Betrothed to the Scarred Duke (Preview)

Chapter One

Cordelia

Spring Masquerade Ball 1818

London

Lady Cordelia Harrington stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, her gloved hands clasped lightly in front of her as she surveyed the glittering sea of masked faces. 

The opulent lights cast a golden glow over the dancers, illuminating the elegantly dressed guests who swayed and laughed with abandon. It was the start of the London Season, and the masquerade ball was the event that would set it all in motion.

Her sister, Lady Felicity Harrington, was a vision, twirling across the dance floor in a gown of vibrant blue, her laughter ringing like a bell as she moved from partner to partner, enjoying every moment of socializing, just as she always did.

Cordelia envied that.

She was never as comfortable as that in a place like this.

She might have been two years older than eighteen-year-old Felicity, but in places like this, she felt like she was the inexperienced one.

Their mother, Lady Amelia Harrington, stood nearby, her eyes alight with pride and hope as she watched Felicity, probably silently choosing which man she preferred for her youngest girl.

Their father, Lord Henry Harrington, the Earl of Westfield, was engaged in conversation with other noblemen. He might have seemed outwardly less interested in what Felicity was doing, but Cordelia did not doubt that he had one eye on her at all times.

Cordelia, as always, lingered on the fringes. Though suitable for such an occasion, her gown was of a more subdued hue. An elegant shade of lavender that was almost plain compared to the vibrant colours and extravagant designs worn by many other ladies. Her mask, too, was simple, adorned with only a few delicate pearls. She preferred it that way. The simplicity suited her, and she felt more at ease without the pressure of standing out in the crowd.

Maybe others referred to her as a ‘wallflower,’ but she did not care. 

Her parents might have wanted more for her, but Cordelia was content. Happier when she could read or study at home. When she did not have to worry about the eyes of the ton upon her.

“Cordelia, my dear.” Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. “Why do you stand here all alone?”

Cordelia smiled softly. “I am merely enjoying the view, Mother. It is a beautiful event.”

Lady Amelia gave her a knowing look. “You should join the festivities, darling. It is the start of the Season, after all. Who knows what opportunities may arise?”

Cordelia nodded, though she remained unconvinced. “Perhaps in a little while.”

Her mother sighed but did not press further. Thankfully, Cordelia had made it obvious over the years that if anyone pushed her too hard, she would retreat immediately.

She moved at her own pace and could not see anything wrong with that.

“Very well,” her mother continued. “But do remember, you are just as deserving of joy and excitement as Felicity.”

With that, Lady Amelia moved away, her refined gown quickly enveloped by the throng of guests. Cordelia let out a small sigh, her gaze drifting back to the dance floor. 

She appreciated her mother’s sentiments but could not shake the feeling that her place was here, at the periphery, watching over her family and ensuring their well-being.

It was then that she felt a presence beside her. One that she did not immediately recognize, which had a chill tearing down her spine.

Turning slightly, she spotted a tall figure dressed in black right beside her, his mask intricate and sombre just like the aura shrouding him. His dark hair fell in waves over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. He inclined his head towards her in greeting.

“Good evening, My Lady,” he said, his voice smooth yet carrying a hint of aloofness. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

Cordelia hesitated, taken aback by the directness of his request. She had not noticed him before, and his sudden appearance felt almost like a ghostly apparition. Nevertheless, she could not find a polite reason to decline.

Plus, her mother’s eyes were likely still upon her, and she did not wish to suffer yet another lecture for rejecting a poor gentleman who had offered her a chance to have fun.

Even if none of this was fun to Cordelia.

“Of course,” she replied, offering her hand.

Cordelia felt a flutter of nerves as she allowed the mysterious man to lead her onto the dance floor. The music swelled around them, a waltz that set her heart racing in time with the rhythm. Her gloved hand rested lightly in his, the other on his shoulder, as they began to move harmoniously with the music.

The sensation of his hand at her waist was steady and reassuring, yet she could not shake the sense of unease that his presence brought. As they glided across the floor, Cordelia dared to glance up at his face, obscured by the intricate mask. His eyes, dark and intense, met hers, and for a moment, she felt a connection that was both unsettling and intriguing.

As they danced, the silence stretched on, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the ballroom. Cordelia felt the weight of the unspoken words between them, unsettling her. She had always believed that a dance was an opportunity for light conversation, a chance to learn a bit about one’s partner. Yet this man, with his dark, enigmatic presence, seemed content to maintain an air of aloofness.

But what could she say?

She racked her brains but could not think of a thing.

Again, she was envious of how easily this seemed to come to Felicity. Why had she not been born with any of her sister’s grace and enthusiasm for getting to know new people?

Why did an intense shyness overcome her as soon as she was faced with a situation like this?

Finally, much to her relief, he was the one who broke the silence.

Although as soon as he spoke, the warm relief Cordelia had been feeling ebbed away.

 “Why do you not convene with the other ladies to judge and giggle at others?” 

His tone was measured, but an edge to his words made Cordelia’s brow furrow.

She was taken aback by the question and the underlying accusation it seemed to carry. 

“Such a question is inappropriate, sir,” she replied, a hint of indignation in her voice. “I do not believe that ladies are judging others. We are here to enjoy the evening and the company.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her as if trying to decipher a complex puzzle. “Forgive me, My Lady,” he said after a moment, though his apology lacked sincerity. “I have observed that many find amusement in the missteps of others at such gatherings.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her mask. “Perhaps some do, but I find no pleasure in such pettiness. I prefer to engage in meaningful conversation and genuine connections.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And yet, here you are, alone on the periphery of the festivities. One might assume that you find the company of your own thoughts more agreeable than that of others.”

Cordelia felt a flush rise to her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. “I choose to observe, sir, because I value understanding those around me before engaging. It is not out of disdain but rather a preference for thoughtful interaction.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and they continued to dance silently for a few more moments. Before, unfortunately, he spoke again.

“You are naive if you believe people are not judged cruelly for their appearance. Society is merciless towards those who do not fit its narrow standards of beauty.”

Cordelia’s initial shock at the harshness of his words quickly gave way to a calm resolve. “I do not place such importance on looks,” she replied firmly. “I find society’s judgements to be not only tiring but also shallow. True worth lies in one’s character and actions, not in their appearance. I am sure that I am not the only person to think so.”

The man seemed to bristle at her words. “It is easy for you to say, hidden behind a mask and a life of privilege. Have you ever been on the receiving end of such cruelty? Have you ever seen how people are treated when they do not meet society’s expectations?”

His agitation was palpable, and Cordelia could sense that this conversation was deeply personal for him. She met his gaze steadily. “I may not have experienced it myself, but that does not mean I am blind to it. I understand that society can be harsh and unkind. But I believe it is all the more important to challenge those superficial judgements, to rise above them.”

He scoffed, though there was a hint of desperation in his voice. “You speak of challenging judgements as if it is an easy task. But the reality is far different. Society does not change easily, and those who do not conform suffer greatly.”

Cordelia’s expression softened, recognizing the pain behind his words. She wished she could understand why this man had chosen her to rant at, but instead of tugging at that thread, she chose kindness instead.

“I never said it was easy. Change is often difficult and slow, but it starts with individuals refusing to accept the status quo. I choose to believe that kindness and understanding can make a difference, even if it is only in small ways.”

The man’s eyes flashed with frustration and admiration. “You are an idealist, My Lady. But perhaps the world needs more people like you, even if I doubt your optimism will prevail against the cruelty of reality.”

Cordelia cocked her head to one side, her voice earnest. “I may be an idealist, but I am also determined. Each of us can influence the world around us, show compassion where there is none, and stand against injustice. Even if the change is slow, it is worth striving for.”

He looked as if he might argue further for a moment, but then he sighed, a weariness settling over him. “You are determined, indeed. Perhaps there is hope in that, though I remain sceptical.” He stepped back, bowing slightly. “I appreciate your perspective, Lady Cordelia. You have given me much to ponder.”

As the music drew to a close, Cordelia’s partner released her hand without a word, offering only a curt bow before turning on his heel and walking away. Cordelia stood there for a moment, taken aback by his abrupt departure. She felt a mixture of annoyance and bewilderment bubbling up inside her.

“How rude,” she muttered under her breath before gathering her composure and leaving the dance floor. Alone. Which was most certainly not the way that it was supposed to happen.

As she approached she could see the curiosity in her eyes. “Cordelia, do you know who you were dancing with?” her mother enquired.

Cordelia sighed, still feeling the sting of the man’s brusqueness. “I do not know his name, Mother. He was quite … enigmatic and not particularly polite.”

Lady Amelia’s eyes widened slightly. “My dear, that was the Duke of Whitestone, Julian Simon.”

Cordelia blinked, the shock evident on her face. “The Duke of Whitestone?” she repeated, incredulity colouring her tone.

“Yes, indeed,” her mother confirmed, nodding. “He is known to be somewhat reclusive and rather critical of society. But I had no idea he could be so …” She searched for the right word. “So ungracious.”

Cordelia’s mind raced. The Duke of Whitestone was a well-known figure, albeit more for his wealth and status than his social appearances. His reclusiveness and critical nature were the subject of much gossip among the ton, but Cordelia had never paid much attention to such rumours. Yet, here she was, having had a bewildering encounter with him.

No wonder it was so strange dancing with him.

She could not help wondering what it all meant …

 

Chapter Two

Julian

Julian manoeuvred desperately through the throng of masked revellers with a singular purpose: to escape this nightmare.

The noise, the laughter, the endless superficial conversations — it all grated on him. He had fulfilled his obligatory appearance at the masquerade ball, and now he sought the solace of solitude once more. He needed to be at his townhouse sooner rather than later.

It was where he was most comfortable, where he was happiest, without any eyes upon him at all.

However, as he made his way to the exit, his mind was far from the cold, calculated retreat he had intended. It was filled with the image of Lady Cordelia Harrington.

The memory of their intense dance lingered, a distraction he could not easily dispel. Julian had singled her out from the moment he saw her standing at the edge of the ballroom, observing rather than participating in the frivolous gossip that surrounded her. 

That alone had marked her as different, as someone worthy of his attention. He admired her quiet demeanour, her refusal to engage in the petty judgements that were so rampant among the ton. However, he had not expected the cascade of emotions that holding her in his arms would awaken within him.

He also had not expected her words to have quite a powerful impact on him.

The strangest thing was she really did seem to mean what she said. She did not say those words to impress him; he could feel them coming from deep within her heart.

She really was the most unique person that he had ever come across.

He was grateful now that he had sought out her name and even more pleased that he had asked her to dance. Even if he was not one for dancing …

Reaching the cool night air outside the ballroom, Julian inhaled deeply, trying to steady his thoughts. Lady Cordelia had been more than just a fleeting curiosity. The grace with which she moved, the intelligence that shone in her eyes, and how she defended her beliefs had all left a profound impression on him. Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, he found himself stirred by her presence in a way he had not been in years.

His initial approach to her had been calculated, almost cynical. He had expected to find another shallow aristocrat hiding behind her mask and engaging in the same idle gossip he despised. But Lady Cordelia had defied his expectations. Her conversation was agreeable and insightful, challenging his preconceived notions with a gentle firmness. She had seen through the veneer of society’s judgements and rejected them outright, something Julian found both surprising and refreshing.

As he walked through the quiet gardens on the way to his carriage, Julian replayed their conversation. Her responses to his provocations had been measured and thoughtful. When he had accused her of naivety regarding society’s cruelty, she had met his challenge head-on, refusing to accept his bleak outlook without question. 

Her words had ignited something within him — a spark of hope, perhaps, or a desire to believe that change was possible.

He had left her abruptly, overwhelmed by the emotions she had stirred. Not just her beauty had captivated him, though she was undeniably lovely with her long dark hair and intellectually seeking eyes. It was her strength, integrity, and how she had made him feel seen and understood. 

For the first time in a long while, Julian yearned for more than the solitude he usually craved.

Reaching a secluded bench, Julian sat down, running a hand through his dark hair. He had thought himself immune to such feelings, having buried them deep after years of disillusionment with the world around him. Yet, in a single evening, Lady Cordelia Harrington had begun to thaw the ice that encased his heart.

Julian knew he could not simply dismiss this as a fleeting infatuation. Something more profound was at play, a connection he felt compelled to explore further. The spark she had ignited within him refused to be extinguished, burning brighter with each passing thought of her.

For now, he would allow himself this moment of reflection. Tomorrow, he would consider his next steps. Julian Simon was not a man to act impulsively. Yet, as he sat in the moonlit garden, he could not help feeling a sense of anticipation, a stirring of something he had long believed lost.

Julian knew that he could not simply dismiss this strange connection, not to himself anyway. There was something undeniable between himself and Lady Cordelia, a bond that he felt even with that strange little interaction they had just shared.

With a sense of quiet resolve, Julian rose from the bench and made his way to his waiting carriage. It was time to leave this ball and everyone excited about the start of the Season. That was not a sensation that Julian would ever be able to feel.

Yet as the carriage pulled away from the grand estate, Julian cast one last glance back at the moonlit garden, where Lady Cordelia’s presence lingered like a beacon in the night. With her image imprinted on his mind and her words echoing in his heart, he knew something had shifted within him. He was unsure what and where it would lead him, but he supposed he was about to find out …

 

Chapter Three

Cordelia

Autumn, 1818

Harrington House

London

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the parlour, casting intricate patterns on the oriental rug. Cordelia sat in her favourite armchair, knitting quietly. 

Her hands moved with practiced ease, the rhythmic click of the needles providing a soothing melody to the gentle murmur of conversation between her mother and her younger sister.

Felicity chatted animatedly about the previous night’s opera with her mother. Cordelia listened with half an ear, content to let her sister’s excitement wash over her. Felicity’s laughter was like a bell, bright and musical, filling the room with a sense of joy.

It was a sweet and tranquil morning that Cordelia was truly enjoying …

“Everyone …” That was until her father burst into the room, barely able to contain himself, a rarity for the usually composed earl. “I have just received the most astonishing letter.”

Cordelia looked up from her knitting, curiosity piqued. Felicity and Lady Amelia both turned their attention to him, sensing the moment’s importance.

“What is it, Father?” Felicity asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

Lord Henry cleared his throat, unfolding the letter with deliberate care. “This letter is from the Duke of Whitestone, Julian Simon,” he began, his gaze settling on Cordelia. “He has asked for Cordelia’s hand in marriage.”

A stunned silence fell over the room. Cordelia felt her heart skip a beat, her hands freezing mid-stitch. She looked at her father, then at her mother and sister, trying to comprehend the magnitude of his words. Unexpected words that she never expected to hear.

“The Duke of Whitestone?” Lady Amelia echoed, her voice filled with surprise and confusion. “But how? Why?”

Lord Henry smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at Cordelia. “It appears that our Cordelia made quite an impression on the duke during the first masquerade ball of the Season. He writes of her grace, intelligence, and her strength of character. He believes she would make an excellent duchess.”

Cordelia’s mind raced, replaying her brief yet intense encounter with the duke. She remembered how he looked at her, the depth of emotion in his eyes, and their passionate conversation. She had thought him brusque, even rude, but there had been something more, a connection that had ignited a spark within her.

“But, Father,” Cordelia began, her voice trembling slightly, “I hardly know him. And he, me. He was cold, rude, and quiet, too.”

Her mother shot her a sympathetic look. “First impressions can be misleading, my dear. Perhaps there is more to the duke than you experienced that evening.”

Lord Henry nodded, his expression thoughtful. “The duke’s letter suggests he sees qualities in you that he admires, Cordelia. And he has expressed a desire to get to know you better. This may well be a great opportunity for both of you.”

Cordelia felt mixed emotions swirling within her — apprehension, curiosity, and an unexpected flicker of excitement at this unexpected news. This was not something that she ever expected to happen.

The Duke of Whitestone was a man shrouded in mystery, and while her initial encounter with him had been far from pleasant, there had been something in his eyes, a depth of feeling that had intrigued her.

“The duke is currently in London,” her father continued, “but he will soon return to his manor in Yorkshire. He wishes to call upon you before he departs if you are interested in accepting his proposal.

Cordelia took a deep breath, her mind racing. The idea of a courtship with the duke was daunting, but the opportunity to uncover the man behind the mask, to see if there was indeed a connection between them, was compelling.

As the news settled in, Felicity scurried to Cordelia’s side, her eyes wide with earnest plea. “Cordelia, you must at least meet with the duke. Give him a chance. For all we know, he might surprise you.”

Cordelia looked into her sister’s hopeful eyes and felt a pang of guilt. Felicity’s happiness was so vibrant and alive, and Cordelia knew her reluctance was a shadow over it. She sighed, the weight of her inner struggle pressing down on her.

She had never been a romantic. Practical and reserved, Cordelia had always dreamed of a comfortable home, a husband who respected her, and a life of quiet stability. 

However, her parents’ growing financial struggles only intensified the pressure to find a suitable match, especially when she learned that her beloved younger sister had fallen in love with Baron Robert Nord. Felicity could not marry until Cordelia was betrothed, a traditional but cruel constraint that matched her sister’s happiness to Cordelia’s fate.

Reflecting on this, Cordelia felt a deep sense of responsibility. Her own desires seemed insignificant compared to the needs of her family. She hesitated, the decision heavy on her heart. But she knew what she had to do. Her family’s well-being, their honour, and her sister’s future depended on her making the right choice.

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. “I will meet with him,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “It is my duty to our family.”

Felicity’s face lit up with relief and joy. “Oh, thank you, Cordelia! I know you will make the best decision for all of us.”

Their mother, Lady Amelia, smiled approvingly. “You are doing the right thing, my dear. This is an important step, and we are all here to support you.”

Lord Henry smiled, clearly pleased with her decision. “Very well. I will send a reply to the duke, informing him of your willingness to meet. I shall invite him to a dinner here. He will be pleased to hear it, I am sure.”

As her father left the room to pen his response, Cordelia felt anticipation and nervousness building. This courtship could change her life, opening doors to possibilities she had never considered. She looked at her mother and sister, who were watching her with loving and supportive smiles.

“You are brave, Cordelia,” Lady Amelia said softly. “And wise to give this a chance. The duke may have his faults, but I believe he has recognized something special in you.”

Felicity hugged her sister tightly. “I know you will handle this with your usual grace and intelligence. And who knows? Perhaps you will find happiness where you least expect it.”

Cordelia nodded, her mind made up. She watched as her father left the room to send the necessary message to the duke, inviting him for dinner. The gravity of the situation settled on her shoulders, but she held her head high. 

Her father had been desperately trying to find a match for her ever since Felicity met the baron, so it was nice to know she could take that pain off his shoulders. 

“We should find you a dress,” Felicity declared excitedly. “Pick out something nice for you to wear for the dinner. Then you can feel more confident when you see the duke again.”

Cordelia allowed herself a small smile at her sister’s enthusiasm. “Yes, that would be a good idea, Felicity,” she agreed, trying to match her sister’s upbeat tone. “Let us go and see what we can find.”

As they headed towards Cordelia’s room, Felicity chattered about the different gowns they could choose, her excitement infectious. Cordelia felt a bit of her own apprehension lift, replaced by a determination to face whatever lay ahead with grace and dignity.

In the privacy of her room, surrounded by bolts of fabric and shimmering gowns, Cordelia let herself be swept up in the flurry of preparations. Felicity’s hands moved quickly, selecting dresses and holding them up against Cordelia’s frame. They finally settled on an elegant, deep blue gown that illuminated Cordelia’s eyes and complemented her fair skin.

“This one,” Felicity declared, her voice filled with certainty. “You will look stunning in it.”

“Do you think so?” Cordelia asked with a slight frown. “I am not too sure.”

“Oh, I am certain!” Felicity confirmed as she clapped her hands excitedly. “I really have a good feeling about this. And not just because I would like you to find someone to help me out.” She giggled girlishly. “But because I want you to be happy as well. Think about it. You will be a duchess!”

“I cannot imagine being a duchess.” Cordelia laughed, although the sound was a little too strangled to be believable. “It is strange … but please, do not put too much hope in this. He truly did not seem to like me when we first met. I cannot explain why this has happened because we shared one dance, during which time he hardly spoke a word to me. To say that I am utterly baffled by this would be an understatement.”

“But you must have been on his mind enough for him to write to you all this time later. That has to mean something. He must like you more than he let on.”

Cordelia could not imagine it. It had been too strange an encounter for that and too short as well. But there had to be a reason for this communication. She supposed that she was going to have to find out.

***

As Cordelia finally laid her head on the soft pillow, the day’s events swirled in her mind. The rhythm of the house had finally quieted, and the moonlight streamed through her bedroom window. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but her thoughts refused to settle.

The Duke of Whitestone would come to dinner sometime soon. Julian Simon. The very name held a weight of its own, a title steeped in prestige and power. To think that such a man had proposed courtship and potentially marriage was almost beyond her comprehension.

Cordelia had always accepted her place in the world with a certain grace. She knew she was not considered the beauty of the family — that honour belonged to Felicity. With her golden curls, sparkling blue eyes, and laughter, Felicity could light up any room. It was always assumed that Felicity would marry the highest nobleman, securing the family’s future with her charm and beauty.

And Cordelia? 

Cordelia was the quiet one, the dependable one. Plain but agreeable, her mother often said with a combination of affection and pragmatism. Cordelia had been resigned to the idea that she would marry eventually, perhaps to a kind but modest gentleman who would appreciate her calm demeanour and intelligence. She had never entertained dreams of grandeur, never imagined herself in the dazzling role of a duchess. It had never even crossed her mind until now.

Yet, here she was, contemplating a future that seemed plucked from a fairy tale. Julian Simon had seen something in her that had moved him to seek her hand. It was a notion that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

As the night wore on and the house fell into a deeper silence, Cordelia’s thoughts began to slow. She felt a sense of peace settling over her, a calm acceptance of the unknown future. Whatever happened next, she would face it with the same strength and grace Julian mentioned in his letter.

With a deep breath, Cordelia allowed herself to drift into sleep, her dreams filled with possibilities and the whisper of a new beginning. She could only hope this all worked out just as she desired for everyone she loved.

---

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Lilith Bergerac is not who others think she is – certain others, at least. The product of an illicit affair, Lilith arrived in England from France, and ever since, she has struggled to fit in. To make matters worse, she is unexpectedly thrown into a web of lies when her father arranges for her to marry the mysterious Duke of Blackmore. Despite her reluctance and the secrets she must keep, Lilith’s strong spirit and compassionate heart begin to unravel the hardened exterior of the enigmatic duke.

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