The Dangerous Duke Read Free Page B

are a darling, Aunt.” Fenella flung herself into her aunt’s arms, crying with happiness.
    “Dry your eyes; we’ve got to get you ready,” her aunt said with brisk determination, disentangling herself from Fenella’s grateful embrace. “When will they send for you?”
    Fenella read aloud, “‘My dear Miss Preston, would it be inconvenient to ask you to travel down to Deverell House for a personal interview with me and my son? My carriage will collect you on Friday.’ Friday?” She stared at her aunt in horror. “But that’s only five days away.”
    “All the more reason to make haste,” Aunt Preston said, jamming her bonnet askew on her head and thrusting the money into her reticule. “Come along, Missy. We’ve no time to lose.” She clattered down the stairs with Amber yapping at her heels.
    “Do hurry up, Fenella. Don’t stand there gawking. There’s so much to arrange. And the son is ‘Devil’ Deverell, a devilishly handsome rake. A real ladies’ man I hear. They say he has the Devil’s luck. They call him the dangerous duke.”
    A rake? The dangerous duke? With the terrible nickname “Devil”? This was going to be an impossible situation. Fenella crammed her bonnet onto her unruly curls and ran after her aunt.
    * * * *
    On Friday morning, Fenella was packed and ready, waiting for the Dowager’s carriage to collect her. The indefatigable Mrs. Soames had worked like a Trojan to produce one serviceable travelling suit and several pretty dresses. Fenella bemoaned the fact that the material was not as fine as she would have liked, but a sharp reminder from her aunt that beggars could not be choosers soon silenced her. Two attractive bonnets completed the wardrobe. Aunt Preston insisted on Fenella taking all her luggage on the trip, since she could not possibly imagine her niece being refused for the position.
    Fenella sat in the tiny parlour, absent-mindedly patting Amber’s head. Now that the moment had come, she was not very sure of herself. Perhaps the Dowager was a demanding old crone who would make her life a misery? Perhaps the other servants would take against her?
    Aunt Preston burst into laughter at this fearful confession and pinched Fenella’s wan cheeks, saying, “My dear, you’re such a fetching lass that everyone will love you. Maybe even the ‘Devil’ himself, eh?”
    Devil…what a name. She would just have to keep out of his way. With luck, he would spend all his time in London. Fenella was not exactly sure what rakes did to deserve their bad reputations, but from what she had read, she was positive that fallen women, gambling and horseracing must somehow be part of a rake’s depraved activities.
    All too soon, a carriage drawn by four splendid, matched bays arrived at the neat little house on the outskirts of London, and a solemn-faced, liveried footman was knocking at the door. The neighbours were agog with admiration and curiosity, clustering in their doorways, pointing at the elaborate gold and crimson crest on the side panels of the carriage. Fenella swallowed the huge lump that had mysteriously appeared in her throat, hugged Amber hard while dropping a few surreptitious tears onto the dog’s glossy coat and then clutched her aunt in an embrace.
    “Oh, Aunt, is this the right thing for me to do?” she whispered, gazing up at her aunt’s face.
    Aunt Preston blinked back her own tears and said in a falsely cheerful voice, “Of course it is, my dear. You must get out into the world and meet people. Allying yourself with a grand and powerful family is the best thing for you. You must associate with the right company; perhaps now you’ll be able to meet a nice young man.”
    “Oh, Aunt,” Fenella sobbed, “I don’t want to meet a nice young man.”
    “Tush! Of course you do,” her aunt admonished her. “You are young and beautiful. You cannot stay cooped up in this house with an old woman and her old dog. You’ll write to me and tell me all the exciting things