Chapter 1

Chapter One

“O h… God…”

My head . What have I done?

Miss Selina Gouldsmith, daughter of the Dowager Viscountess Langham, had never felt such nausea. Her stomach churned—that feeling that there was a storm raging through her guts and trying to escape from her mouth. Her head throbbed. Perhaps a little man had crawled into her ear last night and was now beating her skull with a mallet? And even with her eyes closed as they were, she could feel the room spinning around her.

“What on earth…” she groaned as she forced her eyes open.

The early morning sun seared her eyeballs, and she gasped, throwing up her arm to shield them. Mouth as dry as a desert tundra, she attempted to swallow, but her tongue was thick and heavy and coarse. Slowly, her head now spinning—bearable, compared to the headache—she pushed herself up in a desperate effort to get her bearings.

The first thing she noticed was that the room she had slept in was not her own. She recognized it as one of the spare rooms in her home. Strange that she had slept here rather than returning to her quarters.

The second thing she noticed was that she was dressed, thankfully, in a nightgown. The thin garment clung to her sweaty body, which was strange, as she was shaking as if cold.

And the third thing she noticed?—

“Oh!” She sprung suddenly from the bed in a panic, landing on the timber floor with a heavy thump.

She was not alone in the room.

Lying in bed beside her, out cold and wrapped in the same blanket that Selina had just been sleeping beneath, was a man!

“Urgh…” A groan escaped his not-asleep body. “What in the name of all things…”

Selina jumped to her feet in a state of panic. Her hangover had her moving slower than she might have liked, and it clouded her mind in a way that made it impossible to think, let alone act!

She stood frozen in shock, staring wide-eyed as the strange bedfellow slowly turned around, opened his eyes, saw her watching him, frowned to himself in confusion, closed his eyes and shook his head, opened them again, frowned further…

“Who the devil are you?” he asked, his voice thick and husky. “And what are you doing in my room?”

Her mouth hung open in a way that she imagined made her look like a fish trying to breathe on dry land.

“Well?” He sat up and scowled at her. “Speak, woman! Or do you make a habit of sneaking into men’s rooms as they try and slumber?”

“I… I… I…” she stammered stupidly.

Selina’s mind raced as she tried to piece together how this could have happened. The previous evening, her mother had thrown a house party and invited every eligible bachelor in London to attend. The goal was to acquaint them with Selina in the hopes that one might take an interest and court her this Season. Selina could remember meeting many decent fellows, drinking plenty of wine, and then… that was where things turned fuzzy.

“Oh, great, she’s simple,” the man groaned and rubbed his eyes. “And I have a splitting headache—what was in that wine? Make yourself useful, will you, and fetch me a glass of water. And be quick about it.”

He did not recognize her, mistaking her for a maid. Selina suspected that his hangover was to blame, for his sweat-drenched skin and sunken eyes suggested that he was in a similar state to her own. A shame then that she recognized him… oh, how she did.

His name was Edmund Seymour, the younger brother of Benedict Seymour, the Duke of Northwick. Vague memories of speaking to the man last night flashed through her mind, but they were blurry and sporadic and impossible to piece together. As was any sense of how the two had ended up in bed together.

How much did I drink last night?

“Well?” he grunted as he massaged his temples. “Now would be preferable.”

Selina almost snapped at him, for he was not a very nice gentleman, and ordinarily, she would not stand for such rudeness. But there was nothing ordinary about this situation.

“Y-Yes,” she stammered stupidly instead. “I will be right back.”

It didn’t matter how this had happened. All that did matter was that nobody found out. For if someone did…

Selina spun about quickly, intending to sprint out of the room and never look back. She barely took a single step before Lord Edmund spoke again.

“Wait a minute,” he called. “What are you wearing?”

“S-Sorry?” She stiffened with her back to him, refusing to turn back.

“Why are you dressed like that? Did you—Did we—Oh no. Edmund,” he chastised himself. “What were you thinking? And with the help! Urgh, this is just what I need.”

It was stupid. And Selina knew that she should have just ignored it and bolted from the room as if her life depended on it. But his denouncement of her stung her pride.

“I will have you know that I am not a maid!” She spun back and put her hands on her hips. “And despite what the situation might suggest, I can assure you that nothing untoward happened.”

His mouth dropped open. “Miss Gouldsmith!”

“Good morning,” she drawled, feeling strangely triumphant. “Look who has finally caught up.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“I might ask you the same question.”

“Me? This is not my doing. You are the one who?—”

“Who what?”

His lip curled. “Based on what I know about you, Miss Gouldsmith, I should not be surprised. Let me guess—you snuck into my room after I had fallen asleep, hoping to trick me. Or trap me, more like.”

“How dare you!”

“I know your past,” he continued rudely. “My brother warned me of it. I just wish I had listened. And locked the door!”

“My past?” she seethed. “That is rich, coming from a rake like you.”

“Better a rake than a spinster.”

The nerve of this brute!

Selina was vaguely aware of Lord Edmund’s colorful reputation, a true philander who loved women almost as much as he loved the drink. He was a few years older than her, classically handsome but a little boyish for his age, and most certainly not her type.

“You wish for proof that I had nothing to do with this?” Selina snapped.

“How about it never having happened at all?”

“Oh! You are such a…” She shook with rage and might have leveled more hostility in his direction, but now that she had assessed the situation slightly, the danger inherent in what had happened was becoming more apparent.

What was more, the potential consequences if they were caught.

“How is this for proof!” She widened her eyes at him in fury, spun around, and marched toward the door. And she might have stormed through it too, was it not for what happened next.

“Edmund!” a deep male voice called from the other side. “Are you awake?”

“Oh no!” Edmund gasped, pulling at his bed sheets as if he meant to cover himself. “My brother.”

“Your brother! But he was not here last night!”

“Well observed,” Lord Edmund groaned. “This ought to be painful. And then some.”

There was nothing she could do. Frozen halfway across the room, Selina stared stupidly ahead as the door flew open and in walked perhaps the most terrifying man that she had ever seen—the Duke of Northwick.

She gasped at the sight of him.

It was not his size and indomitable prowess that did it, the way his mere presence filled the room as if it was not built to house men of his stature. Nor was it the sense of command that radiated from his being, born from living in a world where he was not used to being told no.

The way she stared at him, the way her mouth hung open, and the way her heart began to race… that was because of his scars. They crisscrossed the right side of his face. Hideous, to be sure. His skin was mangled from brow to chin, the scars snaking down his neck and vanishing beneath his collar.

He is a monster…

“Edmund…” The Duke took in the scene and groaned to himself. “I thought we had spoken about this.”

“Brother!” Lord Edmund squeaked as he pulled the sheets up to his chin.

The Duke spared a glance at Selina, barely paying her attention. Like his brother, he most probably thought she was a maid and thus not worth bothering himself with. Which was a good thing, as Selina was still gaping at him.

“What you do in your own time and under your own roof is one thing. But you are a guest here—how do you think Lady Langham would feel if she were to find out that you spent the evening with the help?”

“It was not like that!”

“Oh, was it not?” The Duke turned to Selina, and while she gasped as he fixed his attention on her, thankfully, he did not seem too surprised by her reaction. “Tell me truthfully, did you and my brother sleep together last night?”

Selina could barely look at him. She tried her best, daring to look past the scarring to meet his eyes. But that made things even worse, as beyond the disfigurement she sensed power and strength and anger the likes of which she had never known.

It struck her, and her knees began to tremble. Thus, she tore her eyes away. Her breathing was ragged, and she struggled to keep herself under control.

“Well?” the Duke barked. “Answer me, woman!”

“Brother!” Lord Edmund scrambled to the edge of the bed. “She is not a maid!”

“What?” The Duke spun back. “What do you mean? Who is she, then?”

“Lady Langham’s daughter,” Lord Edmund explained awkwardly, sucking air through his teeth as he spoke. “Miss Selina Gouldsmith…”

“Miss Selina Gouldsmith?” The Duke looked from his brother to Selina and back again. Lord Edmund had hung his head, properly chastised, while Selina continued to avert her gaze. “Oh, no. Edmund… what have you done?”

“Nothing!” Lord Edmund yelped. “She snuck into my room whilst I slept, I swear it.”

The smart thing to do would have been to use this distraction to sneak out and then put as much distance between herself and this ghastly situation as possible. Indeed, Selina very much wanted to escape the Duke, for whenever she dared to glance up and meet his eyes… she became undone. Flushed in the face. A risen heart rate. A sudden nervousness that she told herself was fear, but knew it to not be that.

But Selina never was much for smart decision-making, and Lord Edmund’s effort to blame her made her common sense take a back seat.

“That is a filthy lie!” Her head snapped up, and she glared daggers at him. “I did no such thing.”

“You did!”

“You are the one who likely snuck in while I was sleeping,” she continued angrily. “I can only be thankful that you were too drunk to do anything else.”

“You were the one who?—”

“Quiet!” The Duke turned to face Selina, and this time she did not look away. She tried to meet his eyes, to stand tall and not cower. But just to look at him filled her with fear. A complete and utter feeling of hopelessness because in this man’s presence, she knew she had no power. “Is this the truth?” he asked.

“That your brother is a sneak?” she somehow managed, her voice quivering. “Yes, it is.”

“She is lying!”

“Quiet!” The Duke snapped at his brother without looking at him. He was studying Selina with a sense of curiosity, as if surprised that she was able to look at him without wincing.

Selina felt her body flush as she dared to hold his gaze. But she would not back down, not now, not when her reputation was at stake. And it was because she refused to look away that she sensed the Duke’s surprise… even excitement, as if he could not believe she would do such a thing.

For a moment, perhaps a second or more, he stared at her, and she stared back, refusing to blink as if she was challenging him. A small smile worked its way up the side of his deformed lips, and his eyes flashed daringly, testing her, seeing if she would back away. And she nearly did—her body began to tremble and burn in a way she did not understand.

“Brother!” Lord Edmund huffed, pulling the Duke’s attention away from her.

The moment his eyes were off Selina, she took her first breath, nearly collapsing as her heart pounded furiously in her chest.

“Do not listen to her. This entire thing is clearly some sort of ploy, orchestrated by the Dowager Viscountess.”

“Enough!” the Duke growled at Lord Edmund in a way that Selina suspected was common—a tone that brooked no argument. “Am I expected to believe you?”

“It is the truth!”

The Duke groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Again and again, Edmund. How many times do we have to—” He caught his tongue and took a deep, calming breath. “Put your clothes on, now. We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“We will talk about this later,” he growled further.

Lord Edmund recoiled. “A-Alright. Let me just…” He began to look about the room for his clothes. “Where did I put my shirt?”

“Miss Gouldsmith.” The Duke looked at Selina again, not with the same intensity as before, but still with command. “Although I do not know what has happened here, what I would appreciate more than anything is your discretion.”

“Me?” she stammered stupidly.

“And my brother will do that same. No doubt you are aware of what might be said if…” He gestured to his brother, who was now frantically searching for his clothes. “Whatever it is that the two of you did?—”

“We did nothing!”

“That is neither here nor there.”

“Oh! I do not believe—” Selina caught her tongue, her body shaking. She told herself it was anger that did it, but deep down, she sensed it was something else. “Fine! You wish for discretion? How is this for discretion?”

She widened her eyes at him a final time, curled her lip, and then turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

She took a deep breath the moment she was in the hall. It was as if she was fleeing a furnace, for how hot her body ran. Her mind, too, was frazzled and reeling.

What was that?

It was a natural reaction to her anger, that was all. The accusation. The way the Duke had tried to bully her! So large and intimidating, he clearly thought he could dominate her any way he pleased. Even if she was completely innocent. Even if it was his brother who?—

“Oh!” she yelped.

Being in such a hurry, her body not behaving the way it ought to, Selina suddenly lost her footing, and before she knew what was happening, she plummeted to the ground in a painful heap.

“Miss Gouldsmith?” The Duke strode out of the room. “What happened?”

“I fell,” she groaned, almost to herself. “My head…”

“Can you stand by yourself?”

“I… I think so…” She grimaced as she gingerly made to stand up.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

Without asking permission, the Duke bent down and scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. For a man of his size, that was practically the case.

“Oh!” Selina yelped again as he lifted her into his arms and pressed her to him. “What are you?—”

“Where is your room?” he asked.

“My… my room?” she repeated, her voice cracking.

“Yes,” he said. “Which way?”

In hindsight, the reason he asked such a thing was obvious, and it was only Selina’s hungover state and shock that had her stammering. But that would come later.

For all the fear she had presumably felt earlier, the way he lifted her and carried and held her evoked totally unexpected feelings…

His arms were thick like tree trunks. His chest was meaty and round like a barrel. Selina was utterly helpless in his arms, which elicited excitement in ways that she had never known before and did not have time to contemplate because she was trying far too hard to resist the urge to wrap her arms around his large neck and?—

“Your room?” he prompted angrily. “Which way?”

“My… oh!” Her eyes widened when she realized the reason he was asking the question. Relief flooded her, or was that disappointment? “T-That way.” She pointed to the right.

“We better be quick,” he muttered, taking off.

She was so small in his huge arms. So helpless and powerless, completely at his mercy. Even if she wanted to, she would not have been able to fight him off. And while she should have wanted such a thing, the feel of those arms holding her as she rested against his large chest was a sensation that she relished quietly—and she refused to admit why.

The Duke suddenly came to a halt.

“What is the meaning of this!” Lady Langham stood at the end of the hallway. “Your Grace? Selina!”

“Lady Langham!” The Duke faltered, still holding Selina, seeming to clutch her even tighter to his muscled chest. “Your daughter fell,” he explained. “I was simply carrying her to her room.”

“And the nightgown?” Lady Langham raised an eyebrow at them both. “Need I ask my daughter what she was doing, wandering the halls dressed like this?”

It was a strange thing, but the Dowager Viscountess did not appear as angry as she ought to be. Not happy, yes. But not ropeable, as would have been expected. If anything—and only because Selina knew her mother so well—Lady Langham looked almost pleased… even vindicated.

“This is all perfectly explainable,” the Duke said with far more poise than Selina could fathom. “If you will allow me to?—”

“Brother!” Lord Edmund stepped out of the bedroom with his shirt open, his hands fumbling with his breeches as he pulled them up. “I cannot find my boots, and I—” He came to a grinding halt when he saw Lady Langham standing there.

“I am eagerly awaiting that explanation, Your Grace,” she said. She crossed her arms and looked between the three of them, a smirk working up the side of her face. “Let me see how you spin this!”

Selina’s heart raced as she assessed the situation. Caught being carried by the Duke. Still wearing a nightgown and looking as if she had only just woken up. The Duke’s half-naked brother coming out of the bedroom, stunned into silence as he realized what was happening.

Oh no… Please, God, no.

“Well!” the Dowager Viscountess snapped.

“My brother and your daughter…” The Duke’s body stiffened, and his jaw set determinedly. “There has been a slight misunderstanding, I am afraid. But they assured me that nothing untoward happened.”

“ I will tell you what happened! Your brother seduced my daughter! Got her good and drunk and lured her into his room?—”

“That’s a lie!” Lord Edmund cried.

“Quiet!” the Duke snarled.

“He speaks the truth,” Selina implored. “Mother, please, this is not…” she trailed off as she realized how futile her argument was, especially considering the fact that she was still in the Duke’s arms.

“This is an outrage!” her mother exclaimed. “Your Grace, what do you have to say about this?!”

The Duke sucked air through his teeth, and despite the calamity of the situation, Selina was surprised at how calm he was—his heart rate was slow, and his chest rose and fell steadily.

“My brother has erred,” he relented. “And as far as I can see, there is but one solution.”

“I am listening.”

The Duke turned to his brother and shook his head in disappointment. “Lady Langham, I propose that my brother marry your daughter without delay.”

“What?” Selina tried to wriggle free, although she doubted the Duke so much as felt it. “Mother, no! Do not listen?—”

“I accept,” Lady Langham said quickly.

“What? Brother, no!” Lord Edmund cried. “I must protest?—”

“You will do no such thing!” the Duke snapped before fixing his attention back on the Dowager Viscountess. “There is to be a ball tonight, yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “One I was expecting the both of you to attend.”

“Attend we will,” the Duke said. He turned back and eyed his brother warningly, before once again looking at the Dowager Viscountess. “At which point Lord Edmund will make the necessary announcement. If that is agreeable with you.”

“Mother!” Selina cried in protest as the reality of the situation slowly sank in… and slipped away.

“Very agreeable.” Her mother nodded. “Tonight, it shall be done!”

Lord Edmund groaned.

Selina opened her mouth to protest when she caught sight of the smirk on her mother’s face, the way her eyes flashed with triumph. And that was when she understood what had really happened here today.

This wasn’t an accident at all, but planned! It seemed that Selina’s eagerness to find a husband paled in comparison to her mother’s.