Page 7 of Raising the Duke’s Unexpected Twins

“But still, whether I am harsh or not, those children need caring for, and to my dismay, a husband is a way to do that financially. He must simply be a kind man; I do not have to love him.”

“While I admire your sense, Cord, I do cringe at that prospect. I don’t think you are the sort of woman who desires a match of that sort. How very…dull,” Emma frowned, and Cordelia did not attempt to argue with her.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what I would have wanted in the past. All that matters is Timothy and Olivia. Many people marry for purposes other than love. It is the way of the world, Em, and I suppose it is about time I understood that.”

“I hate to hear you talk so, sister. Perhaps there is simply another solution. Like we told you, our dowries can be used.”

“No — I will not jeopardize what future you have left to you, Em. There is still hope for you.” She smiled, but Emma frowned back at her.

“There is hope for you too. We just need a little patience.”

“There isn’t time!” Cordelia said far too loudly. Calming herself, she took another sip and continued. “Please, Em, do not worry about me. All will be well. We should turn our thoughts to our sister.”

Danae was dancing with a handsome young baronet. She was laughing, smiling, looking beautiful, as she so often did.

“He looks quite besotted,” Cordelia said.

“They all look besotted,” Emma tutted. “She has not the good sense to keep herself in check. She gives out smiles and laughs to every young man that comes along, and then they trail after her like desperate puppies.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrows at her usually quiet, sensible sister. “I have never heard you make such a speech, Em. Have the two of you argued?”

Emma sighed. “I want her only to create a balance. She thinks romance is to be just like the poems of Lord Byron. I tell her it’s nonsense and that she mustn’t toy with young men. She must think sensibly!”

Cordelia and Danae had often argued between them as well; it was the nature of sisters, but she and Emma had always disagreed. They were like black and white, polar opposites in nearly every sense of the word. While Emma was urging patience to Cordelia, suddenly seeking a match, Danae was delighted that Cordelia was finally thinking of finding herself a husband.

“Time will help her. She is only eighteen. You remember what we were like.”

Emma sighed, but she didn’t have a chance to answer before her dance partner approached her for the next set, and Cordelia was glad to see her go.

I am feeling far too gloomy for company.

Feeling like a failure, her eyes roved over the crowd once more. Men glanced her way but only briefly, returning to their drinks or their conversation or to look at any other woman but her. But when she found a man who did not look away, something curled in her belly. He grinned, and Cordelia only lifted a brow in response as she usually did when it came to him.

“Nicholas,” she muttered under her breath, watching with irritation as he moved his way towards her, not breaking eye contact and grinning smugly as if he was pleased with her new, rather difficult situation.

“Ah, Miss Debrett,” he said with a slight bow. “What a pleasure to see you this evening, as always, of course. And looking so lovely. Such a different sort of attire you are wearing.”

“You will have been used to my different attire after my costume at the ba—” she paused, not wanting to bring up the memory of that horrible, horrible night. A look of pain flashed on Nicholas’s face, but it was gone in an instant, smoothed over like butter on bread.

His grin returned. “Yes, well, I know you do appreciate when I remember all of your gowns, my dear, but this one is sticking out especially to me. Perhaps it is because it is fashionably low, giving any man a delightful view of all you have to offer.” Cordelia gasped, taking her hand and pressing it to her chest, where his eyes fell.

He was a rake and yet he’d never dared to speak so before, at least not in front of so many others. His stark blue eyes continued to slide over her dress, and Cordelia was annoyed at the tingle his look gave her. Nicholas Merrick looked at someone as if he gave no other thought to anyone or anything else in that moment. It was rather unnerving, and though she would never admit it, she could very well understand how so many women fell prey to his charms.

He was far too handsome for his own good as well, with cropped dark hair, tall, strong shoulders covered by a perfectly tailored coat, and a layer of stubble on his chin. It might make one look slovenly on another gentleman, but on him, it gave him a dangerous, seductive air. It rather suited his position as the owner of a notorious gambling den, which Cordelia wholeheartedly disapproved of. And his lips⁠—

“Miss Debrett, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words before. At least not in my presence.”

Cordelia blushed deeply, and she looked around at anyone else to see if they had heard him. He was grinning far too widely, and she knew he somehow had guessed at her thoughts.

I must be ill. Nicholas is a cad, no matter how handsome.

“Well, this evening is different to others,” she replied stiffly, crossing her arms.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as he leaned closer to her and whispered, “I see you are attempting to draw the men’s gaze this evening. Do these attempts imply that the shrew is now willing to be tamed?”

Cordelia scowled at him, determined to not let her strange reactions to him show. She was only overtired and stressed and concerned for the future.

“I am in no mood for your games this evening, Your Grace. I have a serious purpose tonight.”