He had accepted every invitation sent to him, determined to establish his presence in Society. To secure the connections and influence necessary to properly manage his estates and protect his people.
But perhaps he had underestimated the difficulty of the campaign.
Gregory pulled a book from the shelf at random and settled into a leather chair near the fire. The words blurred before his eyes. He was not truly reading; he was simply breathing, simply existing in a space where he was not being watched and judged and found wanting.
"You are not good enough,"his father's voice echoed from memory."You will never be good enough."
Gregory's hands tightened on the book. His father had been wrong about many things. His father was dead, had been dead for fourteen years, and Gregory would not let a ghost determine his future.
He had watched that man fall. Had heard the terrible crack of his skull against the stone floor. The locals had called it an accident, had seen the bruises on his mother's arms and known the truth of what kind of man his father had been.
But Gregory knew the rage that had filled him in that moment. The desire to make it stop.
And he knew, with cold certainty, that he could never allow himself to lose control like that again. Could never allow himself to feel too much, to want too much, to need too much.
Which meant marriage—true marriage, the kind built on affection and regard—was impossible. He would not risk becoming his father.
But he needed a wife. Someone who could navigate this world he did not understand. Someone who could translate the language of fans and teach him the steps to this elaborate dance.
A marriage of convenience, then. Practical. Businesslike. Safe.
He just needed to find a woman who would accept such terms.
Chapter Three
"Have you heard? The new Duke of Everleigh is here!"
Anthea looked up from her lemonade to find Cassandra practically vibrating with excitement as she joined their small group. Her friend's eyes were bright with the particular gleam that indicated she was bursting with gossip, and Anthea felt her own lips curve into a reluctant smile.
"Good evening to you as well, Cassandra," she said dryly. "How lovely that you could join us."
"Oh, hush," Cassandra said, waving a dismissive hand. "This is far too important for pleasantries. The Duke of Everleigh is actually in attendance! At Sybil's ball!"
"Itismy ball," Sybil pointed out mildly, her own expression amused. "I should hope to know who accepted my invitations."
Sybil, the Duchess of Vestiaire now, had been one of Anthea's dearest friends since childhood. She was also one of the few people who knew, or at least suspected the truth about what had happened three years ago. The reason she vowed to never wed. More importantly, she was one of the few hostesses who still included Anthea on her guest lists despite the whispers that followed her.
"Yes, but you did not tell us he would actually come," Cassandra accused. "The man has accepted every invitation sent to him, apparently. Every single one! Can you imagine?"
"How... thorough of him," Anthea said, taking a sip of her lemonade. Beside her, Veronica remained quiet, her eyes scanning the ballroom with the wariness of a doe in hunting season.
"Thorough?" Cassandra laughed. "It is extraordinary! No one does that. Especially not a duke. They are far too important to attend every ball and soirée."
"Perhaps he is attempting to establish himself in Society," Sybil suggested reasonably. "He has only recently inherited, has he not?"
"Yes, and therein lies the scandal," Cassandra said, leaning in conspiratorially. "They say he is a brute. An absolute beast. Big and wild and completely uncivilized."
Anthea rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Cassandra, you cannot believe every bit of gossip you hear."
"But it is not merely gossip," Cassandra protested. "Everyone is saying so. Lady Pemberton told me he can barely string two words together. And Lord Fenton said he has the manners of a common soldier."
"He was a soldier," Sybil interjected. "Though an uncommonly successful one who rose through the ranks on merit rather than purchase."
"You know what I mean," Cassandra said impatiently. "The point is that he actually worked for his position. Can you imagine?"
I can imagine it quite well,Anthea thought.It sounds infinitely more admirable than purchasing one's way to authority.
"That does sound rather impressive," Veronica said softly, speaking for the first time since Cassandra's arrival.
