The Duke’s Twin Lust by Lorena Owen
Prologue
Melissa jumped, suddenly terrified at the sharp noise, and then stilled herself, listening carefully.
It’s nothing, you fool.
She laughed at nervously and willed herself to relax. She’d been on edge ever since her guardian, Darwin, had left for his card game several hours earlier. Whenever he went out drinking, she knew there would be trouble—and he went out drinking often. There was no one there, though, no other sounds but the heavy beating of her heart. She slid her hand beneath her pillow and felt cool metal beneath her fingertips. She needed to reassure herself that it was still there.
Feeling better, she sat back and gazed out of the window of her bedchamber. The night was deathly still, but the moon was full and bright in the clear sky. There was a glowing halo around it, and it was surrounded by a smattering of stars. Melissa thought it incredibly beautiful, but it was a bittersweet sight. There was so much to the world she hadn’t seen, couldn’t see, especially not since her dear old father, the late Viscount Fairham died. Upon his death two years ago, Darwin Bassford, her father’s distant cousin, inherited the title. Darwin would not allow her out in society until she agreed to marry him. The thought caused an unpleasant shiver to move through her body. Darwin was a brute, plain and simple.
Being only twenty years old, Melissa Atherton was now Darwin's ward, and she hated that fact almost as much as she hated him. She had no other family. She'd never met her poor mother, who died during childbirth. Her father often told her how difficult that decision had been—save his daughter or save his wife—but that he knew he’d made the right choice. Even though Melissa was now out of mourning for him, the thought of moving on with her life stabbed her with pain.
She’d recently found the courage to sort through her father’s belongings, and that’s when she had found the pistol that was now hidden beneath her pillow. She hadn’t wanted to touch it at first. It brought back too many memories of going hunting with her father as a young girl. But then she’d remembered what Darwin threatened, and she’d slipped the pistol into her pocket.
And God forbid I have ever to use it.
She would use it if she had to, though. She knew that with unwavering certainty. If she had to, she would shoot the Viscount. She was strong in both body and spirit, though she was of average height and had a willowy figure that gave others the mistaken impression of weakness. Her hair hung down her back in gentle waves, the color of rich chocolate. It was complemented by her pale olive skin and soft ocean-colored eyes. She had a delicate figure that reminded others of a forest sprite. She was lean but possessed physical strength from years of running wild in the country.
Melissa had always been an independent sort, strong-willed and feisty, which made her guardianship even more difficult to bear. Her father had encouraged her independence and intelligence, but Darwin did his best to suppress those traits. She knew why he wanted to marry her, of course. He didn’t love her or even like her, but he wanted the trust fund her father had set up, the one that Melissa would have access to when she turned one-and-twenty. If she married the money would automatically become the property of her husband.
But that will never happen.
Her head turned sharply to the door when she heard a creaking, and she held her breath to better hear. It was real this time; she knew that with certainty. The floorboards in the hall had always been loose, and now they served as a warning whenever someone approached. No one had any business in that part of the house, not unless they were coming to Melissa’s bedchamber.
She listened carefully. There it was again. Was it Darwin? It had to be; there was no one else. The servants were all instructed to leave her well alone unless serving her meals, and even then, they were not permitted to speak. She missed long conversations with the maids, almost as much as she missed talking to her neighbors.
Melissa swallowed back her fear, trying to slow her breathing. She sat on the bed with her legs curled under her lazily, but her body was taut, tense, as she listened to the creaking. Her fingers caressed the butt of the pistol once more. Its presence easing her a bit. She had protection,a weapon. She did not need to be frightened.
She heard a clink as a key slid into the lock, and she wrapped her fingers around the metal, clutching it tightly. The key turned. She held her breath, waiting. Praying that it wasn’t Darwin outside the door, ready to enter. He would be drunk, of that she was sure, and that was bad.
When the door finally swung open, it slammed against the wall, and Darwin staggered in, holding a candle aloft. Melissa’s hand tightened further around the pistol, but she trained her expression to one of calm innocence as he leered at her. She would only use the gun in an emergency; she promised herself that.
“You’re still awake,” he slurred, the stench of stale whisky coming off him in waves and hitting her even from across the room. “Good. We need to talk.”
“We do?” she asked in a soft voice intended to placate him.
Darwin sucked on his teeth and looked her up and down as if she were a prized broodmare. Melissa suppressed a shudder. He was an ugly man, both inside and out. At nine-and-thirty years old, Darwin looked more like fifty. His skin was sallow and prematurely wrinkled and always stank of sweat and cigar smoke, and whenever he spoke, the air was filled with a fetid odor.
He was a short man with graying hair and a chin that was forever covered in unattractive stubble. His waistcoats were always stretched too tight over his protruding belly. And although he feigned the air of a proper gentleman, he never achieved it in dress, word, or deed. He'd been a poor dissolute wastrel before inheriting the title, and he couldn't believe his luck when the Viscount died, leaving him the estate.
But most of the unentailed money had been left to Melissa, leaving Darwin with less ready cash than he anticipated, and she knew that he needed her trust fund, and he would do whatever it took to get it.
“You’re wasting my time, girl,” he sneered. “I gave you more than enough time to mourn; now, you must repay me for looking after you.”
“I never asked for your help. I’m quite capable of looking after myself, thank you very much,” she replied, the sound of her heart thumping in her ears. “And while I appreciate all you have done for me, you have been handsomely rewarded by my father’s wealth.”
“Always so haughty,” he said, laughing cruelly.
He stumbled in his mirth and knocked her silver-backed hairbrush and mirror off the dressing table, upsetting a lamp in the process. Melissa watched wide-eyed. It wasn’t just the disrespect for those treasured things that had once belonged to her mother, but fear for the oil lamp too. He flailed it around as if it was nothing, but it teetered unsteadily and threatened to topple. She jumped from her seat and set it straight. A fire would rip through Fairham Manor in moment, endangering all within. Darwin laughed at her panic, exposing his crooked teeth. She avoided his gaze, suddenly remembering she had let go of the gun. As calmly as she could, she walked back to the bed.
“Is that all you wanted to say?” she asked. She kept her voice sweet, not wanting to incite him, but she would not bow to his will, ever.
Darwin brayed again, throwing his head back as if she’d said the funniest thing. It was the distraction she needed to slide her hand back beneath her pillow and clutch onto the only thing left in the world that offered her comfort and reassurance. She prayed she would not have to reveal it, but at least she had hold of it now.
“I lost my card game,” he said with a shrug. “I need some cheering up.”
“And there were no lightskirts in the club to do that for you?”
Darwin sneered again. “None that would service me for free. You really do think me disgusting, don’t you?”
Melissa remained silent. She wanted to scream yes, to tell him what a pig he was, but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t lie either, so she said nothing and simply stared at him. He let out a humorless laugh and sat on the stool opposite her bed.
“On my way home, I got to thinking,” he said almost wistfully. “You and I are not so different.”
“Really?” she asked. It felt as if her skin was crawling with distaste at his proximity.
“I think we’d make a good match, you and I.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“And yet you refuse to listen. So I’ve come up with a plan.”
Melissa froze. Plan? What sort of plan? She’d so far managed to repel his advances, avoiding his attempts at forcing her into marriage. But Darwin was not a stupid man, and he seemed to come up with more and more ingenious ways of getting her to succumb.
Be strong, Melissa. You do not have to marry him.
“Just imagine,” he said. “What would happen if you disgraced yourself and ended up with child?”
Melissa scoffed at the very idea. “I would never do anything to—”
“What if you ended up with my child in your belly?”
Melissa gasped and shifted further back on the bed, creating distance between them.
“Oh?” He feigned surprise. “You don’t seem as though you like that idea.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I do not.”
He shrugged and got off the stool, turning as if to go. But then he raised a finger in the air and turned back, looking at her questioningly. “There is just one thing, though,” he said as he loomed over her.
“What?” She asked, her breath hitching with trepidation.
Please go away. Please go away.
“You do not have a choice. When I get you with child, you will have no choice but to marry me.”
He took a step forward, his hands raised, ready to grasp hold of her. Melissa scrambled backward, gasping in fear, and then she remembered the pistol already in her hand. With a renewed confidence, she pulled it out and held it steady, her gaze unwavering and her breath even. Darwin was clearly shocked by the turn of events. He threw his hands up in submission and stumbled back a bit, but his surprise only lasted a matter of seconds. He laughed sardonically, shaking his head at the very notion of the little mouse pulling the trigger, though he still didn’t lower his arms.
“My, my, little Melissa, where did you get that? You’re a big bad girl now, eh? Trying to frighten me away.”
“Stay away from me,” she said.
“Or what?” he asked, mocking her with his tone. “Is little Melissa going to shoot me? Her loving and protective guardian? The only family she has left?”
“You’re no family of mine,” she snarled. “And you never will be. Don’t come any closer.”
He chuckled again, and the sound of it grated on Melissa. How she detested his laugh. “It was a nice try,” he said. “But we both know you wouldn't dare shoot me. I'd wager you've never fired a gun in your life.”
Melissa closed her eyes and allowed herself to go back to the times she went hunting with her father, his words ringing in her ears.
Stay calm. Don’t think about it. Let your intuition guide you.
When Darwin moved to her again, she locked her arms into place, blocking out the sound of his laughter and aimed.
“That is where you are wrong,” she said before she pulled the trigger.
Darwin let out an agonizing yelp. Melissa studied him, a little shocked that she had actually done it. She pursed her lips; her aim had been a little off. Darwin fell to the floor desperately clutching the leg she'd shot, a pool of rich scarlet blood spreading around him.