The Duke She Could Not Escape (Preview)

Chapter One

Clara could feel the sadness setting in once the final notes faded away and her piece finished. The silence barely settled before there was applause around the room. There were a few enthusiastic guests, but most of it was polite. Clara fixed a smile on her face as she stood up and curtsied, trying not to catch anyone’s eyes. She didn’t want to know what they were thinking. Especially the Duke of Hawkhaven.

She certainly didn’t want to meet the gaze of her stepmother and half-sister, either. Lady Agatha Whitlow sat off to one side, with her back to the piano sitting straight and her shoulders tense. Clara didn’t need to look at her face to know that she hadn’t enjoyed it. Beside her, Rosamund sat with a sullen expression, hands clasped in her lap with her gaze averted. She wasn’t happy with the fact Clara had been chosen to perform instead of her. Rosamund hated that her half-sister was better than her at the piano.

Clara wished that Rosamund would step up and try to take that from her. She didn’t want to play the piano all the time, but there were moments when it was welcoming. Then Clara could focus on something other than people staring at her, wondering if she was going to be ideal as a wife.

That was all her future was now. Becoming a suitable wife for someone. And Lady Whitlow was determined to make sure that happened. It was evident that she didn’t want Clara around, and things were tense.

She tried not to focus on that. The music was soothing, and Clara let the notes wrap around her like a blanket. It felt warm, even in the flat key, and she felt it seeping into her bones. She closed her eyes, allowing her fingers to find the keys without any problems. Playing the piano was something Clara could do in her sleep; it was comforting when she needed something to cheer her up.

It reminded her of her father. He always urged her to pursue whatever passion she had.

When Clara opened her eyes, she caught sight of her cousin Helena, who was sitting beside Rosamund.

Helena gave her a smile and a nod of approval, indicating her pleasure. Clara could feel a real smile building, and she fought it back. The self-conscience part of her was coming back, and she was getting uncomfortable.

At least Helena was there. Having her cousin and closest friend present was enough to spur her on.

As she turned back to the piano to reach for her music, a door opened behind her and a breeze wafted past her, scattering the music to the floor. A gasp came from somewhere in the crowd, and Clara was sure she heard Lady Whitlow mutter something about her being clumsy. Her cheeks burning, she crouched and began to gather the sheet music together.

“Do you need any help?”

She looked up at the sound of the deep voice. The Duke of Hawkhaven was walking toward her, his stride slow but purposeful.

Clara could feel her heartbeat picking up, her pulse racing in her throat. She’d been aware of the duke since she entered the room, and there had been times when she found her gaze drifting over to him. He was cool and distant with the other guests, but when a smile came out it made Clara’s heart flutter. She couldn’t help but admire the man. He was incredibly handsome and very fine to look at. Tall and broad-shouldered, there was a slight beard growing on his strong-looking jaw. It was not common to look that way—gentlemen mostly preferred to be clean-shaven—but it made the duke look more mysterious. His dark hair was tousled, a few locks falling over his forehead. His steely gray eyes were what kept Clara rooted to the spot. They seemed to swirl with so many emotions and thoughts, hypnotizing her.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed; there were several other young ladies looking at him, albeit a little more subtly than her. Rosamund was one of them.

Now he was coming over to her, and Clara felt like her ability to speak had decided to abandon her.

“Lady Clara?” He frowned at her. “Would you like some help?”

“I…”

What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be like this. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

“I would like that, if you don’t mind, Your Grace?”

“Of course.” He crouched and gathered the sheet music closest to him. “After all, it was my fault that it went everywhere. It is only fair that I help you.”

“Pardon?”

“I stepped out for a moment and then I opened the door to come back in.” He glanced at her. “My apologies, My Lady.”

Clara hadn’t realized he’d stepped out. She’d been aware of him most of the evening, and then the music had taken over. It was surprising she noticed anything when she was wrapped up in her playing.

She could feel her lips tingling as he looked at her mouth before glancing away. She could feel a shiver down her spine, and it made her want to shake herself. She was being foolish. The Duke of Hawkhaven was not admiring her. That would be a farfetched thought.

And yet she couldn’t stop herself from being aware of her own body when he looked at her with his steel-gray eyes. There was an intensity within them that Clara was sure was directed at her. And the warmth she felt from his gaze made her want to swoon.

There was something wrong with her. The duke was not looking for a wife, that much she knew from the gossip around the ton. And yet when he stared at her…

“That was beautiful.”

Clara blinked. Had she missed part of the conversation?

“I beg your pardon?”

“You play beautifully.”

“Oh.” Clara licked her lips. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He tilted his head to one side as he regarded her thoughtfully.

“I did detect a hint of sadness in your music.”

“Oh? But that piece is not meant to be sad.”

“It’s how a person interprets it, and I saw it as a sad piece of music.” The duke got to his feet.
“Most people would not be able to hear it, but I did.”

Clara didn’t know how to answer that. She wasn’t about to divulge to a stranger how she missed her father, how she hated living with her stepmother, who was trying to arrange a marriage for her so she could get her stepdaughter out of the house for good, or how she had a half-sister who resented her presence. She couldn’t even say music was her escape; that would open her up for gossip.

Besides, she was aware of people watching them, and she didn’t want them to start gossiping about her behind her back. She shuffled her music together, pausing when the duke held out his stack.

“Here. And again, forgive me for what I did, Lady Clara.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Clara murmured.

She reached out, and their hands touched. A tingle went up her arm, and Clara felt the warmth spreading over her skin. He’d barely touched her, and yet she felt a connection. Their eyes met, and her heart almost stopped when she saw how piercing his gaze was. It rooted her to the spot, and her tongue seemed to get stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Clara managed to pull her hand back before she embarrassed herself, dropping a quick curtsy. The Duke of Hawkhaven watched her with an intensity that startled her, and Clara couldn’t move from her spot. Then he gave her a small bow and walked away.

“I think he finds you attractive.”

Helena had appeared at her side. Clara felt her cheeks getting warm again as she shuffled her music together.

“Don’t be silly. He was just thinking how much of a clumsy fool I am.”

“I heard him say that you play beautifully, even though it sounded sad,” Helena regarded her. “I am not the only one who heard that. I have never heard anyone turn a joyful sonata into something so sorrowful.”

Clara gritted her teeth, putting the music in order before placing it in the piano seat. She hated that her hands were shaking, and that her cousin had heard the same thing.

“It is just how I interpret it, and I could not bring any joy into the piece.”

“I think Lady Whitlow might be aware of it as well, although she’s still watching the gentlemen in the room.” Helena looked around. “There were plenty of gentlemen watching you, and I could see your stepmother deciding which ones she would be approaching.”

Clara groaned.

“There is nobody here that I would want to be married to. I have no desire to marry someone my stepmother thrusts upon me. If anything, I would much rather marry for love.”

“It is getting to the point where you do not have a choice.” Helena gave her a sympathetic look. “I wish I could help you with it, Clara. I know it is a horrible situation for you.”

“I appreciate your concern, Helena, but there is not much I can do.” Clara managed a smile and a slight laugh. “I am still dreaming of the day where you and I leave and go to a cottage on our own, where we will live together and not have to worry about the men that are being forced to court us.”

Helena smirked back.

“That is a dream that I love. It will be nice, and if Lady Whitlow cannot get you to back down, I will certainly look forward to that. We will be financially secure, so you will not have to worry.”

“Maybe I could be a musician and get paid. That would work.”

“Exactly.”

Clara could feel her spirits lifting. This was a dream she and Helena had been working on for several months, desiring a cottage in the countryside where they would be left alone and could do what they wanted without any societal pressure. She liked the idea of living away from Lady Whitlow and Rosamund. Being around them was exhausting.

And she had a feeling that if Lady Whitlow knew about their plan, she would allow it. Although she wouldn’t be too happy to sign over Clara’s inheritance, which she couldn’t have control of for another four years. But if it meant her stepdaughter left, it would be a small price to pay.

Clara wondered if that would happen sooner rather than later. Because the thought of having peace and happiness in her future was far better than what she had.

If her father was still alive, it would be perfect, but he was gone, so she had to make do with what she had. But not for much longer, if she was lucky.

***

“Clara!”

She turned. Rosamund was hurrying toward her, trying not to bump into the other guests. What got her attention was that her sister looked positively stricken, her eyes filled with tears and her face pale. It wasn’t often she saw her like this, and that immediately got her attention.

“Rosamund? What is wrong?” She caught her sister as she stumbled. “Careful! Whatever is the matter?”

“I… I…” Rosamund gulped. “I have lost Grandma’s pendant.”

Clara’s heart sank. She knew all about the pearl pendant that Lady Whitlow’s mother had passed down to her daughter. Now Rosamund had it, and she liked to wave it in front of Clara’s face to show what she’d been given. She would rarely let it out of her sight.

“Oh, no. Where did you last see it?”

“Before I went out to the garden. I walked around on the terrace to get some air, and then when I came back in…” Rosamund looked panicked. “What am I going to do? It’s getting dark, and I am terrible at looking for things. Mother’s going to be furious, I know it!”

“Calm down, Rosamund.” Clara put her glass on a nearby table and placed her hands on her sister’s arms. “Take a few deep breaths. I will come and help you look for it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I know how much that pendant means to you and your mother. It is best not to ruin a good evening by revealing you lost it. I am sure it will not be too difficult to find.”

Clara didn’t like Rosamund—she hadn’t liked her for years since she started showing her attitude after being under her mother’s thumb for so long—but she still cared. And Rosamund wouldn’t be strong enough to withstand Lady Whitlow’s temper. She looked around.

“I just need to find Helena, and then we shall go and have a look. She just went to the powder room.”

“We don’t have time!” Rosamund grabbed her hand. “We need to look for it now!”

“But…”

“We haven’t got time to search for Helena, not when it’s getting even darker outside. Come on!”

Rosamund began to tug her toward the door, and Clara didn’t have a choice but to go with her. She didn’t want to draw attention to them; that would just get Lady Whitlow’s attention, and they couldn’t afford that.

She couldn’t do much except follow her sister through the house and outside. It was almost dark, the shadows so long they had merged with each other. There was a distinct chill in the air, and Clara wished she’d grabbed her shawl. She shivered, watching as Rosamund went toward the end of the terrace.

“Rosamund, we should find a servant and get some light…”

“I need to find it, Clara!” Rosamund insisted. “If we wait, it will be too dark even with a light. I need to get it now!”

“But Rosamund…”

Clara followed her sister to the end of the terrace, and Rosamund hurried down the steps and around a large bush. Clara didn’t like being outside on her own when it was getting dark. She’d heard of things happening to ladies when they were alone.

“Rosamund, come back.”

But her sister didn’t answer. Clara frowned.

“Rosamund? Are you there?”

Still nothing. Concerned, Clara stepped off the terrace and rounded the bush. But there was no sign of Rosamund. She circled the bush twice, and still no sighting. She was on her own.

What had just happened? Where had Rosamund gone? Had she ventured further into the grounds, leaving Clara on her own?

What was going on? And how was she supposed to search for her stepmother’s heirloom by herself?

She needed to go back inside and find a footman. They would give her some assistance. That was what they should’ve done to begin with.

“Good evening, Lady Clara.”

Clara spun around, her heart lodging in her chest when she saw Lord Quentin Avery emerge from the shadows behind her. How long had he been standing there? Immediately, she began to panic, and she started backing away.

“Lord Avery. What are you doing out here?”

“What do you think? I have been waiting for some alone time with a special young lady.” His eyes glittered as he looked over her. “And you are a special lady, Lady Clara.”

Clara knew she needed to get back inside. Quentin Avery was a known rake, and he was notorious for getting women into trouble. It was at the point just standing next to him was enough to ruin a lady’s reputation. And Clara was already scared of him; Avery had an intensity about him that made him look predatory. Now he was showing it, looking her up and down as if she was a piece of meat he’d been presented with, his eyes practically glowing in the dark. She shuffled away as he stalked toward her.

“Whatever is the matter, My Lady?” he purred. “Are you afraid of being alone with me?”

“Keep away from me, Lord Avery.”

“I don’t think I am going to do that.” His nostrils flared . “I have had my eye on you for a while. You played so beautifully earlier, and I knew I had to have you tonight. Now I have got the chance.”

Clara knew she had to get away. She couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Lord Avery think that she was desirable? He was the last man she would consider anything close to that.

She stumbled back, holding up her hands.

“No.”

“No?”

“Get away. Now!”

Clara didn’t wait for him to reach out and grab her. She turned and ran, stumbling around the terrace until she found another set of steps, almost falling up them in her haste. Where was Rosamund? If she was here, she would be scolding Quentin. While the two of them didn’t get along, Rosamund had a stronger distaste for the rake.

She needed to find someone immediately. And calm down; her chest was tightening in her panic, and she couldn’t breathe properly.

Then she forgot how to breathe completely when she collided with someone on the terrace, almost falling to the ground. Strong arms held her up, and a familiar voice sounded above her head.

“What on earth is going on?”