

“I heard he’s dead.”

“Not dead. But got shot. Twice.”

“I heard four shots.”

“I didn’t hear any.”

And it didn’t stop there. A myriad of voices continued overlapping each other.

“What about the girl?”

“That was no girl. It was a lady. Abducted, she was.”

“I heard she was shot.”

“She’s definitely dead. Poor girl.”

“She’s not dead. They rode her off to the sawbones. Gotta take her leg.”

A coiling dread tightened around Mirabelle’s chest. None of the talk was true.

They had all gathered upon hearing the gossip of Violet being abducted—shot, killed, whisked away for some reason—from Mr. Duke’s jewelry store. It was utter madness the way people were filling the main street to either offer help or catch the gossip about what was going on. In a complicated way, there was a tiny bit of a cozy feeling to see the masses coming together to fight for a cause—despite its tragic source.

“Where is everyone still coming from?” Iris asked gruffly at her side.

“News like this spreads quickly. Don’t you remember the fire?” As Iris nodded, Mirabelle noted the frown lines in her friend’s face were not just due to the amassing crowd, but more likely due to the fact that the love of her life and his best friend had just ridden off after a madman to save her sister. It was all one giant ball of chaos, and the two of them were tumbling around inside of it, unsure of where or when it was going to stop rolling.

That kind of lack of control was about to sweep Mirabelle off of her feet if she didn’t find some sturdy footing, which she was used to doing. She needed to divert everyone’s attention to something else. To calm down or ride after the men. To return to their errands or even to simply go home and take a nap. Anything but create more trouble here in the center of town.

Tristan and Alex had ridden off and were surely going to bring Violet back to Kisswick safe and sound. If only she could have everyone just listen to her for one minute she would inform them of this, but their chatter was far too loud for her to have any such luck.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She attempted a holler. A clap. A whistle. Didn’t matter how unladylike it was, she just needed them to listen. Besides, many of her ladylike tendencies had fallen to the wayside once she had set up her spinster sisterhood in what was now deemed Spinster Cove. She was only too grateful for her chance to be here and make a difference in the lives of women—spinsters—who were just like her, despite the recent flock of them finding love nearly the moment they stepped into Kisswick. Ah well, love and marriage or a sisterhood of spinsters, so long as women had options.

And that’s why she was here. She was about to spend her inheritance on Greene House—just as soon as the elusive owner approved of her offer—and then her real life would begin. The life she’d been waiting on for nearly thirty years. The life she never thought she should have, but had finally permitted to herself.

It had only taken nearly failing both of her cousins as a chaperone. Thankfully Seraphina and Lenora had escaped ruination; in fact, both had landed themselves a duke—though they couldn’t be more opposite from each other. Far too many women were not lucky enough to walk away from scandal unscathed. She was one of the lucky ones as well, but just by the skin of her teeth. Foolish. So blazingly foolish. She should have known not to trust a kiss in the dark, especially with him. No matter how solid he had seemed. How strong his arms had held her. How safe he had made her feel. It was all a facade.

Done with dukes. Done with men. Done with love. She had more important endeavors to pursue in helping any women she could.

Hence an option like Greene House.