The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) Read Free Page A

to an orphaned little girl all those years ago, she hadn’t just become a mother figure in Kate’s life. Aunt Havens had become Kate’s confidante, her conscience. Her best friend.
    She straightened her spine. It was good to see Aunt Havens’ eyes alight with wit and intelligence again. Whatever those moments of confusion had been, they were gone now. Aunt Havens was fine. She would stay fine. The two of them were a force to be reckoned with.
    Starting with this charity soiree.
    Kate clasped her hands to her chest and feasted her eyes upon the remade salon. Most of her precious antiquities were tucked safely into crates inside the back rooms, but a few carefully selected pieces were still on display.
    With any luck, this gala would be a rousing success for Daphne’s charity and Kate’s museum.
    She had spent days and weeks agonizing over which pieces would pique the most interest, which pedestals would display them to best light. If antiquities museums were not the preferred nighttime haunt of the fashionable set, well, Kate would simply have to change their minds.
    The museum doors pushed open and a gaggle of Kate’s artistic friends rushed in, talking excitedly. She rushed forward to greet them.
    It was vital that the struggling artists be here tonight. They had donated most of the paintings, woodwork, and lavish costumes on display for the auction. This was likely to be their one chance to witness a high-priced auction and realize the true value of their maligned and under appreciated talent.
    Yet to make that happen, Kate had to ensure their presence would not send the Upper Ten Thousand fleeing home before a single penny had been raised.
    Although it pained her to do so, she had no choice but to usher each cluster of her lower-class friends up the stairs and out of the way. She told them they were fortunate. The balcony railing would provide them a bird’s eye view of the proceedings.
    They knew the truth. They didn’t argue or take offense.
    Kate’s fingers clenched at her inability to make the beau monde accept talented artists like her friends simply because they were born from the wrong bloodlines.
    Being near enough to spy bald spots atop moneyed roués was as close to equality as any of them ever expected to get. They were happy to be here.
    “Don’t spit on anyone,” she teased before turning toward the winding staircase to intercept the next batch of guests.
    “What about your Frost King?” Miss Nottingworth, a talented seamstress, teased back.
    Kate gave an exaggerated shudder despite the quickening of her pulse. “He’s not mine, thank heavens. I pity the future duchess who spends her wedding night suffering frostbite.”
    She slipped back down the steps to the sound of her friends’ laughter.
    While she did indeed suspect Ravenwood’s touch to be capable of turning anything to ice, the mere thought of lovemaking did not send her a fit of the vapors, as it did so many of the useless debutantes gathering below.
    What Kate dreaded was not the physical act, but marriage itself. The loss of her freedom. The requirement to bear children. The probability she or her child would not survive the ordeal. Kate’s fingers grew cold. The very thought paralyzed her limbs with dread and sent her into a panic.
    Many of her earliest memories were of her Aunt Havens’ drawn face when she’d returned from a midwifery visit only to report one or both of the patients had not survived the birth.
    Uncle Havens had been a parson. Each time, he would comfort his wife as best he could, then prepare for the funerals.
    The sight of tiny coffins even smaller than Kate herself had been more than enough to convince her never to take such a risk.
    As she’d grown older, as the cemeteries became crowded, her resolve had only strengthened. Losing one’s own life would be terrible enough. Losing a child…unthinkable.
    Kate shivered. She might fantasize about knowing passion, but she did not need or want the trappings that