Page 1 of Snowed In with the Jilted Duke

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As Oliver Dalston, the Duke of Kendal, descended the stairs to meet his bride-to-be’s carriage, he could feel the matrimonial noose tightening around his neck.

He had always known this day would come. He and Penelope Montgomery had been promised to each other when they were mere children. So long ago that it had seemed they had all the time in the world before the deed had to be done.

Now their time had run out.

“Have they arrived?”

Oliver turned to see his brother Hugo standing nearby, his posture as ramrod straight as it was on the Royal Navy ships he captained, though he wore civilian clothing. He must have been waiting in the Green Salon with the dowager duchess and heard the commotion of the pending arrival.

“Yes, Teasdale informed me and is gathering the staff. Will you come outside with me?” After all, Hugo had known the Montgomery sisters for as long as he had.

“No need. I shall wait in the salon with the others.”

The front door opened, distracting Oliver, and a cold wind rushed in.

Hugo frowned at the gathering clouds visible even through the small patch of sky revealed by the door.

“I think we may have snow for Christmas.”

“Heaven forfend,” Oliver grumbled, shrugging into the greatcoat a footman held for him. He trudged outside to meet the Montgomerys’ traveling coach as it slowed to a halt, closely followed by a second, larger coach laden with trunks.

The wedding was in three days. Christmas Eve. His whole family was in attendance for both the holiday and the wedding. Penelope must have brought her entire trousseau—all of her belongings, perhaps—with her since she would remain here after the wedding.

As his wife.

Forcing a smile of welcome, Oliver strode to the coach as a footman opened the door and unfolded the stairs. Of course, his bride’s mother emerged first, putting herself forward as always.

“Ah, your grace!” Mrs. Montgomery said archly, extending her hand to him. As the daughter of a baronet, she had married down when she wed an industrialist’s son. She clearly relished her opportunity to move up in society at last.

“How good to see you again. Or may I call you Kendal, since I am soon to be your mama-in-law?”

“As you please, ma’am,” Oliver said, successfully hiding his wince as he bowed.

Penelope, his intended, came next, wrapped in a high-necked blue-violet pelisse that brought out the green of her hazel eyes. A few dark curls escaped from beneath her beplumed traveling bonnet, and she moved with a stiffness that spoke of long hours on the road. She smiled before looking past him towards the front door, stumbling a little on the narrow step of the coach as she quickly looked away again. A footman dove forward to steady her, but Oliver forestalled him, taking her hand and helping her the rest of the way to the ground.

“Welcome, my dear.”

“Thank you, Kendal.” She shook out her skirts and looked around at the bustle created by her arrival. She always seemed to wish to be somewhere other than where she was.

She turned to him with a polite smile. They were always polite to one another.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” he asked.

“Tolerable, thank you.”

A movement at the carriage door drew his attention, and Penelope’s twin sister finally emerged, stopping in the door to look around as well.

Pippa.

They were identical twins, but somehow Pippa had the air of a paid companion, not a sister. She wore yet another of the dull gray gowns she had adopted during Penelope’s illness when she had nursed her sister with a fierce, almost frightening devotion. Pippa had always been the quieter of the twins, but her silence when she was in company now was almost oppressive. In fact, the few times Oliver had visited the family in London during Penelope’s recovery, Pippa had never so much as glanced at him, even when he greeted her.

As though she was avoiding his attention.

He handed Pippa down from the carriage even though she refused to meet his eyes, looking everywhere but at him.

“You could have allowed the footman to help me.”