My Last Duchess
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from Wilde in Love
Chapter One
Storming the Castle
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
By Eloisa James
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Lindow Castle
Cheshire
October 7, 1766
The Duke of Lindow dropped into a chair behind his library desk, feeling as if he’d taken a sharp blow to the gut. His handtightened into a fist, crumpling the parchment he held, the record of an “Act to dissolve the marriage of Hugo, Duke of Lindow,with Lady Yvette Mordant, and to enable the said Duke to marry again.”
That would be his second marriage, since he had lost his much-beloved wife Marie a decade earlier. His ill-advised marriageto Yvette was over.
A pulse of anger went through him, and he shoved it away. Yvette had fled with her Prussian lover a year ago, leaving behindtheir four children—not to mention Marie’s three and his young ward, Parth—with all the concern of a cat abandoning a litterof kittens.
Hearing voices in the entry, he dropped the document in a drawer just as his twin sister, Lady Knowe, strode into the room.She was dressed for riding, wearing a cream-colored habit in the newest style: a huge collar, a great many buttons on hersky-blue waistcoat, and easily twice as many on the jacket. Her wide-brimmed hat was made of the same sky-blue silk, trimmedwith white fur.
“Did it arrive?” She pulled off her hat and threw it on a chair.
Hugo’s mouth quirked up. “Your wig, Louisa.”
“Bloody hell,” Louisa said crossly. She plucked up her hat and the attached wig, shook off a few pins, and plopped the wigback on top of her head, adjusting it in the glass that hung over the fireplace. “Don’t try to distract me. Prism says thatyou are brooding over the post, which can only mean one thing.”
There was no privacy in a castle, no matter how large.
“I’m a free man.”
His sister came over and gave him a whack on the back. “No rest for the weary, Hugo. You should be on the road to London beforethe end of the week. You need a new duchess—and those children of yours need a mother.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Louisa fell back, hand on her heart, looking as shocked as if he’d declared his intention to retreatto a monastery.
His first wife Marie’s death had torn a hole in Hugo’s chest. He hadn’t been able to summon more than mild affection for hissecond bride, Yvette, and even that had quickly withered in the face of her bottomless need for attention. She had turnedto Count Yaraslov, a man distinguished only by his fatuous smirk and yellow hair.
The last thing he wanted was another discontented woman in his household. “No,” he stated, just managing to stop himself fromgrowling it. “No, I am not taking another duchess.”
His sister shoved over a ledger and perched on his desk. “Feeling bruised?”
“Not particularly.”
“Yvette was a weak-headed ninny, and she’ll make the count’s life hell.”
Hugo had come to the same conclusion; he had been married to Yvette for six years, and fathered four children with her, andhe still hadn’t understood her. Nothing seemed to please her: not him, the title, the castle, the children, nothing.
Even so, she had wanted—she had deserved—more from him.
“She ran off with Yaraslov because I didn’t give a damn,” he said, meeting his sister’s eyes squarely.
Louisa snorted. “Last time I heard, the church hadn’t started handing out dispensations for adultery on the basis of a husband’slack of affection. Who could give a damn about Yvette? I can’t abide a woman who makes an art out of complaining.”
“Her children.”
“Now, there you’re wrong,” his sister said cheerfully, getting up from the desk. “The babes hardly knew what she looked like,and they’ve forgotten her entirely by now. The last time she visited Lindow Castle was two years ago at Yuletide. Did shespend any time in the nursery? No.”
“She was great with child,” Hugo pointed out.
“Other mothers manage to visit their children during confinement. She deposited the newborn with a wet nurse and climbed intoa carriage two days later. About the only thing I can say for Yvette is that she has a constitution like an ox. Six childrenin four—”
“Four children in six years,” Hugo corrected.
Louisa shrugged. “The nursery is so crowded that I lose track. To return to the important point, you have no need for moreoffspring, but you do need a mother for those you already have. If I include Parth in the number, since the boy is now anorphan, you have eight children.”
Hugo nodded. “True.”
“You’re like that old woman who lived in a shoe, except Lindow Castle is a mighty fine shoe. Luckily, you aren’t showing yourage—or, should I say, our age—so you should be able to scoop up a new duchess without a problem,” his twin continued.
“No lady would want to marry a divorced man,” Hugo said, keeping it simple. He was not only divorced—an exceedingly rare statusgranted by an Act of Parliament only in cases of extraordinarily bad behavior—he was jaded, cynical, and completely uninterestedin the flimsy, foolish twaddle that passed for polite conversation.
“I’ll be damned if another wife of mine takes a lover,” he added. “I should have challenged Yaraslov the moment I heard ofit.” The sad truth was that he hadn’t cared enough to duel the man.
“Pshaw, he wasn’t worth it,” Louisa said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Yvette was a hussy. The key is to find a womanwith disdain for the bed. Believe me, London is full of ladies in that frame of mind.”
Hugo groaned. “A lovely prospect for a spouse.”
“You have a fine figure,” Louisa said, surveying him from head to foot. “You’ll need to order a new suit, of course. Thatis pitifully passé. Luckily, I have a length of rose silk that I can donate to the cause.”
Hugo glanced down at his breeches, waistcoat, and coat,