Chapter 1

"Girls," Esther Summers said dramatically. "What am I ever to do about your father?"

The Countess of Sunton sank into a chair in the drawing room with a sigh. Emmeline bit back a sigh of her own as she glanced up into her mother's pale face and trembling lips.

"What is it?" Aurelia asked, her voice timid.

She put down her embroidery, a frown creasing the milky skin of her complexion. Unlike Emmeline, who had never been a great beauty, Aurelia looked as though she had been born in the sun's smile, blessed with blonde hair like silk, blue eyes the color of a summer morning, and a clear complexion entirely clear of freckles.

In contrast, Emmeline had inherited their father's height, middling brown hair, and hazel eyes. She, to her dismay, had also inherited freckles from, it seemed, neither parent. And no amount of lemon juice would make them go away.

"Well, I asked him which event I should attend between Lady Southend's ball and Lady Norfolk's soiree, and he was quite stern." Her mother sniffled. "Apparently, I ought not to rely on his decision-making all the time, and he would not be attending these events with me."

Emmeline put a leather bookmark in her book and closed it. "Well," she said brightly, "that is hardly so surprising, is it? You know Papa rarely attends events of this kind, and why should he decide which one you'll attend when he will not be there?"

Her mother fidgeted. "It is the role of a husband to make decisions for his wife, dear. You must know that by now, at your age."

Emmeline smiled, her advanced years, in the words of her recently married friend Edith, Lady Newport, were not a sore point. What use did she have for marriage when her family relied on her so utterly?

"I am only one-and-twenty, Mama. Besides, I am sure Papa merely wished you to choose whichever one would make you happiest." She neglected to mention that it was more likely he simply did not care. "Do you have a preference?"

"They are both highly influential ladies, and the ball is on the same night as the soiree. I shall have to pick one." The Countess flicked a handkerchief. "And whoever's event I do not choose will no doubt be cross."

Aurelia looked as though this quandary was a matter of life and death. "Oh no," she said in her soft voice. "Whatever shall we do?"

"No one could expect you to choose Lady Norfolk over Lady Southend," Emmeline said firmly. "Think, Mama. You have been friends with Lady Southend since you were presented together, and I expect it shall be the most popular event. If they choose to feud, that is one thing, but you should not worry yourself over it."

The Countess sighed. "Your father does not understand what I suffer with my nerves," she said, holding out a hand to each of her daughters. "But you, my lovely girls, know how I feel. What would I ever do without you?"

"Oh, Mama," Aurelia said, quite overcome. "I hope you shall never find out."

"I will, one of these days, with that pretty face of yours." The Countess patted Aurelia's hand. "But you must be careful not to marry such a gruff man as your father. I wish I had not. You must be very careful, Aurelia."

Aurelia nodded solemnly. "I will. I will marry for love, I swear it."

Emmeline bit back a sigh. Her father was not so bad at all, and the implication that he was cruel because he did not have time for all his wife's many whims was unfounded. Yes, he could occasionally be blunt and stern, and perhaps even indifferent to his wife, but he was not heartless.

Not to mention that he had been unfailingly kind to her and Aurelia ever since she could remember.

"We shall both marry for love," she said briskly. "You with your beauty, Aurelia, and I shall find a gentleman who cares little for it."

Aurelia laughed, the crease between her eyebrows fading. "You are not plain, Emmy!"

"I am certainly not beautiful, but I make up for it by being an excellent mistress." Emmeline smiled back, relieved her sister had lost the mournful look in her eyes. "And you know, some gentlemen covet a practical lady."

"Emmeline," her mother said, half-laughing. "Do not talk about yourself so."

"Or perhaps I will not marry and I will always keep you company." Emmeline leaned in close to her mother and laid an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "I shall see Aurelia married to a prince who adores her and ensure that this house is always seen to."

Her mother sighed, her thin shoulders sinking. "I should be sorry to see you go, I can admit that. Either of you. Choose your husbands wisely, my dears."

Emmeline winked at Aurelia, who laughed and blushed. She knew her sister was the one likely to make a match, and Emmeline had long since made it her mission to ensure she did not accidentally marry a man who would make her unhappy. Aurelia, like their mother, paired beauty with sensitivity, and she was a timid girl, easily manipulated and convinced of things. What she needed was to find a kind gentleman who would love her for her sweetness and her kindness, and who would provide for her and care for her in the gentle way she required.

Only then would Emmeline allow her to marry.

But at eighteen, Aurelia still had plenty of time in which to find a husband who would suit her.

Emmeline returned to her book and had just begun to get back into it when her father burst into the room. The sight of him was so unexpected that she practically dropped the novel to the floor.

"Papa," she said in surprise. "Good morning. It is early for you to be up."

He glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. "It is past ten, Emmeline. Besides, I have some excellent news, and I cannot wait until dinner."

Unease erupted in Emmeline's stomach. Her father so rarely disturbed their domestic time, preferring to leave for his clubs, occasionally returning in time for dinner before leaving once again in the evening. This was uncharacteristic of him.

"News?" she pressed.

"It concerns you, Aurelia."

"News?" the Countess demanded. "What news could it be that you have not already shared with me? I saw you just a few minutes ago."

"I had not received this letter back then. Let it not be said that I do not provide for you, girls!" He waved said letter in the air, and Emmeline's stomach sank. She gripped a handful of her skirts in her fist.

"What is your news?" she asked again, cautiously this time.

"You recall the Duke of Kant? He inherited the dukedom rather suddenly after the death of his older brother."

"Ah," the Countess sighed. "The late Duke was such a lovely young man. So kind. So merry. Always brought joy to my heart to see him smiling and dancing with all the young ladies, although he never favored one that I saw." She looked affectionately at Emmeline. "I had hoped he would show some interest in you, my love, but it was not to be."

Emmeline blinked. She had seen the late Duke, of course, in town, but she had never had any aspirations in that direction. "You had? Mama, for what reason?"

"Think of the match!" Her mother's face darkened. "But his brother. Do you know, once he returned to England and took the title, we have barely seen him in Society. People are saying he's a recluse. A duke should know his duty the way his brother did."

"That's not all," Emmeline murmured to Aurelia. "Lady Augustine saw him not two weeks ago, and she said he was the rudest man she had ever met. Cold, dismissive and abrupt. For all he's a duke, she said she would want nothing to do with him."

Aurelia turned wide, uncertain eyes on her. "Do you think that's true?"

"Why else would someone say such things about so influential a man?" Emmeline's heart clenched. If her father had come in with news about the Duke, she knew it could not be good. "Why does your news concern Aurelia, Papa?" she asked cautiously.

Her sister was sitting with her hands clasped, looking like the picture of meek innocence, but her cheeks were pale.

"Yes, Sunton," their mother said. Their intimacy had never progressed to the use of first names, and Emmeline had a sudden premonition that this was what would inevitably happen if her sister were forced to marry the Duke of Kant. "I can hardly believe you are on intimate terms with the man. No one has so much as seen him in London."

"Be that as it may, I have been communicating with him through letters. I've learned that he is on the hunt for a wife, and?—"

"On the hunt for a wife?" the Countess exclaimed. "When why have we not seen him at Almack's?"

"Perhaps because he has no taste for Society." The Earl glowered at them all. "Regardless of how he has chosen to go about it, he wants a wife, and I offered him our Aurelia."

Emmeline shook her head.

Aurelia was silent, but her face was white as a sheet now, and her lower lip trembled.

"You offered him Aurelia?" Emmeline repeated. "You can't be serious!"

"And why not?" The Earl's glower silenced his wife's shriek of indignation. "He has done us the honor of accepting, and I see no reason to be upset. It is an excellent match."

Aurelia let out a cry of distress and fainted, slumping onto the sofa. Emmeline fell to her knees beside her sister, tapping her cheek to wake her up.

"Sunton," their mother sobbed, reaching for her smelling salts, which were always within reach wherever she was in the house. "How could you?"

The Earl looked at his family with an expression caught between dismay and irritation. "Pull yourselves together, girls," he snapped.

"Come on now, dearest," Emmeline said to Aurelia and reached out a hand to her mother. "Mama, the smelling salts?" Her fingers closed around the bottle, and she held it under Aurelia's nose until her eyelids fluttered. "There we go," she said, easing her sister into a sitting position.

"Good heavens," her father said, exasperated. "What brought this on? I have found a good match for you, Aurelia."

"Sunton," the Countess said faintly. "Surely you jest."

"Why must you assume it is a joke?" he asked impatiently. "He is in need of a wife, and Aurelia has just begun her first Season. She has a generous dowry and is excessively fair. Any gentleman would be lucky to have her. He is a duke!"

"He is known to be a cold man," the Countess said. "A stern man, and with no notable friends or acquaintances in London. No one knows any more than we do—and what we know is not good, Sunton."

He cannot be allowed to marry my sister.

If there was one point Emmeline was certain about, it was that. "What about the Duke?" she asked. "Has he so much as met her?"

"Well, not yet, but I boasted about her virtues."

Emmeline's nostrils flared. "Which means you mentioned her beauty and talked in great detail about her dowry?"

"Do not criticize me, girl. I am providing for this family. Your mother should be proud."

Under the weight of his gaze, the Countess sniffed heartily. "Indeed, I am grateful you have been thinking of us all."

Emmeline fought the urge to roll her eyes. Following her mother would be no use, so she attempted a different tack.

"Papa," she said coaxingly, "I know how much you treasure us as your daughters, and we are grateful—indeed, we are."

Aurelia made a whimpering sound, and Emmeline stroked her sister's hair, smoothing it gently.

"But Aurelia is just eighteen," she continued after a moment. "And I know you would not wish to force her into a marriage that would make her unhappy. Please consider it."

"I have already considered it." His jaw set in an expression of stubbornness she had come to know well. "And I have given my permission. The Duke will not make her unhappy. Aurelia will be a duchess. Consider that."

Aurelia made another whimpering noise, and Emmeline continued stroking her hair, smoothing it affectionately.

"Hush now," she soothed. "Everything will be well."

The Earl made another impatient noise and left the room, bidding them to "come to their senses with haste." Emmeline generally viewed her father with affection, but today she wanted to shake some sense into him.

"Mama," she said, "can you tend to Aurelia?"

Her mother slumped back in her chair, fluttering her handkerchief ineffectually across her face. "Oh, my nerves," she said. "My poor nerves. Where are my salts? Whatever shall we do, Emmy? You heard your father, and he will not hear otherwise, you know that he will not."

Emmeline set her jaw. "We shall see about that."

Realizing her mother was in no position to help, she rose and tugged on the bell pull, requesting that two maids be sent to tend to Lady Sunton and Lady Aurelia. Then, after offering platitudes she hardly knew she could give, she left the room in search of the Earl.

No doubt he thought he was doing the best thing he could for his family, but the Duke of Kant! Rumors were spreading through London of how disagreeable he was, how rude and sharp and blunt he could be, and her sister would simply curl up and die of misery if she were subjected to such a fate.

Her father had not thought the implications through, but she would make him see.

He had retreated to his study, no doubt intending to while away the time answering letters and seeing to his affairs. Emmeline did not wait for him to invite her in as she pushed open the door.

"Papa," she said. "May I speak with you?"

He was already back at his desk, and he glanced up at her knock. The quill in his hand stilled, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. "Emmeline, I thought the subject of your sister's betrothal was closed."

"Then allow me to open it once more."

"There is nothing more to say on the matter."

"Papa, please." She closed the door behind her. "Surely you must know of his horrible reputation."

"I had thought you of all people knew better than to give consequence to rumor. Have you not endured enough of your own?"

"That I am unmarried? A spinster?" A tiny, humorless smile touched her lips. "That is entirely different. A truth rather than rumor."

"Have you so much as met the man?" he asked, returning to his letter.

"Have you?"

"Not as such, but I will shortly. And I have heard nothing that convinces me he is not a man who will suit your sister. Her beauty will melt even the hardest of hearts."

"The very fact you say that proves you know that he is not a kind man. If he has a hard heart to melt, is he really a man who will make my sister love him?" She stepped forward, hands entwined, lowering her voice into a plea. "Aurelia is young, and she has a delicate sensibility. If she is married to a man who cannot adore her, you know she will suffer."

"Nonsense." Her father waved a dismissive hand. "You are being hysterical."

"Hysterical? For defending my sister?"

"I have found her a good match."

"You have condemned her to marry a man whose only defining trait is his despicability. You cannot allow Aurelia to marry him."

A knock sounded at the door. "My Lord," the butler said. "The Duke of Kant is here to see you."