Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

“ I am sure that my sister misspoke her words,” Lydia Knight laughed nervously as she smiled at Lord Tarren.

To her relief, he smiled back, but when she turned toward her little sister Juliet, she frowned at her blank expression.

“Juliet,” Lydia urged, forcing her smile back on her face, “Perhaps you would elaborate for our guest?”

“I meant precisely what I said, Lord Tarren,” Juliet replied coolly with a raised brow. “I do not find insects at all thrilling, not even butterflies. And I could not possibly feign interest in any research you so obviously want to go on and on about.”

Lydia gasped as Lord Tarren cleared his throat and ducked his head, a deep blush overtaking his handsome face.

“Juliet,” Lydia whispered in horror.

“My deepest apologies,” Lord Tarren said, his voice trembling as he rose, “It is clear that I have wasted everyone's time this evening. I shall no longer bother you ladies.”

“Lord Tarren, wait,” Lydia implored as Juliet called out, “’Tis most appreciated, my lord.”

For a moment Lydia felt herself torn in two; unsure whether to run after the Earl of Peamont and his bruised feelings or shake her little sister until her brain rattled back into place. Deciding that going after Lord Tarren would only lead her to comforting a grown man, which she did not feel inclined to do, she turned back toward Juliet and fixed her emerald green eyes on her little sister.

“What in heaven’s name has gotten into you,” Lydia scolded her as she took in Juliet’s irked expression.

“I did not like him,” Juliet replied with a shrug as she inspected her nails. “He wants a wife that will swoon over every boring word he says, and I haven’t the patience.”

“Is that not what you want to be for your husband?” Lydia asked, knowing what her sister was looking for: A match. A traditional but loving marriage where she could fulfill her wifely duties happily and willingly.

Juliet looked up at Lydia, her green eyes mirroring her own, and raised an inquisitive brow.

“You want me to swoon over bugs?” she asked, then chortled, “I will listen eagerly and even swoon over my future husband’s stories, to be sure, but they must be about something more exciting than butterflies.”

Lydia opened her mouth to argue, but the truth was she saw her sister’s point. Lord Tarren seemed to be obsessed with creeping, crawling things, and it would take a woman equally obsessed to genuinely enjoy everything he had to say about them. Still…

“Did you have to be so rude with your response, though?” Lydia asked finally. “I do not see why you had to be so, so…hateful.”

At this, Juliet sighed in irritation, turned in her seat toward Lydia, and said, “Lydia, I tried to change the subject. You tried to change the subject. There was attempt after polite attempt to change the conversation, but he refused to allow it! Finally, I could not take it anymore! And if his reaction was to sulk like a scolded boy then it only confirms my ill regard for him. I do not want to marry a boy! They are more emotional than women!”

Again, another point she could not argue. Sometimes Lydia wondered what her mother might have said or done if she were still here. She did not doubt that she would have been better equipped to handle Juliet’s first season. Unlike Lydia, their mother had the experience of being part of a marriage. As the eldest of the three daughters, Lydia was the spinster. With their mother gone, their strict but distant father had allowed Lydia to remain unmarried.

Lydia knew it was only because he could not be bothered with the daily involvement it took to raise three daughters, but she was thankful for it all the same. Like Juliet, she too thought that the men of her time were far more emotional than they used to be and were quick to become offended by any intelligent thoughts. It was wearisome.

However, like their middle sister, Alice, Juliet was to be married and would not be allowed to follow Lydia’s footsteps into spinsterhood. Alice had tried to remain single before she’d met her husband Duncan, the Duke of Baxter, and had found her love match. Now Lydia was trying desperately to help Juliet find the same.

“Is it just him?” Lydia asked, speaking a tad kinder to her youngest sister as she moved a little closer to her. “Or is it something else? Lord Tarren is not the only gentleman suitor you have discarded as of late. You were most excited to come out this season! What has happened?”

Juliet’s eyes softened as she let out a heavy breath and unclenched her fingers from her own arms. However, before she could speak, a knock came from the doorway and the sisters turned toward it.

“My ladies, forgive me,” said Cora, one of their servants, as she curtsied toward the two of them, “But the Lord Knight would like to speak with you, Lady Lydia.”

She paused, her young, pretty face flushing as she added with a timid whisper, “He seems most urgent about it, my lady.”

“Take a rest, Cora,” Lydia responded kindly as she rose from her seat. “Why don’t you take these leftover cakes back to the kitchen and have yourself a treat?”

Relief flooded the maid’s face, and she quickly curtsied again before bustling to collect the trays. Lydia knew how intimidating and impatient her father could be. They tried to hire male staff as much as possible, but their turnover rate for maids was incredibly high due to them becoming frightened of his temper. Lydia found through the years that they were inclined to stay longer if she offered the maids little breaks after being cornered by her father.

“May I go to my room now?” Juliet asked, sounding both bored and annoyed.

Lydia turned back to her sister just as she reached the door.

“Absolutely not,” she replied sternly, becoming more maternal than sisterly, “This conversation will no doubt be about you. You will stay here until I find out what Father has to say.”

Juliet grumbled something incoherent as she slumped into her chair, her pretty pink lace dress wrinkling horribly with her poor posture. Lydia thought of correcting her, but knowing it was futile, she simply shook her head and walked away. She found their father Owen where he usually was when he was home; in his study.

“There you are,” Owen grumbled, his eyes moving from his paperwork to Lydia as she walked into the room. Unlike her colorful sister, Lydia wore a simple cream dress with capped sleeves and a ribbon hem below the bust. Her long, wavy, light brown hair was twisted up above her neck into a respectable style that was neither harsh nor complimentary, but practical.

Her face was pretty like her mother’s had been. Soft pink cheeks with subtle cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, a small nose, and expressive brows. Also similar to her mother, she had a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a slim, almost sprite-like frame. Lydia knew that when Owen looked at her he saw his late wife, and something about that angered him deeply.

Throughout the years she had learned to take his aggression in her stride and was rarely bothered by her father’s snide insults or his dependence upon her. Her ongoing stoicism meant she would not be compelled to marry, and for her, that was a price worth paying. Once Juliet was married, she had no further obligation to stay and take care of her father.

“What may I help you with, Papa?” Lydia asked kindly as he threw her a displeased look.

“How did it go with Lord Tarren?” he asked, pulling a letter out of an envelope.

Lydia smiled at him calmly.

“It went well, to be sure, but I do not believe it is a stable match,” she replied, the lie coming smoothly.

Owen grunted at this and then, with his eyes still on the correspondence, he replied “Perhaps that is for the best, as I have found a superior suitor for Juliet, who is on his way here as we speak. Tarren is an earl. Noble, yes. But the gentleman arriving shortly is a duke. Your sister Alice did well with hers and now look at her. Make sure that Juliet does the same.”

Owen gave the command quietly and without much of an edge to his voice, but it was a command all the same. Sorrow filled Lydia as she realized what this meant for Juliet. Her time to choose a husband had run out. The decision was now being made for her.

“Alice had three seasons to find a husband, Papa,” Lydia said, cautious with her tone. “This is Juliet’s first season. Perhaps it would be easier to help convince Juliet to marry a duke if she was allotted the same time?”

“This is not up for discussion,” Owen countered matter-of-factly, “The duke has made a request to call upon your sister and I will not only honor it but try my damnedest to get her married off to him. Alice had three seasons, yes, but she had not been approached by a duke in that time. Juliet now has, and that is that.”

“Are you saying you have already accepted a marriage contract on her behalf?” Lydia asked, apprehension tunneling through her at the thought.

Owen rose from his desk, his eyes growing dark as he looked down from his full height at Lydia.

“You may be five-and-twenty, girl, but you are still my daughter, and if you question me like that again I will remind you of your place,” he warned, his voice low.

Lydia recognized the powerlessness of her reality, and though her mind itched to snarl right back at her father, she only bowed her head and apologized.

“Be sure that your sister has no ill remarks on her tongue this evening,” Owen said as he made a dismissive motion toward her, “I have heard from others she has grown quite derisive.”

Lydia turned back to him at this, her stomach clenching, and Owen gave her a final warning look.

“Do not lie to me on your sister’s behalf again, Lydia,” he stated sternly. “I understand that I have given you certain freedoms, but they can be taken away in a single moment if you should prove unworthy of them.”

Lydia felt a chill go down her back, but she only smiled and curtsied at her father before taking her leave. Back in the sitting room, Juliet became boisterous at the news, much to Lydia’s surprise.

“Please tell me this means you shall act more ladylike this time,” Lydia asked as she watched her younger sister primp in a nearby mirror.

“Of course I am,” Juliet gushed as she pinched her cheeks and practiced her smiles. “If it is a duke it is most likely one of Duncan’s friends. Ambrose is off the market now thanks to Barbara, though I do love that it was she who caught him. Surely it is not Ezra. Morgan is the most agreeable. I am sure it is him and I am sure I can converse with him.”

Though Barbara was not their sister by blood she was loved as such, and her new husband Ambrose had indeed become another big brother figure to join her family. Neither Ambrose nor Duncan particularly cared for her father and would often engage with Owen simply to get him to stop badgering his daughters. It was a relief, one Lydia relished, but the thought of Morgan or possibly Ezra marrying her sister made her grimace.

Morgan was fun, boyishly handsome, and light-hearted, but he was as foolish as he was pretty and was often the one getting his little band of dukes in trouble. He was a rake through and through and seduced his ladies with flattering talk and a smooth voice, and often left them pining, broken-hearted, and loose in tongue. His stories of raking had become a well-discussed topic of conversation amongst the women of the ton.

On the other hand, though, Ezra was the complete opposite. Dark. Stoic. He had a sense of humor, yes, but it was wry and required a certain level of wit to comprehend. His jokes had never fallen short on Lydia and though they were at times vulgar she did indeed find them clever…but he was emotionless. Void. Empty. And although the details of his ways with women had never been discussed, many had suspected that his proclivities were of a dangerous variety.

Lydia did not want either for her sister. She was sure Juliet did not want that either, no matter how good-looking both of them were.

“It could very well be a different duke,” Lydia replied, busying herself with organizing the books Juliet had pulled from the nearby shelves. “We do not know that it is Lord Frampton or Granthill.”

It could not be them. No. Neither of them would dare. They were not friends, per se, but…they just wouldn’t!

“What other dukes are on the marriage market this year that you are aware of?” Juliet asked glancing at Lydia through the mirror. “Aside from Lord Dennings.”

Juliet stopped as her eyes grew wide and turned toward Lydia with a grimace.

“You do not think it is Lord Dennings, is it?” she asked timidly.

Lord Dennings, a duke of which even Lydia could not recall, had been one to corner Helena and Barbara last year uttering threats. It was Ambrose that had saved them from Dennings’ ill intentions, and while they had kept the incident to themselves, there was not a single member of their little group who felt inclined to be friendly toward the man.

“If it is Dennings I will forbid it,” Lydia stated adamantly, wrapping her arms around her little sister.

“You cannot forbid Father anything,” Juliet replied wearily as she accepted her sister’s embrace. “Let us just hope that it is Morgan.”

Before she could reply, they both heard their father’s voice in the hall and went rigid. Juliet gave her a frightened glance before the two let go of each other, smoothed their dresses, and fixed their smiles as the two men entered the room. Lydia felt Juliet stiffen at her side as she saw her father and the handsome, raven-haired, black-suited man enter the room. Lydia felt her panic suddenly rise as she recognized the suitor.

It wasn’t Dennings, thank God. But it wasn’t Morgan either. It was Ezra.

“Your reputation precedes you, Lord Knight,” Ezra said smoothly as Owen walked him toward the drawing room. “As does the reputation of your daughters.”

Owen Knight, a tall, rather rotund man who was the father of Ezra’s best friend’s wife, seemed to shrink and blush under the cool words. Ezra was not particularly fond of him and found him rather… lacking in many areas. He felt a shudder of disgust as he watched the man’s reaction but ignored it.

“If I may say so, Your Grace, your reputation precedes you as well,” Owen replied respectfully. “I was quite honored and surprised that you wanted to pay a visit to my Juliet. I was not aware that you were even looking for a wife this season.”

“I do not find it necessary to share my intentions with our little society,” Ezra countered matter-of-factly, “I shall not make a scene or fuss when it comes to securing a wife.”

Ezra would never admit it outright, but Thomas’s earlier words had been correct. After months of research and thought, Ezra had concluded that a wife was just what he needed to turn his devilish reputation around. Now he simply had to acquire one.

The boy had smirked wildly at him when Ezra had explained that he would be busy for a few months, as if knowing exactly what Ezra would be up to. And although Ezra had been annoyed that he’d been educated by a fourteen-year-old, the respect he had for the young orphaned duke only rose in response.

Ezra was a good head shorter than Owen and could likely fit into the man’s clothes twice over, but the man still walked beside him as though he would need to lunge away at a moment’s notice; as if Ezra was a predator seeking his kill. Ezra was used to this response and preferred that his acquaintances be scared rather than comfortable. Things were always easier that way. If that tactic did not achieve what he wanted, that was when his future wife would step in and tip the scales in his favor.

“Yes, of course,” Owen agreed, stumbling over his words, “Well, as I said, I am beyond pleased that you have taken interest in my Juliet. She will surely be the girl you are looking for.”

Ezra said nothing as he walked with Owen into the sitting room and saw Lydia and Juliet waiting for them. Juliet, as ever, was pretty and delicate. But Lydia’s coldly beautiful, harsh stare was what made him smile. With an added flourish, he bowed toward the two young ladies.

“Lady Lydia, Miss Juliet,” he greeted crisply. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

“It is not as if we had a choice,” Lydia retorted in a low, icy tone.

“What was that?” Owen grunted as Ezra let out a low chuckle.

“It is an honor for our family to be your choice,” Lydia said, louder and sweeter this time with a pained smile.

Ezra nearly laughed out loud at this but chose instead to turn his unreadable face toward Owen.

“I appreciate your guidance, but I believe Lady Lydia shall be a sufficient chaperone,” he said to their father. “You may go now.”

Owen’s heavy brows momentarily rose in surprise as his cheeks grew ruddy and a frown formed on his face. As Owen began to voice his objection, the arch of Ezra’s brow and the set of his jaw shifted subtly. Little, inconspicuous movements that took his impassive expression to one of primal challenge. Owen’s angered look slid from his face as if it was made of oil and he merely nodded.

“I do not know what game you and your band of musketeers are playing now, but this is not amusing,” Lydia hissed at him the moment Owen left the room.

“What game?” Ezra drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets once more. “I have decided to take a wife and that there would be no better woman than a sister of Alice’s.”

He then tilted his head slightly to the side, one brow arched in mock disappointment.

“I would have thought you would be pleased to know that you are highly regarded,” he mused, adding a bite to his mocking tone.

“We are pleased,” Juliet whispered, visibly shaking beside Lydia.

Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, only glancing up at him every few seconds, as if fearful of meeting his gaze. Ezra felt his amusement dissipate as he absorbed Juliet’s countenance. Juliet was a good girl. Perhaps too good, too meek, to ever become unafraid of him.

Had she always been this small? Childlike? He had not paid much attention to her person when he had done his research, at ease with the ton’s general talk of her beauty. It was their acceptance he needed, after all, for his plan to work.

“We are allowed to be pleased and surprised at the same time,” Lydia retorted, giving him a level stare as she tilted her chin slightly higher.

“We were hoping you would be Morgan, at least, not… you.”

At this, Ezra let out a genuine but short laugh, making Juliet jump and Lydia narrow her eyes.

“Admittedly, that is not the first time I have been addressed with such distaste, but I must say, Lady Lydia, I do rather like it when it comes from your mouth.”

Lydia glowered at him, and it hit him right in his groin. Vicious, he mused silently. Not meek at all.

“My sister means no disrespect,” Juliet replied quickly before Lydia could let loose the retort so obviously readied on her tongue. “We are…it is just, our father gave us little information about who we were meeting today. Perhaps seeing that it is one of our brother-in-law’s friends has caught us…off guard.”

Ezra felt a sliver of annoyance as he forced his face to remain impassive.

“Your father did not specify it was I who would be visiting?” he asked calmly as he turned his cool gaze to hers.

Juliet began to tremble harder; her eyes and nose reddened, and her chin began to quiver. Unable to tolerate her emotional reaction, he looked to Lydia for an answer.

“He did not,” Lydia replied in her usual polite tone. “However, that certainly should not surprise you. So, now that we are here, let us get down to it, shall we?”

“Get down to it?” Ezra asked, his lips twitching.

“Yes, the discussion at hand,” Lydia replied, gracefully gesturing her arm between the three of them.

“Juliet, darling, do you want to marry this man?”

It was rare that Ezra was ever surprised enough to not control his features, but at the bluntness of Lydia’s question, his eyebrows flew toward his hairline. Juliet all but squeaked before she found her voice, riddled with trembling tones and fear.

“Lydia, what has gotten into you?”

She risked an apologetic look toward Ezra then added, “Please forgive her, Your Grace, she is usually not like this! My sister taught Alice and me impeccable manners.”

“Do not apologize to him for me, Juliet, I am quite capable of offering it on my own if the duke has earned it,” Lydia quipped back, not taking her eyes off of Ezra.

“Surely, Your Grace, someone of your stature cannot be easily offended by a woman,” she added, raising a challenging brow.

Something…something like joy, but not as exuberant, filled Ezra’s heart as he accepted Lydia’s challenge. He had known of both Lydia and Juliet for nearly two years now, and though Lydia had once been as frightened of him and Duncan as Juliet was of him alone, that certainly no longer seemed to be the case.

Her vivid emerald eyes flashed with flecks of gold and bronze as she stared unabashedly at him, making her power known. If he was certain, and he was sure he was, he even saw a small smile tugging at those full, rounded lips.

“Certainly not,” he replied in a slow, patronizing tone as he tilted his head toward her.

Lydia arched a single eyebrow at him, begrudgingly impressed. It was only then that he noticed his mockingly gentle tone had caused Juliet to stop shivering and finally look at him for longer than one second.

So young. So innocent. Ezra thought, taking in her wide-eyed stare. She had her sister’s hue of iris, yes, but aside from that, there was no other similarity between them. Too young. Too innocent. He knew that she would suffer a fatal coronary if he pursued her further.

“This visit has been most intriguing,” Ezra mused, looking from Juliet to Lydia, “I thank you, ladies, for your time, but as the night draws forth so does my work.”

“You are leaving?” Juliet asked, speaking for the first time.

The relief on her face was evident, but there was no offense for Ezra to take from it. He knew he’d terrified her and would not blame her for it. Admittedly, there was something about him to be terrified of, was there not?

“Consider it a perk of becoming my wife,” he replied dryly, “Due to my many duties, our times together would be brief unless your presence was required.”

“You are still pursuing her?” Lydia asked, her smug look deteriorating into annoyance as she took a step toward him.

“The young lady did not say no to your question,” Ezra replied, and before Lydia could railroad Juliet into an answer he added, “Therefore I shall call again tomorrow.”

“Oh no, you are not leaving,” Lydia demanded, her skirts swishing as she walked swiftly toward him. “She is going to tell you…”

“You want me to stay?” he asked, using his earlier mocking tone.

“Certainly not,” Lydia seethed, “but I want you to…”

Freckles, he mused, unfazed by the bristling woman’s forward manner. How…adorable.

“You must understand something, Lady Lydia,” his deep, clear voice cutting her off mid-sentence. There was no mockery this time. “I am in control of this situation. Not you. This visit was…complimentary on my behalf. But there is no discussion to be had here.”

She looked at him with pure fury at first, but as he let the black void of his soul take over and reposition his features, he saw her anger change to alarm.

“I…I apologize, for my brashness, Your Grace,” Lydia stammered, breaking her gaze away from his, “But I must insist we…”

“As I stated, I am out of time,” Ezra replied, his tone cutting through hers like a knife.

He walked to the doorway of the sitting room, but as he was about to step into the hallway, he paused and turned back to Lydia with a taunting look.

“That was a valiant effort to save your sister from my wicked claws, Lady Lydia,” he remarked. “Truly.”

Ezra stifled a grin as he watched the fury return to her eyes and he slipped out into the hallway.