Chapter 1
Yorkshire England, 1810
Lady Olivia Montague strolled across the parlor, her slippers threatening to wear through the carpet from her constant pacing. She could scarcely believe what was happening. Why now? Why after all this time? For Heaven’s sake, it had been more than fifteen years since they’d last heard from the duke.
What the devil changed his mind? She turned her attention toward her friends, Lady Emma, and Lady Juliet. “I have to find a way out of this farce, and you ladies are going to help me.”
“I fail to see what the problem is,” Emma said from where she sat near the hearth, her violet eyes cool and calm.
Juliet sprang to her feet, pale blond curls bouncing with the movement. “I understand perfectly, but perhaps if you tried to see the situation in a more positive light.”
Olivia turned to peer at her well-meaning friends. Lady Emma Finch and Lady Juliet Gale were both the daughters of Earls and longtime family friends. The three of them had been nearly inseparable throughout the years. Honestly, they were more like sisters than friends. And while Olivia knew the pair meant well, she could not help being cross with them at the moment.
She narrowed her eyes as she replied, “You do not need to understand, and there is nothing positive about this…this…atrocity.”
“Now that is a fine way to describe your pending marriage.” Emma shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together.
Juliet sighed, her shoulder’s rounding a fraction before she perked back up. “What if you were to fall in love with him? That would be a positive outcome.”
Olivia dismissed Juliet’s words even as she spoke them. “I’m not going to fall in love with anyone, least of all him.” Exasperated, she released a breath, then returned to pacing. “I’m not going to marry him.”
The thud of Emma’s fan against the arm of the gold brocade wing chair she sat in drew Olivia’s attention back to her. “You cannot be serious. There’s a betrothal agreement. You’re legally bound. You’d face ruination if you refused.”
“And besides, he’s a duke.” Juliet smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Every woman dreams of being a duchess.”
Olivia could not deny the merits of her friends arguments, but neither did she believe they applied to her. She tossed her head as she turned back to them. “I don’t give a fig what he is, and I don’t want to be a duchess.”
More than a little frustrated, she dropped onto a nearby settee. “All I want is a way out of this. Hells teeth, I don’t know the first thing about the man. I don’t even know what he looks like, and I’m expected to marry him.”
Olivia brought her hand to her forehead and began massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger. Her head pounded, but she did not have time to rest or drink tonics. She had to utilize every moment to find a way to get out of her impending marriage.
Juliet leaned forward, a scowl etching lines around her mouth. “Now you are being unfair. He’s not a complete stranger. You have met him before. You told us as much.”
Olivia dropped her hand to her lap and peered at Juliet. “As I recall, I told you how much I detested him. He was rude, obnoxious, messy, entitled—”
“He was young, a child just like yourself,” Emma interrupted, one side of her lips tilting up in the semblance of a smirk. “Truly, Olivia, you should at least give him a chance.”
Juliet’s expression took on a dreamy quality, all serenity, and joy as she looked at Olivia. “What if he’s grown into a handsome man with exemplary behavior?” She clasped her hands together with barely contained excitement. “What if he arrives and sweeps you right off your feet?”
Olivia shook her head and squeezed her eyes together. “I assure you, that is not going to happen.”
Emma tipped her head up toward the ceiling, almost as though she were praying, then said, “But it could. If only you’d give him a chance.”
Olivia would wager her friend had indeed been lifting a prayer. After all, Emma had always been the most level headed among them. If her parents asked her to wed a gentleman of their choosing, she’d do so without complaint.
Juliet smiled at Emma before returning her attention to Olivia. “She is right, and you know it. A lot can change with the passage of years. How long has it been? Ten, Twelve years?”
“Fifteen,” Olivia forced the word through clenched teeth. Fifteen long years with nary a word from the man. Fifteen years of Olivia believing she’d been forgotten. How the devil did anyone expect her to forget that?
Emma pushed a stray lock of raven-colored hair from her cheek. “The boy you remember has long since grown into a man. I’d wager he has changed a great deal.”
“None of this matters. It’s all beside the point.” Olivia waved her hand in dismissal. “Even if he were handsome and well-mannered it would not negate the fact that he spent the last fifteen years ignoring our betrothal. Neither my family nor myself received any communication from him or his. I’d come to believe myself free.”
“Perhaps he had a good reason?” Juliet said, optimism flashing in her blue gaze.
“You both know that I do not wish to marry anyone…ever. And now,” Olivia released a deep sigh, “now I am enslaved once more. I cannot bear it. I will not. You have to help me.”
Emma clasped Olivia’s hands in hers and offered a reassuring smile. “Then we shall, at least as much as we are able.”
