He stood.
“We are not done talking, Argyll.”
“Ah, my devoted stepmother. What would you like? To dole out a good spanking?”
Interest stirred in her eyes.
“Not even remotely interested.” Argyll tugged the pull.
“George.”
Confusion peeked through the thick layer of desire in the duchess’s eyes.
She whipped her gaze back at the impressive figure framed in the entrance. No one would call the gentleman overly tall, nor would he be called short, but what he didn’t possess in height, he more than made up for in breadth of muscle. His feature’s heavy. His thick Roman nose hooked at an angle from several past fights.
“See the duchess out. Now.” He turned to his late father’s wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to begin the courtship of my future wife.” Argyll grinned. “Dowager duchess will suit you.”
With the affronted lady’s angry shrieks following, Argyll headed above stairs to make himself presentable as a gentleman.
At least, on the outside.
On the inside, he was rotten to the core.
Chapter 2
The world didn’t seem to agree on much. Really, on anything at all.
Except when it came to two members of the peerage.
People of all ages and ranks concurred—the Duke of Argyll was a specimen of masculine perfection to be adored.
And Daria?
Daria was an oddity, not even worth remarking on.
But on the edge of yet another ballroom—a very familiar place for her—she came to thinkthemstrange.
How else to account for the blatant admiration, awe, and fascination shown the Duke of Argyll?
Handsome as a marble bust of David, he was also, with his affected air, as removed from humanity as the classical statue. Tousled golden hair. A winning chin. Sharp, aquiline noise. Muscled across the broad expanse of his back and strapping shoulders…when most men were soft and sported paunches or padding.
She could close her eyes and draw forth every dashing detail.
Not on account that Daria in any way admired him. To the contrary.
Rather it behooved her to know every last detail about the man who’d be her husband.
Alas, he had no idea of their entwined fates.
But Daria knew.
She’d seen the intersection of their paths.
Just as she’d seen her death. She knew she was next. Her end was near.
Being one of seven sisters of the cursed Kearsleys, she was destined to meet her demise in a tragic way.
The tragedy to precede her end included marriage to the duke.
