Secrets Of A Duchess. Kaitlin O'Riley

      Wishing to escape another unwanted dance partner, Caroline managed to slip away from the ballroom unnoticed. Her aunt and uncle were engaged in conversation with Lady Maxwell; her sister was dancing a reel with a rather short, blond gentleman; and her grandmother was having an animated discussion with Lady Weatherby. She would not be missed for a moment or two. She passed the card room, where the older ladies and gentlemen were playing whist and faro, and ambled aimlessly down a long hallway, taking a moment here and there to admire the formal Maxwell family portraits displayed on the walls. No one paid any attention to her as she ascended a short flight of stairs and stepped through a set of French doors, which opened onto a marble balcony overlooking a well-manicured garden.

      A full moon bathed the balcony in a silvery light, and Caroline breathed in the fresh air, which was perfumed with the scent of blooming lilacs. The cool air felt refreshing after the stuffiness of the ballroom. Because she was so warm and still unused to wearing them, she peeled off her long, white gloves and stuffed them into her small reticule, reminding herself to don them again before she returned to her grandmother. Olivia would certainly disapprove of her granddaughter being gloveless.

      Relieved to finally be alone, she leaned against a tall marble pillar, which felt deliciously cool against her warm skin, and breathed deeply. It was quiet here; she could barely hear the faint strains of music from the ballroom. Gazing up at the glowing full moon, her thoughts drifted, and a slight sigh escaped her.

      The mere fact that she was attending a ball in London at all was still unbelievable. Only months earlier she lived with her father and sister in a little cottage in the country. When her father died last October, he left her and Emma penniless, and Caroline had just accepted a position as a governess with a family in Sussex. Then her grandmother, Olivia Fairchild, the Dowager Countess of Glenwood, arrived, rescuing her and Emma from an uncertain fate and bringing them into a new world. She consequently met a family she had never known. During the past six months, she had grown to love her grandmother, as well as her mother’s brother, Uncle Kit, and his wife, Jane, and their young son, Teddy. This new family was a soothing balm to help ease the ache of being left orphaned by the death of both her parents. Now after months of training in etiquette and deportment with her grandmother and Aunt Jane, she was finally making her Season debut in London, as all well-bred young ladies of society did. The ultimate goal, of which, was to find a suitable husband.

      She had agonized for weeks over what to do about this situation. Would she be able to deter any suitors without causing her grandmother to become aware of her true intentions? Would her newly devised plan actually work? Could she extricate herself from the possibility of marriage without arousing suspicion of the truth?

      The truth that still haunted her night after night. The truth that she could not marry anyone.

      “Such a beautiful young lady shouldn’t look so sad on such a beautiful night.”

      Almost jumping out of her skin, Caroline was startled by the sound of a deep male voice. With her hand on her pounding heart, she turned and saw the tall figure of a man leaning against another white marble column in the shadows at the far end of the balcony.

      “I apologize for startling you.”

      After taking a shaky breath, her hand still on her heart, she murmured, “No, I am sorry, sir. I had no idea anyone else was out here. Forgive me if I have intruded.” She turned to leave.

      “No apologies are necessary. There is no reason for you to go,” he said, his voice distinctive in its resonance. “We can both enjoy this incredible full moon.”

      As he moved forward and the moonlight fell across his face, Caroline saw that she did not recognize the man standing in the shadows. In fact, she was quite certain that she had never met him, because she would have remembered seeing that face. Oh yes, she definitely would have remembered seeing that man’s face before. Her heart skipped a little beat as she stared up at him, startling her more than his voice had just done. He was quite tall and powerfully built. He possessed a muscular body that was evidently used to a great deal of physical activity, and he held himself with an easy confidence. A suit of the finest quality fit his masculine form elegantly, without being fussy. Dark black hair covered his head, and piercing blue eyes peered astutely from his classically chiseled face. He was not sporting a set of whiskers, as was the current fashion for men, but was clean shaven, which set off his features more prominently: an aquiline nose; a strong, angular jawline; and dark, expressive eyebrows framed eyes that projected honesty, intelligence, and humor. He was handsome with a very commanding presence.

      The man was perfect looking.

      “Why aren’t you inside, trying to find a husband like all the other girls?” He stepped toward her, stopping about a foot away, and leaned himself casually against the white marble railing.

      She saw him smile and then realized he was teasing her. Oddly unsettled by his physical presence and more than a little irked by his condescending comment, she offered back with slight sarcasm, “Maybe I don’t want a husband.”

      With a smirk on his handsome face, he cast a doubtful look in her direction. He uttered somewhat scornfully, “In all my life I have yet to meet a female that didn’t want a husband.”

      Now Caroline was irritated. He had actually smirked at her! Moreover, he certainly harbored a low opinion of women. “Well, there is always a first time for everything. I am Miss Caroline Armstrong. And I do not want a husband.” She curtsied in mock politeness, a contemptuous look on her face, certain that she had broken quite a number of rules of etiquette on the proper introduction to a gentleman. “I am pleased to meet you.”

      Picking up on her little game, he bowed most elegantly, his eyes flashing at her. “I am Alexander Woodward, and it is, indeed, an honor to meet you, Miss Armstrong.” Each word dripped with disdain.

      His name sounded vaguely familiar to her, but then she had been introduced to so many people in the past weeks that all the names had blurred. “Congratulations, Mr. Woodward. You have finally met a woman who does not wish to get married.” Then she added impetuously, “I do hope you don’t faint.”

      He shook his head lightly and grinned at her with a wry look. “I find it very difficult to imagine that a young lady such as yourself has no interest in getting married.”

      “Then you obviously have a very poor imagination.”

      He laughed out loud at that. An appreciative laugh, deep and full of mirth. Then, with an intense stare, he questioned her. “Why are you having a Season then, Miss Armstrong, if not to look for a husband?”

      “Because my grandmother expects me to.” The truth was out of Caroline’s mouth before she could consider what she was saying. It was a relief to finally be honest about how she felt. Even to a complete stranger. And a very handsome stranger at that. “She, along with everyone else in society, seems to think that it is of the utmost importance for me to get married as quickly as possible.”

      “You don’t agree with that sentiment?”

      “Not particularly, no.”

      “What if a suitable young man offers for you? What will you do then?”

      “That won’t happen because I shall not encourage anyone. I’ll be a bluestocking, deadly dull, a boring old spinster.” Now she had confessed her plan to him. What was she thinking?

      “I don’t think you could convince anyone that you are a boring old spinster.”

      “My, but you are full of opinions, Mr. Woodward.”

      “As are you, Miss Armstrong. But