Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter One
“Idon’t know why I let you convince me to come with you tonight. It’s obvious no one really wants me here.”
Miranda Colfield, daughter of the Earl of Woodfall, glanced toward her dearest friend Rowena with a frown.
“What do you mean no one wants you here? I certainly do,” she assured the young woman.
Rowena grinned at her and rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, but you are actually a decent person with a heart of gold. Not like the rest of these vipers looking for an excuse to strike at one’s throat.”
The two women gazed around the immaculate ballroom in which they stood. They lingered on the edge of the rest of the partygoers, most of whom were the crème de la crème of upper-class British society. Miranda had to admit that a pit of vipers was an apt description of the members of the ton. Sleek and mesmerizing one moment, vicious and venomous the next.
She waved her hand dismissively to Rowena, however, not wishing to make her friend feel any more uncomfortable by agreeing with her that people didn’t want her here. It had taken a fair amount of convincing to get Rowena to even agree to attend this ball with her and her Aunt Pam, their sponsor for the latest Season and acting chaperone. Miranda would be damned if she let a few petty glares and upturned noses scare her friend away again.
“Don’t let any of these snobs make you believe otherwise…you have as much right to be here as they do. You are nobility, after all, just like them.”
Rowena snorted a very unladylike snort. “Oh, please, Miranda dear, I am barely nobility. I am the daughter of a Baron, which is hardly better than a knight in truth. I’m not even granted the title of Lady because I am so far beneath notice. Not to mention that my barely-noble father seems to go out of his way to ensure that all of society scorns and ridicules me.”
That Miranda couldn’t really dispute. Rowena’s father, the Baron of Stoke, was notorious throughout the ton for his gambling and various scandals involving women of ill-repute, among other such unfortunate vices. Miranda had never been able to tell if the man was actually aware of how his behavior affected his daughter, or if he truly just didn’t care. It would be a very sad fact indeed if the latter was the truth, and for Rowena’s sake Miranda hoped the Baron was simply ignorant and not cruel. Miranda reached over and patted her friend on the shoulder.
“Do not think of the Baron tonight,” she told Rowena. “Tonight, I want you to have fun. You look lovelier than almost any lady here, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t attract the attention of a handful of eligible bachelors.”
Rowena giggled. “And what about you, My Dear? You are ravishing as well. Do you not wish to catch the eye of a gentleman or two?”
Miranda chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, it is of no consequence if I draw anyone’s attention. Tonight is about you and your happiness, not me and mine. All focus should be on you.”
Rowena gave Miranda an indulgent look, as if she could see past the woman’s nonchalant façade and into the depths of her true thoughts and feelings. Miranda never wavered in her mask, however. She kept it firmly in place as her friend regarded her.
“I know you are shielding me from what is going on in that complicated mind of yours,” Rowena said at length. “Be it to protect my sensitivities or yours, I can’t say, but few people know you half as well as I do, Miranda.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Miranda shrugged with a stubborn grin.
Rowena arched her dark delicate brow and replied, “If you insist on hiding your thoughts from me, I won’t pry. I know you’ll surrender them eventually, as I am your dearest confidante, but I can tell you are intentionally avoiding the attention of the gentlemen around us, though I assure you such a feat will prove impossible tonight.”
Miranda batted her eyelashes, making sure her appearance was the peak of innocence.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Rowena love, but I do think I heard a compliment buried beneath your words. And for that, I thank you.”
Rowena laughed and Miranda smiled wide, loving the sound of her friend’s mirth. Unfortunately, others around them did not have an apparent appreciation for Rowena’s joy. Summoned by the display, a gaggle of young ladies approached them, each looking haughtier than the last.
“And what in the world do you have to be laughing about?” the lady at the front of the group demanded to know with a smirk. “Apart from your pathetic existence, that is.”
Miranda gritted her teeth and stepped in front of Rowena. “I see you’re still as unpleasant as ever, Lady Abigail,” she snapped. “We didn’t ask for your company, nor do we wish for it. Leave us alone, thank you.”
Lady Abigail arched a brow. “I’ll never understand why you bother to associate yourself with the likes of her, Lady Miranda.” She waved her hand toward Rowena, as if she weren’t standing right there hearing every word she spoke. “Though, I suppose such pathetic rejects ought to stick together rather than mingle with the rest of us in polite society.”
Miranda scowled. “We are neither pathetic nor rejects. You’re the one who seems to need the approval of others to feel good about yourself. If that is not pathetic, I don’t know what is.”
Lady Abigail’s eyes narrowed while her friends murmured excitedly around her, as if anticipating some sort of long-awaited entertainment.
“I will not be spoken to thusly by a woman who couldn’t even keep the man she desired in the same country as her,” Lady Abigail snarled, earning delighted gasps from the cluster of women hanging onto her every word.
Miranda jerked back as though the woman had struck her. Lady Abigail’s words cut through her sharper than she would ever admit out loud.
She fought against the overwhelming emotion that threatened to burst within her at that moment. Miranda knew she needed to come up with some sort of reply, the wittier and more blasé the better, but she couldn’t seem to string a single sentence together. Usually, this was not an issue for her. She’d thought herself long able to deal with the whispers and loaded shows of sympathy, holding her head high and acting as though none of it bothered her.
But Lady Abigail had caught her off guard. Miranda hadn’t been prepared to be reminded of her greatest heartbreak and regret, and so she found herself spiraling and struggling to come up with a defense against the woman’s harsh words. Lady Abigail seemed to realize the turmoil she’d thrust Miranda into, because she began to cackle with her friends as they watched their victim be slowly pulled into the depths of her own despair.
“My goodness, what is the ruckus over here?” a familiar voice suddenly cut through the depressive haze that was settling over Miranda. She blinked and looked around to find her Aunt Pam making her way closer to the confrontation. She came to a stop next to Miranda, but the smile she offered Lady Abigail and her ilk could not be called pleasant.
“Excuse us, Lady Norfstill,” Lady Abigail said in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. “I did not realize our conversation was disturbing anyone.”
“Yes, well, it’s not so much your conversation as your presence in general that is disturbing,” Aunt Pam replied. “But I suppose you can’t help that you’re insufferable, can you, My Dear?”
Miranda choked back a laugh as Lady Abigail stared dumbfounded at Aunt Pam.
“I…I don’t appreciate being spoken to in such a manner, My Lady,” Lady Abigail managed to choke out after several long moments.
Aunt Pam arched a gray eyebrow and said, “Would you prefer I speak slower? Would that make it easier for you to understand me?”
Lady Abigail’s cheeks colored with a furious blush. Clearly, she hadn’t anticipated such animosity from the short, plump dowager who looked as though she couldn’t harm a fly. Aunt Pam always had a way of surprising people, as she was constantly being underestimated.
“You are quite rude,” Lady Abigail blurted, sounding like a petulant child who was being denied her own way.
“And you, My Dear, are dull,” Aunt Pam retorted with a bored tone. She waved her hand at Lady Abigail. “Off with you. Stop bothering my niece and her friend and worry about your own struggles to find a husband.”
Lady Abigail gasped, appearing horrified at the insinuation that she might not easily secure a husband. Of all the things Aunt Pam had said to her, that apparently struck her the deepest. Sticking her nose into the air, Lady Abigail spun on her heel and scurried away, followed closely by the other stupefied ladies.
When they were gone, Miranda turned to her aunt and grinned. “Thank you for that, Aunt Pam. I’m afraid they caught me rather off guard for a moment.”
Aunt Pam reached up to pat Miranda’s cheek affectionately. “Think nothing of it, My Dear. I remember what it was like to be the subject of ridicule by ladies just like those. I won’t stand for it to happen to you as it did me.”
Miranda’s heart swelled with affection for this woman, who’d become so much more to her over the years than just her aunt. She was the closest thing Miranda had left to her late mother, and had stepped in to help guide her into womanhood when there was no one else to do so. Miranda adored her aunt almost as much as she adored her father.
“Why don’t you two go out for some air?” Aunt Pam suggested, lowering her hand and looking between Miranda and Rowena. “Just to be sure tempers have fully cooled.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Lady Norfstill,” Rowena said, slipping her arm through Miranda’s. “A bit of air would do us both a world of good right now.”
Aunt Pam smiled and nodded. “Go on then. I’ll find you in a bit.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Miranda and Rowena hurried from the ballroom to a large balcony that was all but empty, except for a few couples stealing a quiet moment. The two women huddled in the far corner, as far from anyone else as they could and put their heads close together so they could speak without fear of being overheard.
“Are you all right?” Rowena asked as soon as they were certain they were as alone as they could get.
Miranda released a shaky breath. “I must admit, Lady Abigail’s words stung quite a bit more than I would’ve anticipated. They caught me totally off guard.”
“You shouldn’t pay her any mind,” Rowena insisted. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Doesn’t she?” Miranda asked glumly. “She wasn’t wrong in her jabs, really. Benedict did abandon me for the Continent and has yet to return.”
Saying his name out loud caused Miranda’s heart to twist painfully in her chest. She made it a point each and every day to try not to think of Benedict Sutcliffe, son of the late Duke of Morgan, and the man who stole and shattered her heart. Most days she was successful in pretending he didn’t exist. Somedays, though, she couldn’t seem to escape her memories of him. Today was turning out to be one of those days.
“That was his mistake,” Rowena insisted. “His leaving England was in no way your fault, nor was his abandonment. If he didn’t realize the goddess he had in his possession, that is his problem, not yours.”
Miranda managed to give Rowena a sad little grin. “Of course you would say that. You’re My Dearest Friend. You’re biased to me over him.”
Rowena shrugged. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t make my reasoning any less true.”
Miranda shook her head and waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter, really. I hardly care about the man anymore, especially after the reputation he’s gained. They say he frequented every house of ill-repute on the Continent and seduced many a poor young lady out of her virtue. I’ve no desire to associate myself with such a scoundrel.”
“What if he ever returned to England?” Rowena asked, her brow furrowed. “What if you were forced to see him again?”
It was a question that had haunted her ever since Benedict had left her all those years ago. She honestly had no idea how she would react, but she hoped that she would be as cool and collected as she liked to imagine herself to be.
Lifting her chin, she replied, “I wouldn’t even flinch if I were to see him again. I care so little for him, it wouldn’t change a thing for me were he to return. Not a single thing.”
