The Duke’s Tempting Widow (Preview)

Prologue

Nine Years Ago

Kitty was right, Lydia should not be there. 

The words of warning seemed years away now instead of only a few hours. If Lydia had been wiser, then perhaps she never would have snuck out of the house in the first place. Father’s wrath was not something to be trifled with. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lydia knew that the consequences of her actions were going to be severe if she were to be found out. 

Lingering somewhere behind Lydia was her ladies’ maid to act as chaperone. A woman old enough to be Lydia’s mother, but the woman was anything but motherly. Rather, she seemed the opposite. Her maid encouraged her to act in ways not conducive to society’s standards. If it weren’t for her influence, Lydia would not have been able to come to the masquerade ball. Father had expressly forbidden it. He claimed that a woman ought not to ever have a reason to deceive a man and that a young lady would be tempting sin to pretend to be something other than herself. 

“Do you have a favorite yet?” Martha, Lydia’s maid, asked with a secret smile. 

Lydia’s face flushed at the implication of the words. “Even if I had decided on a favorite, it is not as if I should know who the gentleman truly is.”

“Sometimes that is part of the fun, is it not?” Martha smirked and extended a hand with wiggling fingers for the glass of wine in Lydia’s hand. “A lady is only young once, and certainly has even fewer opportunities to be as mysterious and alluring as she could possibly wish. It is best if you capitalize on it while you can.”

Lydia laughed softly, as Martha sipped the wine she had just taken from her. 

“It is rather exhilarating, I will admit.”

Lydia reached up to carefully adjust the lace and pearl mask that she wore to obscure her facial features from view as she looked out over the seat of bodies. If she were being honest, this particular ball did have an entirely different mood than the others that she had attended this season. Given that it was her first year in the marriage mart, she had to uphold every one of her father’s very strict opinions on what it means to be a lady. Which left her very little room to have any fun. Even less so when father had given her a list of approved topics of conversation that she was not allowed to deviate from, no matter the circumstances. 

Tonight, however, she could say anything that she wished. She could be anything that she liked. 

She might still be a young girl of eighteen, but she knew her own mind. She knew her ow wants and desires. 

Martha had taken great care in getting her ready for this event tonight. They had carefully chosen pearl accents to pin in her hair and a deep purple lace that matched the plum color of her gown. White satin gloves came up over her elbows, and a hint of rouge on her cheeks was only barely visible under the bottom half of her mask. 

“There is still one more spot open on your dance card, miss, I suggest that you choose carefully.” Martha advised and finished off the glass of wine before starting to look for another. A poor chaperone, at best, but it was needed at an event like this one. 

Despite having grown up around these people, Lydia could not have named a single one. So long as they also could not name her, she was safe. 

Besides, there was one man in particular that she did have her eye set on. The only man in the room who had both refused to drink and dance with anyone. Lydia could not help but take it as a challenge that his standards seemed so impossibly high. Though, standing as tall as he did, she supposed he had room to be choosey. No doubt he was titled. She could see it in the confident way that he stood, watching everyone in the room with those enchanting eyes. Even through the black mask that he wore to conceal his identity, those striking gray eyes so light they were almost silver held her attention time and time again. 

Timidly, she turned her gaze in the direction of the man with such an intense stare. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that he was already looking in her direction. Lydia summoned more courage than she knew herself to have and straightened her posture, attempting to appear more… well, something. 

The man in the black mask smiled, but it was not a kind gesture. It did not feel as if he were inviting her over; rather, challenging her to see if she was worthy of standing by his side. It felt like a test, the way that his head tilted ever so slightly to the side and never broke eye contact with her. 

A thrill ran through her. A ripple of sensation that worked its way up from her spine to her chest and down around her fingertips. What might happen if she were to accept his challenge? What sort of prizes would lay there before her?

The choice clear. Stay there and enjoy the party then run home, or fully step into her ruse and see what might await her in his tempting gaze. 

“If you don’t go, I will.” Martha chuckled from Lydia’s side, elbowing her softly in the ribs to encourage her.

It was all the push that she needed. 

Lydia had never felt quite so powerful or important as when she took that first step and the man in the black mask’s smirk transformed into something she could only interpret as proud. Such a strange thing to wish to make a stranger proud. More than that, she wanted to impress him for reasons that she could not name. 

When she reached his side, he stood at least a head taller than her, as she had to look up to see him properly. His broad stature was even more impressive up close. She could swear that she could see his muscles through the sleeves of his coat and yet, when he extended out a hand toward her, he did so with grace and softness. 

“I was beginning to think that you were going to make me wait all night.” The man said, laughter in his voice despite the fact that his face no longer smiled. 

Up close she could see that he could not be much older than her, only a couple of years perhaps. 

“The proper thing would have been to come to my chaperone and ask for an introduction.” Lydia answered with a secret smile of her own. 

“Yes, but allowing you the space to come to me gave me a lovely opportunity to get a feel for the sort of woman that you are. I can normally read most women at functions like this.” He said as he led her toward the dance floor. The moment that her slippers crossed the threshold while holding this man’s hand, whispers erupted around them. Lydia glanced around herself to those whispering behind their fans. She was no wallflower, but she was not accustomed to so many people talking about her either. 

“Oh? And have you reached a conclusion as to what sort of woman I am?” Lydia asked. 

“I shall let you know when I have finished making my assessment.” He teased, pulling her just a touch closer than was strictly modest as he led her around the dance floor. 

A woman was always supposed to follow the lead of a man, that’s what father always said. 

But father was not here tonight. 

Lydia bit down on her bottom lip, and attempted to flip the direction of the dance so that she was in the lead. She knew that with so many eyes watching them, that he could not afford to make a scene here, but she was curious as to how he would handle it. He moved with surprising ease and swiftness considering how large of a man that he was. Though, he quickly resumed control of their moves with a chuckle. 

“You shall have to try harder than that, my lady.” He taunted. There was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not deny, the compulsion to compete was far too strong. 

“Just keeping you on your toes… well, I do not know what I am supposed to address you as, sir.” Lydia said as she took the lead once more. 

“You can ask me my name, my lady, but I might lie. Is the allure of this evening not supposed to revolve around mystery?”

“True, I suppose that I could give you a false name as well.”

“Why stop there? Why not invent a whole new persona and backstory? It is certainly the time and place for such games.”

“Do not tempt me, sir. You will quickly come to find that I have a very expansive imagination.”

“You are going to make me regret that we only have tonight to spend together if you keep saying things like that.”

“You say such bold things, sir.” Lydia said while holding direct eye contact. 

The man’s answer was to trail his hand down the curve of her spine, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. The air between them seemed to heat. She could read his intentions in the way he moved against her without him having to say a single word. 

Their song was quickly coming to an end, and she did not wish to be parted from him so quickly. There was something electric about the way that he touched her and the moments where his fingers brushed against even the smallest patches of bare skin that seemed to set her on fire deep within her core. She had never felt such a connection to somebody before. 

When the first song ended, an intimate waltz took its place. Feeling somewhat defeated, Lydia started to take a step away, but the mysterious man pulled her closer once more. It was hardly out of place. They were far from the only couple who was using the present anonymity to flirt far more than society’s standards would ever have allowed. 

The masked man leaned down closer, whispering in her ear softly. “Come walk with me.”

It was more of a command than a question, but as he pulled her into a waltz pose, she could not think of anything that she would rather be doing. 

As he pulled her upright, he winked. “Meet you outside.”

The choice was hers. But there was only one true option. Lydia had this feeling that if she did not go into that garden for a walk with him, that she would spend the whole rest of her life wondering ‘what if’. 

Stepping outside she found something magical. The pathway down into the gardens was lined with rounded archways covered in vines and pretty flowers of bright colors. Small lamps illuminate the way to where the masked man waited for her. Lydia walked slowly, letting her intuition guide her. She could hear others in the garden, hidden in small alcoves created by shrubs and bushes, making sounds that she had never heard before. Her same imagination could only wonder as to what they might have been up to. 

Something that she might wish for herself. 

Assuming, of course, that she could find the man in question. The further that she traveled into the garden maze, the harder it was to see. Lydia was moments away from pulling the mask off of her face when an arm caught her around the middle from behind, and pushed her mask right back down on her face. 

“Leave it on,” he said. 

Lydia waited for the nerves to settle in. Followed by that gnawing feeling that she normally got whenever she was about to do something that she knew that she wasn’t supposed to do, only it never came. The man’s hand cupped her neck softly as he stood behind her, the hand around her waist pulling her back into his firm body. A thrill shot through her, and she bit her bottom lip as his fingers splayed over her stomach. She had certainly heard about her share of rakes in her years. Not only from Martha or the warnings from her father, but from the gossip mill that she always pretended that she did not cling to. She never thought that she would be alluring enough to tempt one of them, and wanted to capitalize on the experience. 

On her own terms. 

Lydia spun in the man’s arms, placing a bold hand against his chest and pushing him back against a lamp pillar. A soft yellow glow encircled them boldly, and she had to hope that they were the only couple this deep into the maze. The man’s arms encircled her, resting low on the backs of her hips, allowing her to have the control in this setting far more easily than he had on the dance floor. Her chin lifted, but her gaze dropped to his lips. 

“Have you figured out what sort of woman that I am yet?” She asked, unable to stop herself as her gloved hand lifted, brushing her fingertips over his full bottom lip curiously. 

The man hummed low in the back of his throat in response. “Perhaps you should show me the sort of woman that you are? If you continue this bewitchment, I shall be far too deeply under your spell to think for myself.” He smiled then, a soft gesture of how pleased that he was to be in her company. Something inviting that she could not stop from returning. 

Lydia lifted onto the tips of her toes, her lips nearly brushing his own, a witty response waiting to tumble from her—when he moved. He closed the distance and pulled her right off her feet. It was like something had unleashed in him the moment that she had been about to give the go ahead. 

His kiss was unlike anything that she could have imagined. No amount of scandalous stories or innuendos made by Martha would have properly prepared her for such feelings. How was it possible that she could feel the echoes of his kiss everywhere? What bliss would it be to have him kiss her elsewhere? 

All rational thought left her mind. The words died unspoken on her lips as a world of new sensations was opened up to her. She fisted the lapel of his coat, pulling herself closer even as he lifted her to mold against his body. It was as if she had been made to fit against the firm planes of his body. Somehow, her limbs seemed to know just what to do as, in this, she allowed him to have the lead. Lydia’s arms wrapped around his neck, and she molded herself against the firm planes of his body, wanting more, needing more. The man’s mask bumped against her own, threatening to lift and expose to her who just this mystery man was—

Somebody called her name. 

In the distance a hushed, frantic voice called her name again. It seemed to be looming closer. 

The man’s mask started to slip as he kissed a heated path over the curve of her jaw and down the side of her neck. His hand shifted, holding her effortlessly with one arm while the other cupped her breast. Oh, she wanted to explore those feelings more than anything. 

Martha, it was Martha. 

Which meant that something bad had happened. The older woman never would have dared to interrupt what was happening for anything other than an emergency. 

“Go,” Lydia breathed. “I have to go. I am—forgive me.”

“What?” 

Lydia pushed out of his arms, leaving everything that the evening might have turned into behind her. The last thing to let go of was her hand, which the man seemed to wish to pull her back and keep her closer for as long as possible. She did not even see her handkerchief fall from where she had it as she hurried to Martha’s side.

Perhaps leaving was the part that she was going to forget. 

Perhaps this man will be the one who got away. 

 

Chapter One

Lydia Russell could not cry. 

She knew that she ought to. She knew that all of those in mourning around her kept giving her sideways glances and expecting at least a couple of tears to slide down her veiled cheek. But no matter how hard she tried she simply could not bring herself to cry. 

It was not as if she did not love her late husband. On the contrary, she had become quite fond of the man over the years. His ruddy cheeks and gasping laugh were things that had become comfortable. Routine, even. She supposed that she ought to have seen his health conditions coming. He was a man who always loved to indulge in excess. But, as he was the man of the house, she did not think that it was her place to attempt to police what he did. He was a good man. He provided well, was an adequate conversationalist. All things considered. Yes, Jacob, the Earl of Hillsborough was very well liked by all that knew him. Nobody could say anything bad about him. He was just forgettable in his mundaneness. 

Yes, Lydia could stand here at her late husband’s gravesite and think of a great many things that she was going to miss about the man. But heartbroken? She was not. 

“Will you truly use this as yet another excuse to humiliate me? Have you no shame?!” her father hissed bitterly from her side. 

Lydia did not so much as turn her head to look at the bitter old man. She could only imagine what must be going through his head. Being married had been best for the fact that it had allowed her freedom to escape from her horribly smothering father. She could only presume that he was going to take this unfortunate event as a free ticket back into her life whether she wanted him there or not. 

“For heaven’s sake, girl. You could at least pretend to be upset! Honestly, I should have known better than to think that you had a heart anywhere inside of that rebellious chest!” her father continued to hiss through his clenched, crooked teeth. 

There would be a tongue lashing to come from him later, she already knew. Father would lecture her about how a widow ought to behave and just how long it was that she was going to be expected to wear her black dresses and veils. Father would seek to dictate every aspect of her life from here forward until such a day comes that he could attempt to profit off of her a second time through another advantageous marriage. 

Having her father present was the only reason that Lydia had almost objected to having this large, fancy funeral in the heart of London. It was Jacob’s wish to be buried here, even though their home was in rural Northern England. 

Furthermore, she did not wish to have to force her daughter and stepdaughter to be exposed to their grandfather for a second longer than they needed to be. 

Lydia turned her focus across the way to the beautiful girls in question. They were so young to have lost their father. Being a parent was one aspect that Lydia could confidently say that Jacob truly shone at. It was a calling for him. Never once did he seem to begrudge the fact that he had no sons. He prided himself in raising his daughters equally as princesses, and Lydia would endeavor to do the same for them going forward. Which would have to start with not allowing her father to poison them and their opinions as he did to herself and her younger sister, Katherine. “Kitty” had lived with them the moment that she had been deemed a ‘useless spinster’ by their father. Now she stood with a supportive arm around the eldest, Margaret’s, shoulders. They stood stoically, tears streaking down their faces as the pastor finished giving the last rights. The older man moved forward; a fistful of dirt clenched in his palm which he then sprinkled over the coffin before it would be buried. 

Consumed by things that needed to happen quickly after Jacob’s death. Such things that she was hardly prepared for but would have no choice but to move with haste. There would not be any time allotted for her personal grief until the more pressing matters were attended to. 

But Lydia had always been that way. The benefit and welfare of others had come before her own wants and desires well before she became a mother and a wife. 

Distracted, Lydia did not realize that it was her turn to say her goodbyes and sprinkle her grave dirt until it was very apparent that all the guest’s eyes were on her expectantly. 

Father’s elbow found her ribs, pushing her forward with an impatient cluck of his tongue. 

How could she say goodbye to everything that her life had been with Jacob?

Methodically, as if she did not have proper control of her limbs, Lydia muttered a pathetic goodbye that was barely audible and dropped the grave dirt all in one go. 

Then it hit. 

Like a torrent unleashed inside of her, the truth that Jacob was well and truly gone overwhelmed her. Her knees threatened to buckle as she sucked in a large gulp of air. Everything was going to be gone. The estate, her security, her comfortable future. Everything was going to be upended if she was not very, very diligent. Jacob had become her friend, and now she was going to have to face the rest of the world alone and unprotected. 

Still, she could not cry. 

The rest of the funeral passed in what seemed to be a blur. Lydia’s mind would not stop churning. This was a puzzle that she was going to have to solve. It was improper to stand graveside and wonder how she was going to take over the estate and which of the staff were going to leave in the transition. It could be possible to take care of business. Before she knew it, she was standing in the parlor of her father’s home with her sister. Both of her daughters had chosen to rest for the afternoon, as their emotions were wearing on them. It was for the best, in her opinion. The transition was going to be the hardest on them both. It would be her mission to keep them from feeling too unsettled in the interim. 

“Nothing good happens when you get that look on your face, sister.” Kitty said softly. It was rare to hear her younger sister speak loudly. She was far more reserved and shy. In fact, Lydia was fairly certain that the only person other than her daughters that her sister spoke to at all was herself. 

“I am not sure what you mean by that.” Lydia sighed and sank down onto the settee beside her sister. She pulled Kitty into her arms and hugged her tightly. It was a gesture that likely made herself feel better than it actually helped her sister at all. 

“I mean that every time that I have ever seen you make that face where you seem so lost in thought, usually I have to break up a fight within the next twenty-four hours, sister.” Kitty sighed and gently started to push Lydia’s arms off of her. 

Lydia did not budge. “There is much to be done, and if I am going to be picking a fight with anybody, it will be father. Surely you know that.”

Kitty nodded. “That is what I hope to avoid, yes.”

“Why? Somebody needs to reason with him. It is not as if the man is capable of listening to reason. The whole carriage ride home while the girls were crying because they lost their own father, he was making uncomfortable noises and muttering about ‘womanly emotions’. Tell me, just how do you think staying in the same house with that man is going to end?” Lydia said. 

“You know, most will expect you to move back into father’s home. It would be expected of all of us, actually.”

None of them wished for that outcome. If Lydia could prevent such a thing, then she was going to do it. 

“How are you going to avoid such a thing, sister? It is only a matter of time before he starts to find marriages for us both all over again.” Kitty’s voice seemed to shrink at that. Inside Kitty’s chest beat a very soft heart. The sort that could not endure a marriage of convenience as Lydia had. Kitty needed romance and tenderness. She needed to be cared for and swept off of her feet and would not be able to settle for anything less. Something that father would never and could never understand. 

“I have rights as a widow you know.” Lydia finally released Kitty and smoothed her skirts down over her thighs. “It will be a great deal more difficult without Jacob, of course. However, I am still entitled to a third of his estate. I might not own the property myself, but it is not as if he had a named next of kin that I will have to worry about. Nobody should come sniffing around the grounds looking for pieces to sell off. There are still a great many fulfilling things that we can do on our own. Nothing much has to change.” 

At least, she hoped that it would not have to change. 

“And if some distant cousin steps into the picture? Or, heaven forbid, our father decides that he wishes to assert himself in our lives once more? I do not… Lydia, you cannot let him force me to move back home. I do not think that I could endure living under the same roof as him again.” Kitty added softly. 

Lydia could hear the tears in her voice despite the way that her sister refused to make eye contact with her. 

She had spent the majority of her life under the thumb of men, and she had no intention of doing so any longer. She had done as she was supposed to. Jacob had allowed her to run the house as she saw fit with little intervention and for that, she would be forever grateful as it had allowed her to cultivate the skills that she was going to need going forward. Furthermore, she wished to keep herself and her little family in their own home and not one of father’s other estates. He had not yet voiced such desires to send her there, but no doubt it was coming. Already, she was dreading the conversation that they were going to have over dinner. 

“My husband had no brothers, and I have to hope that finding an heir will be difficult. We could have weeks before the solicitor finds anyone. Even then, if they are anything like Jacob then they should be honorable enough to allow us all to continue to live there.” Lydia continued, patting her sister’s hand in hopes that the gesture would bring her some semblance of comfort. 

As if on cue, her father’s housekeeper entered the room to make an announcement. The solicitor had arrived, led into the drawing room moments after the announcement and accompanied by their father. 

Something constricted in Lydia’s throat as nerves bubbled in her stomach. The older man stood behind the solicitor with narrowed eyes. No doubt he had demanded to read the letter clutched in the solicitor’s hands and had been denied. Under other circumstances, Lydia might have gloated about such a thing. 

Instead, she somberly extended her hand for the letter. 

When she read the contents, she wished that she had not. 

Fury gripped her entire body so tightly that she nearly felt smothered by the anger. She crumpled the letter in her fist, and slammed it straight down on the table, causing everybody in the room to jump. 

“That bastard!”