With the exception of the Duke of Creighton, that was. She shook the thought from her mind. She harbored no ill will toward the man, she never did toward another person, as it was not her nature. Besides, she reminded herself, he had seemingly been through quite enough without receiving any hatred from her.
She was aware that the duke had a scarred face; it was all anyone could talk about the year she debuted, but it had never made her see him any differently other than it made her pity him. It must have been difficult, she reasoned, to have been through whatever it was that caused the disfigurement and still attend events as though nothing were amiss. It was no surprise, then, that he had snapped at her so unkindly.
Which was precisely why she was so wary about meeting him once again. She had not been in society since, and so had heard no more about him. There was no way for her to know whether or not he had changed at all, and had regretted his actions, or if he held steadfast in his beliefs that Jackie had been a problem and was therefore not someone he wished to associate with, or even show any kindness to.
Regardless of whether or not he had changed for the better, however, Jackie had no choice but to continue preparing for their visit. He was, after all, a friend of her father’s. She scoffedat the thought, certain that if he kept company with her father then he could not be of the highest caliber of gentleman.
But it did not matter what she thought, nor what she was frightened of being faced with upon her arrival. She was to see the duke, and spend time with him as any good guest would, and the thought of it made her almost miserable. It was not the norm for a lady to be so upset by the thought of spending time with an unmarried duke, but then it had never been a priority of hers.
“This is to be a wonderful time,” her father said coldly as the three of them boarded their carriage. “You shall be good to the duke if you know what is good for you. Am I quite clear, girls?”
“Yes, Father,” Elizabeth replied, far more enthusiastically than she tended to.
Jackie saw her father eyeing her carefully, a tightening in her throat knowing that she would have to lie to him.
“Yes, Father,” she replied quietly.
Chapter 2
Philip had many regrets about his life, but not noticing the fire sooner was not at the top of the list.
In truth, his biggest regret for years had been the way that he had spoken to a young lady at a ball. He could hardly believe it himself, as it was not unheard of for men, especially those of his standing, to assume the worst in a girl and speak to them accordingly, but it was the case. He had been unkind to her at best, and once he had returned home, he realized just what he had done.
She had been trying to help him, he was sure of it. He had never seen her since that night, meaning it was impossible to help the situation beyond making a few inquiries about a young lady with wild black hair and kind eyes. It was no surprise to him that there were, in actuality, many young ladies in London with those two features, not that they would have been anything likeher.
“You are pacing, Creighton,” Lucien Landerfield, the Viscount Montague, said in a low voice as Philip caught himself and came to a stop.
“It would appear so, yes.”
“Surely you are not still concerned about this?”
“Which part of this should I not be concerned about? Lady Jacqueline and her family are to arrive quite soon, and I have no idea where to start.”
“One typically starts with preparations, and yourself and your mother had that matter handled days ago. Now comes the easier part.”
“There is nothing at all in this that is easy.”
“Of course there is. You are a duke. Charm them.”
Philip could not be as certain as his friend was, no matter how hard he tried. Lucien had always been the same; confident and bright and daring, and Philip wondered at times if he would ever be able to catch up with him once again.
“I certainly caught Lord Pemberton at the worst time,” he replied instead.
“Or the best, if I may. After all, it has benefitted him greatly that you were there. You need not pity him.”
It was true, in part. Philip had been at White’s one evening, only to be faced with a miserable older gentleman who was almost in tears. It was a sorry sight to see, and Philip had not seen a man insuch a state ever since he had looked at his scars for the second time.
The first time, strangely, had not been too terrible. He had thought it temporary, and the marks at least matched the physical pain he was in, but the second time? The pain was gone, yet he was still disfigured. It made no sense, and it was most unfair as far as he was concerned.
Regardless, in a moment of weakness he saw himself in the gentleman and dared to ask him about his condition. He was masked, and had his hair not labeled him as the Duke of Creighton, he might have appeared to be a threat, but the gentleman seemed at ease around him.
His name was Lord Pemberton, and he was in financial straits. He had lost his wife a few years prior, and was at an utter loss in her absence. Incapable of handling matters himself, it had all been left to his eldest to handle, and his youngest daughter had been unable to marry the gentleman she loved more than anything in the world.
One daughter could not marry for he could not afford the dowry, and the other could not because she had the world on her shoulders, even if she was a good woman and would have made the perfect wife otherwise. Philip thought back to when he was set to be a good husband only to be prevented through no fault of his own. He saw one similarity too many between himself and the two young ladies, and it had been his downfall.
“That is what happens when one enters a gambling hall, I suppose,” he mumbled to himself.
“What was that?” Lucien asked.
