She Ran From Her Unfaithful Fiancé Into a Dark Room—Unaware England’s Most Feared Duke Was Inside, Waiting in the Shadows.
Chapter 1
She Fled Her Faithless Suitor Into a Dark Room—Unaware England’s Most Feared Duke Was Hiding There
“If you intend to cry on my waistcoat,” a deep voice said from the darkness, “I should warn you that the fabric is expensive, and I have no intention of paying the laundress for your distress.”
Pride Ambrose nearly screamed.
She had just thrown herself against the closed door, certain she was alone.
The room was almost completely dark, illuminated only by the faint crimson glow of dying embers in the fireplace.
Now a man’s voice had emerged from somewhere in front of her.
Low.
Calm.
Amused.
“I am not crying,” Pride whispered, trying desperately to recover some dignity. “I am merely attempting to compose myself.”
A pause.
“And I had no idea anyone was in here.”
“I could say precisely the same.”
Something shifted near the fireplace.
A tall figure rose slowly from a large wing chair.
“I came here specifically to escape three hundred guests, an irritating quartet, and Lady Bracewell’s niece, whom she has attempted to present to me six separate times tonight.”
Pride swallowed.
“I apologize for interrupting.”
“You have not interrupted anything.”
His voice carried a dry amusement.
“I had already extinguished the candles and settled myself here with the intention of remaining undisturbed until midnight.”
Pride could finally distinguish his outline against the dying fire.
He was a large man.
Very tall.
Broad across the shoulders.
And strangely composed for someone who had just discovered a frightened woman hiding in his room.
“I should leave,” she whispered.
“Yes, that would ordinarily be sensible.”
Then they heard footsteps outside.
Pride froze.
A man’s voice echoed through the corridor.
“Pride?”
Her stomach twisted.
“Pridey, please come out. You’re making this far worse than it is.”
She pressed herself against the door.
The stranger went silent.
Then his voice dropped.
“Ah.”
He understood.
“Not wolves, then.”
Pride looked toward him.
“A suitor?”
She said nothing.
“A dishonest one, judging by the tone.”
His dry humor disappeared.
“What did he do?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“It became my concern the moment you hid in my room.”
Pride’s eyes widened.
“Your room?”
“Indeed.”
He stepped closer.
“And unless I am mistaken, that gentleman is about to open this door. When he discovers you and me together in complete darkness, the resulting scandal will be considerably worse than whatever you were trying to escape.”
Pride’s heart hammered.
The footsteps were getting closer.
The stranger continued quietly.
“I have spent most of my adult life avoiding scandal. If we are about to be ruined together, I should at least know your name.”
She hesitated.
“Pride Ambrose.”
“And what has brought Miss Ambrose fleeing through a crowded house?”
Pride closed her eyes.
“I saw my fiancé with my cousin.”
The man said nothing.
“He was on his knees in the conservatory,” she continued, her voice trembling with humiliation rather than fear now. “He was repeating the exact speech he gave me when he asked for my hand two weeks ago.”
The stranger’s expression hardened.
“Word for word?”
“Every word.”
Pride gave a bitter laugh.
“As though I could be replaced without him even bothering to invent a new lie.”
The footsteps stopped outside.
“He followed me when I ran.”
The stranger looked toward the door.
“And now he wants you to believe you misunderstood what you witnessed.”
“Yes.”
Pride’s voice broke.
“I would rather be disgraced beside a complete stranger than listen to that man tell me that my own eyes deceived me.”
For several seconds, the room was silent.
Then something changed in the man’s expression.
The amusement was gone.
His voice became quieter.
“Then you shall not have to face him alone.”
He walked toward the fireplace and extended a hand.
“Come here.”
Pride stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because if he finds you standing in darkness with a man, the story will write itself.”
He gestured toward the fire.
“If he finds two perfectly respectable people standing in a room illuminated by the hearth, there is considerably less to invent.”
Pride slowly crossed the room.
She stopped beside him.
“Stand here.”
She obeyed.
The red glow of the fire finally revealed his face.
Strong features.
Dark hair.
Cold, penetrating eyes.
A scar near his temple.
Pride’s breath caught.
She knew that face.
She had seen him earlier across the ballroom.
And she remembered the warning whispered by one of the older ladies.
Stay away from him.
The Duke of Jarnis is not a man one should provoke.
Pride looked up at him.
“You’re the Duke of Jarnis.”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“So you have heard of me.”
“Everyone has.”
“Then you know I am supposed to be terrifying.”
“You are.”
His eyebrow rose.
Pride immediately regretted answering so honestly.
“I mean…”
“I prefer honesty.”
For the first time that evening, she almost smiled.
The Duke glanced toward the door.
“Unfortunately, our conversation must wait.”
Pride heard the footsteps again.
Closer.
Much closer.
The Duke’s voice became firm.
“When that door opens, say nothing.”
“What?”
“Let me handle him.”
“But—”
“No explanations.”
His gaze settled on hers.
“You have already explained yourself enough tonight.”
Pride stared at him.
“And what will you say?”
“Whatever is necessary.”
The footsteps stopped directly outside.
The Duke straightened.
His entire presence changed.
The relaxed gentleman from the darkness disappeared.
In his place stood the man England whispered about.
Cold.
Commanding.
Untouchable.
Pride suddenly understood why people feared him.
He looked down at her.
“Do not be frightened.”
She nodded.
“Whatever happens tonight,” he said quietly, “that man will not make you defend yourself to him again.”
The door handle moved.
Pride’s fingers tightened together.
The door opened.
Her faithless fiancé stood in the doorway.
He stopped dead.
His eyes moved from Pride to the Duke.
Then back again.
“Pride…”
The Duke stepped forward.
“Do not.”
The single word was enough to silence him.
The young man swallowed.
“Your Grace, I—”
“You have been searching for Miss Ambrose.”
“Yes.”
“Then you have found her.”
The Duke’s expression remained unreadable.
“Now explain why you have been following a young woman through my house after she clearly wished to be left alone.”
The fiancé opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Pride watched the color drain from his face.
For the first time that night, she wasn’t the person being interrogated.
She wasn’t the woman forced to prove she had seen what she had seen.
She was simply standing beside the most powerful man in the room.
And the Duke had decided she was under his protection.
Her fiancé tried again.
“There has been a misunderstanding.”
The Duke’s eyes became colder.
“Has there?”
“Yes. Pride believes she saw something in the conservatory, but—”
“I see.”
The Duke looked toward Pride.
Then back at the man.
“Then you have nothing to fear from an explanation.”
The fiancé hesitated.
“Unless,” the Duke continued, “there is something you would rather not explain.”
Silence.
Pride felt the tension in the room tighten.
The Duke stepped closer.
“I suggest you choose your next words with extraordinary care.”
The young man’s face turned pale.
Behind him, several guests had begun gathering in the corridor.
Whispers spread through the house.
The Duke did not move.
He merely looked at Pride’s fiancé until the man finally lowered his eyes.
And Pride realized something that would change the course of her life.
She had entered the dark room hoping to hide from one humiliating truth.
Instead, she had stumbled directly into the protection of the one man in England powerful enough to expose it.
And before the night was over, the Duke of Jarnis would make a decision that would leave the entire ballroom speechless.