Taken by the Duke Read Free Page A

doubted himself.
    Then he shook it all away. This was what he had to do. There was no going back. Matilda was not alive to scold him, to laugh with him, and this was his revenge.
    He moved to the door and rang the bell before returning to his chair. He rested his head against the softness and stared at the ceiling above him, clearing his mind of emotion, of physical pain as he did so. Only when the door to the parlor opened did he return his attention to the world around him.
    “Yes, Your Grace?” Sanders asked as he stepped into the room. “What service may I perform?”
    “Have arrangements been made?” Christian asked.
    The butler shifted ever so slightly. “Y-Yes, sir. But—”
    Christian turned toward him sharply. “But?”
    A beat passed between them and finally Sanders swallowed. “My lord, are you entirely certain of this course of action?”
    Christian sat up straighter. Great God, was his servant daring to question him?
    “Know your place, Sanders,” he said, his tone low but firm and quivering with outrage. “Simply because you served my father and even my grandfather does not mean you can question me.”
    He leaned back against the seat again, exhaustion mobbing him suddenly. He lifted a hand and loosely waved it at his butler. “Do it… please . Shut the house down after my departure, and I will see you at Stonehill Gate in Somerset in a few days.”
    Sanders hesitated, but when Christian speared him with a pointed glare, the butler sighed.
    “Yes, Your Grace. Of course. Is that all?”
    “Tell Brinkley I will be up to my chamber in half an hour’s time. Otherwise, that is all.”
    The butler bowed his head. “Good evening, my lord.”
    The servant stepped from the room, shutting the door behind him. Even when he was gone, Christian could feel his disapproval hanging in the room around him. He wanted not to care, but in truth, Sanders was a decent man. He had helped to raise Christian. He did care that the butler now looked at him with concern and a hint of horror that could not be mistaken.
    “It doesn’t matter,” he said to himself as he got up a second time and paced the room, his cane gripped firmly in his hand.
    He looked up at the mirror above the fireplace and sighed. His eyes were so empty, red-rimmed, accentuated with dark shadows. He was but a shell of a man now. A shell of what he had been.
    “Stay the course,” he told that broken person in the mirror. “This is what we must do, what we will do.”
    But the mirror image did not seem to be entirely convinced, and Christian turned away from it to pour himself another drink. Perhaps this time it would make him forget.

Chapter Two
    It had been less than twenty-four hours since Christian’s return to Society, but Ava had thought of little else in the intervening hours. Even if she wished to think of something else, she could not. She had received probably half a dozen notes from “friends” pretending to inquire after her well being in the situation, when really they were fishing for facts to whisper about in corners as they stared at her. She tossed into the fire the latest one from a girl who had mercilessly teased her when they were children and took a deep breath.
    Straightening her shoulders, she strode down the hallway, up the stairs and turned toward her brother’s chambers. Halfway there, she was met by a maid carrying a tray with Liam’s supper. The girl smiled at her, but there was sadness—no, it was pity —in her eyes.
    “Thank you, Gretchen,” Ava said, clenching her teeth against each new humiliation. She took the tray. “I will take care of the rest.”
    The girl looked rather disappointed. Sometimes Ava thought the servants lived for the high drama of her brother’s sequester as much as those in the ton did. She was certain it was a main topic below stairs, at least when the stern housekeeper Mrs. Bunting and their butler Hornby weren’t listening.
    Still, Gretchen bobbed out a curtsey and, with only a