Chapter 1

Chapter One

“ Y our Grace, if I may speak so boldly, I do not think this is the best way to handle this matter.”

“Ellen, I appreciate your concern, but my mind is made up. There is no other way regarding this,” Alexandra Audley, the Duchess of Westgrave, declared as she watched her reflection in the full-length mirror and the agitated but somehow coordinated maid at her back. “With my father’s considerable debts, I must be here for him.”

Ellen fiddled nervously with the young duchess’s corset, checking the ribbons and lace thrice.

Alexandra was aware that her curvier figure required particular attention to the lacing of her stays, but Ellen was an expert in balancing comfort with achieving a fashionable silhouette.

“Your Grace, must I wait here at Lady Barrington’s country home? Shouldn’t I be with you?”

“The business is best settled by me alone, Ellen. And we are welcome in Lady Barrington’s home, even though she is not often here. I do admire her freedom. Her inheritance has allowed her to travel on her own.”

“S-She’s a widow, Your Grace.”

“True,” Alexandra said thoughtfully.

Alexandra did not care for what Society thought. It was why she was more focused on getting her job done at the gambling hell she was planning to storm into than on how she looked. However, she understood that she had to tame her curves, especially her ample bosom, before she visited a place of ill repute.

“The risk to your reputation… Forgive me, Your Grace.”

The distress was evident in the maid’s voice, and Alexandra could forgive what she would typically consider as overstepping. Ellen knew that she might be speaking out of turn.

“Father’s doing that all on his own,” Alexandra murmured as she smoothed her gloves. “Besides, reputations matter little when you’re already married. Don’t they?”

Through the mirror, she could see Ellen open and close her mouth to protest. The servants might not say anything, but some might suspect that the Duchess’s marriage was nothing more than a farce. Her maid, whom she trusted the most, was the one who knew more than the rest.

Then again, Alexandra had not seen her husband in a year.

“It’s time for me to go,” she said after her maid finished styling her chocolate-brown ringlets.

It didn’t matter what she looked like when she might as well be heading for war.

Holding her chin up with determination, she turned to pat Ellen’s hand and strode toward the door, heading for the awaiting carriage and the potentially dangerous task ahead.

Alexandra arrived at her destination, wondering if it was folly on her part. She took a long, deep breath before walking through the heavy doors of the gaming establishment. The guards stopped her in her tracks, with one holding out a hand to keep her back.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” he demanded. “This is not a place for you.”

“Perhaps she is looking for her runaway lover,” the other guard jeered.

All Alexandra could think was how silly they both looked—outwardly fancy but inwardly corrupt.

“Let me in, or I will report your establishment!”

The two large men looked at each other. A flicker of amusement crossed one’s face briefly, while the other remained stern. The Duchess knew that her report would not affect an establishment that even high officials frequented, but the two men shrugged and let her in.

“Let the lady see for herself…”

A shift from the vanilla scents in her country house and the rose blooms in Lady Barrington’s townhouse, the pungent smell of cigars, alcohol, and sweat invaded Alexandra’s nostrils.

She had prepared for this, but the reality overwhelmed her.

Surprisingly, the music was light enough for people to carry on deals and conversations. She recognized Haydn but thought that her mother’s pianoforte rendition would be several times more superior.

The place was crowded with wealthy aristocrats, social climbers, merchants, and the owner’s thugs. Despite the generally well-dressed crowd, it reeked of desperation.

“Father’s and mine,” Alexandra grumbled to herself.

She weaved her way through the crowd, ignoring the blatant curiosity in some of the stares and the whispers that reminded her that what she told Ellen might be inaccurate. Some reputations did matter. She was a duke’s wife, after all.

One other thing gambling hells were notorious for was scandal.

“Isn’t that the Duke of Westgrave’s wife?” a man who looked faintly familiar asked.

“Looking for her husband, of course!” another snorted.

“Or looking for a lover,” a man quipped, his eyes roving over Alexandra shamelessly.

Alexandra ignored all the comments she heard—mostly speculations about who she was and what she was doing there—and continued hunting for the man responsible for most of her misfortunes.

Her father.

It was easy enough to find him. A loud argument had broken out near the farthest corner of the gambling hell. Alexandra could recognize his arrogant voice even from across the room.

Suddenly, the envelope hidden in her purse felt heavy. Her chest tightened as she thought of all those years Lord Hartwell failed her as a father. It didn’t mean that she’d fail him as his daughter.

“Gideon, you know I’ll pay you as soon as I have the money,” her father begged.

Gideon Lockwood, a man notorious for his business, barked out a laugh. He held his rounded belly with undisguised glee. Then, he abruptly stopped and watched Lord Hartwell with narrowed eyes.

“You? Your son-in-law is nothing but a rake and a drunk like you! How will you repay me?”

“Let me play, Gideon. I will pay you back in a fortnight. In full.”

“That was your promise the last time, Hartwell.” The humor was wholly gone from Lockwood’s voice. Instead, it dripped with menace.

His eyes were blazing, focused on Lord Hartwell’s once handsome face. Drink and lack of sleep had made his skin sallow and thin.

“I will pay his debts,” Alexandra volunteered, her voice surprisingly steady and strong, even though the hand that held her purse slightly trembled. She clasped it in her other hand to soothe it.

The small crowd gawking at the unpleasant scene parted for her, and she found herself only a few feet from the two men. She could see her father’s tired eyes, the grey in his beard and hair.

“The Duchess!” boomed Lockwood. “I hope you know what you are getting yourself into. Have you persuaded your husband to give you money to save your father?”

“I have money of my own,” Alexandra, fumbling for the envelope in her purse.

She made a tight fist to control the movement, hoping the gambling hell lord wouldn’t notice.

“Is that right?” Lockwood asked, the corners of his mouth twitching, but the menace remained.

A low rumble of laughter soon escaped him, his shoulders and belly shaking with his mirth. He met the eyes of two of his lackeys, and all three of them laughed.

“H-Here,” Alexandra handed him the envelope while her father looked on with a gaping mouth and furrowed brow.

It was almost painful to let go of the money she had worked hard for, but she had to.

“This should cover his debts,” she said.

Lockwood unceremoniously pulled out the banknotes and counted them. The strains of music around them taunted her.

Ironically, it seemed to be one of her compositions.

“Your Grace, your father owes me a much more considerable amount. This here can barely cover half of it. Not even close.”

“W-What?”

“Isn’t that what I just said? I know where to find the money to pay you back, Gideon. There is no need to rely on this useless chit. I’d never rely on her! She cannot do anything right. If only my son Julian were still alive!”

Alexandra gasped. She would have taken it better if Lockwood had said those words, but it was her father—her father who insulted her.

Useless? Can’t do anything right?

She had lived for him for the past few years and married the man he foisted her on with barely a complaint.

He wasn’t even finished. “What do you think a bit of coin would do for me? Useless! You are nothing but a brainless chit! I would never rely on such a worthless burden!”

Alexandra’s eyes stung. She blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall as she stumbled backward toward the crowd. Inhaling the stench of musky perfume mingled with tobacco and sweat, she almost cast up what little she had for brunch. Then, she felt someone push her forward back to her father and Lockwood.

She held back a shriek. The hurt turned into anger as she got pushed from side to side by a restless throng of gaming patrons.

“Let the lady play instead. That will pay off Hartwell’s debt!” someone shouted.

Protests rippled across the rest of the patrons. They seemed disgruntled that Lord Hartwell’s troubles interrupted their game time.

Lord Hartwell surprised his daughter by swinging at the man who made the suggestion. Others drunkenly joined in. Alexandra suspected that the other men were merely joining in the chaos for fun. With the main game paused, they were looking for another type of risk.

The Duchess decided then that it was the best time to escape the gambling hell, but someone grabbed her wrist. It hurt.

“So, Your Grace, you’re not against mingling with the gambling folks, eh?” A man dressed like a lord pulled her closer to him.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and had blonde hair and blue eyes. Some women might find him attractive, but Alexandra could only shudder at his closeness.

“Unhand me, please!”

“You know I have an account here at Devil’s Draw? I can persuade Lockwood to forgive your father’s debts.” His breath smelled of Madeira and cigar, and he was too close for comfort.

Alexandra continued to struggle against the man’s grip, gagging at the smell. The man might look wealthy and handsome, but he was even worse than her father. His money would not change anything for the better.

The grip loosened suddenly as he was flung away from her.

Alexandra watched him stagger backward. Someone had pulled him back and threw him aside like a sack of potatoes.

“No one touches my wife,” a familiar voice growled as her savior stalked the cowering scoundrel.

She watched as her husband, Oliver Audley, the Duke of Westgrave, swung a fist at the man who was harassing her.