Chapter 1

It was not fair. It certainly was not right, and as she paced in the drawing room, Felicity Pike twirled a strand of brown hair round and round the tip of her finger over and over again, as though the repeated action would somehow provide salvation from the horrific situation she'd been caught in.

"Felicity, darling, you must stop that." Phoebe Pike's voice was soft and tired as she spoke to her daughter after a long silence, and Felicity paused to look directly at the woman.

Phoebe shifted in her seat and glanced down at her hands, which lay neatly folded on her lap. When she looked up at her daughter once more, her mouth was curled in a sad smile. Felicity glanced at her mother, then looked away again. She could feel the irritation building in her heart, but she pushed it down with a great amount of effort.

"It does not help you much to get angry with us, Felicity," her mother claimed. "We did not mean for any of this to happen."

Felicity's heart ached at this. "Yes, Mother."

Phoebe sighed. "You are too serious, my child. It is all right to allow life to surprise you."

Despite the urge to lash out, Felicity merely nodded.

"If only I had a son," Phoebe lamented softly. "He'd have been able to take over the business, help your father with the loans—" She suddenly seemed to realize what she'd said, and she covered her mouth with her hands, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

"I apologize, darling child," she said now as her eyes followed her daughter's every movement. "But no amount of pacing—or twirling—will change the situation."

Felicity pursed her lips and blew out air in a huff before taking a seat. She watched her mother quietly for a few quiet moments, then nodded. "You are right, Mother. No amount of pacing will change the fact that I have to marry a stranger."

Phoebe merely nodded, and Felicity looked away, her lips pursed.

"Oh, not merely a marriage either," Felicity added, a scowl forming on her delicate features. "An advantageous marriage. It has to be someone with the right amount of money, doesn't it?"

"Felicity." Phoebe's voice was gentle, though it held a note of accusation. "Do not be indelicate, child. That is not how we raised you."

Felicity merely nodded, though rage burned through her. Truth be told, her parents, lovely as they were, had not exactly done much to raise her. Felicity resisted the urge to scoff audibly, choosing to twirl hair around her finger once again.

"It is a tragic situation," Phoebe admitted. "And I do know that it is not entirely fair to you, darling."

Felicity nodded at this and waited for her mother to continue.

"The coffers are empty, Felicity," Phoebe said, a note of desperation in her voice. "The business is failing, and this… it's not merely for you or us. It is for Tabitha, too."

"I know, Mother."

Felicity smiled, though it was strained.

Tabitha, the name echoed with every beat of her heart.

You are doing this for Tabitha.

"He will be here soon!" Phoebe dared to sound excited at this.

Tears burned in Felicity's eyes. She was willing to make the sacrifice, but that did not make her happy about it—and her mother sounded far too happy about the man who was on his way to meet with them.

"Oh, Felicity… Perhaps this will all be for the best. I have heard of the man, and people speak highly of him. He is, by all accounts, a good man—he is taking care of his young brother, I hear. Is that not kind of him?"

Felicity bit down on her lower lip at this. It was typical of her mother to sing the praises of a man for doing the exact same thing she was—taking care of a younger sibling.

"You will be a good wife, Felicity," Phoebe muttered softly. "I am sure the Duke will be a proper husband."

Felicity's heart slammed against her chest at the thought of this man. He could be anyone—and if she were honest, she'd heard the horrid stories the maids had told about women who had to marry awful men. Men who did not hesitate to beat these women into submission, men who made their wives' lives miserable…

What if she had to marry someone like that?

Bile rose in Felicity's throat at the thought. She wondered what he looked like. What he'd be like. She could not help but think of a young lady who had moved in their social circles. The daughter of an earl, Lady Josephine was a kind and gentle woman. One who believed in true love and romance, secretly reading novels by Lady A when no one was aware. When Lady Josephine was to get married, many of the girls in her circle felt rather jealous. She was beautiful, they had whispered. Surely she would find an exceptional match. He'd be handsome, clever, and rich.

They were right. The Baron von Schwartz was rich. But, unfortunately, he was neither clever nor handsome, and most certainly not kind.

A knock at the drawing room door made Phoebe's head snap up, and Felicity shook her head lightly at her mother's eager reaction.

"My Ladies, the Duke of Dawton is here."

Phoebe grinned brightly and gave a quick nod. "Send him in, Jacob."

The messenger nodded once before walking out again, and Felicity rose to her feet. She wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, drawing an irritable look from her mother.

She wanted to apologize, but she refrained from doing so. After all, what was she supposed to do? Before she could think about it any further, a tall figure appeared in the doorway. It took all Felicity had not to gasp audibly.

"My Ladies, His Grace Aiden Kingsman, the Duke of Dawton."

The messenger's voice was barely audible. Felicity could not look away from the young Duke. To say that he was handsome was not nearly enough to adequately describe the man. He looked as though he was crafted from marble by an expert hand, and she watched him with wide eyes as he moved into the drawing room.

Phoebe spluttered and jumped to her feet eagerly, her eyes searching the Duke's face. "Your Grace!" Her voice was shrill with excitement, and Felicity grimaced at this dramatic display of emotion. Still, she, too, could hardly keep her eyes off him. There was something about him.

As he stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the drawing room, a faded pink scar on the side of his face became visible. Surprisingly, however, the marks on his cheekbone did not take anything away from his handsomeness. In fact, Felicity was rather certain that it made him even more attractive in an odd, almost rugged manner.

A wry smile appeared on his lips when he turned to face her, and her heart jumped the slightest bit. Perhaps it would not be horrid, being married to this man. He was handsome, with the most attractive smile, and there was a trace of kindness in his icy blue eyes.

Perhaps this marriage would not be that bad, Felicity thought, her heart fluttering with something she had not felt since she'd realized her horrid duty—hope.

"Your Grace, we are honored to have you here," Phoebe was saying in a sickly sweet voice, gesturing to Felicity in an exaggerated wave of her arm. "Lady Felicity is a kind-hearted, sweet, clever woman, and she will make a most devoted wife. I am sure with time, the pair of you will become quite fond of one another."

"Thank you, Lady Pike." His deep voice reverberated through the room, sending Felicity's heart aflutter. The sound had a gravelly lilt to it. "I must ensure that you understand what it is I am looking for."

Phoebe smiled at this, but Felicity did not. Instead, she frowned. There was something rather odd about his tone. She watched silently as he continued speaking.

"I appreciate your belief that Lady Felicity and I will become… fond… of each other, as you say, but you must understand that I am not at all interested in becoming fond of anyone at all. I am not looking for a wife in the traditional sense of the word."

Phoebe's mouth opened and closed at this, and she looked at the man with wide eyes. "What is it that you mean, Your Grace?"

Aiden glanced at Felicity, before looking back at Phoebe stoically. "What I am looking for, My Lady, is a marriage of… convenience. If you will forgive my being rather indelicate."

Phoebe looked at the man as though he had told her that her daughter was not a worthy match. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. "A marriage of convenience? What on earth is it that you mean, Your Grace?"

"I am not quite sure if you've heard, but I'm presently taking care of my little brother. The boy is eleven now."

"I heard something of the sort, Your Grace." Phoebe's voice dripped syrup. "What an absolutely exemplary thing to do—a true kindness, I must say."

Aiden merely responded with a curt nod. "As you can imagine, it is not easy—raising the boy alone."

"Of course, it isn't—" Phoebe started, but Aiden held his hand up to silence her.

"That is what I am looking for. A woman who would be able to help raise the boy. He needs a parental… I mean maternal, of course… a maternal figure."

"A maternal figure?" Felicity shocked herself when she spoke, and the man turned his icy blue gaze towards her. He stared at her blankly for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Indeed, My Lady. I am not looking for a partner or…" His lips curled in distaste. "Or a friend or a wife. I do not wish to have any children, nor do I wish to be the other half of some… ridiculously contrived love story. All I want—nay, need… is a woman who will help raise Marcus. Be a mother to him."

Felicity gasped incredulously at this and shook her head, her eyes wide. "Your Grace, I apologize, but that…" She glanced at her mother, who sat expressionless, then looked back at the Duke. "Is that not the slightest bit unreasonable?" Her voice trembled as she rose to her feet. "Any woman… any man, as well… do we all not desire a caring partnership?"

A muscle jumped in the Duke's jaw, and his icy eyes glided over her coolly. "My Lady, if you do not care for the arrangement, we can stop this from going further. You can look for a partnership or… love…" He said the last word as though it was something distasteful, then shook his head. "And I will find a woman who does not find my demands unreasonable."

For a mad second, Felicity considered telling the man to leave. Then, she looked at her mother. Panic was scrawled over Phoebe's face—her brows furrowed, her mouth turned in a pout, and her eyes pleading silently with her daughter.

"No, Your Grace," Felicity said quietly, her eyes looking down at her hands. "The arrangement is agreeable."

He nodded sternly, and she looked away, tears burning behind her eyelids. She would marry him, for the sake of her family. But she would never like this Duke of Dawton. Never.