A Deal with a Devilish Duke: A Steamy

Marriage of Convenience Historical

Regency Romance Novel (The Rules of
Scandal Book 1) Tessa Brookman
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/a-deal-with-a-devilish-duke-a-steamy-marriage-of-con
venience-historical-regency-romance-novel-the-rules-of-scandal-book-1-tessa-brook
man/
A DEAL WITH A DEVILISH DUKE
THE RULES OF SCANDAL
BOOK ONE
TESSA BROOKMAN
 CO N T E N T S

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

A Book for FREE

Also by Tessa Brookman
About the Author
 ABOUT THE BOOK

Lady Meredith is a shy bluestocking. All she wishes is to experience the scandalous joys penned in
her romantic novels and perhaps even someday find her own ‘storybook’ lover. But when her father
announces she is to marry the notorious Duke Ethan, her hope-filled future crumbles right before her
eyes…

Duke Ethan, known for his reputation as a notorious rake and gambler, finds his wealth dwindling.
His solution? A brief, advantageous marriage to the subservient Lady Meredith, whose nature to
never refuse plays right into his two-week marriage scheme, after which they’ll part ways…

Upon discovering Ethan’s intentions with her, Meredith is furious. But in her hopeless situation, she
sees an opportunity. If her marriage is to only last a mere 14 days, she will make the best use of it by
fulfilling all her romantic fantasies with her ‘temporary husband’… Even if it takes seducing him
first…
 CHAP T E R 1

M eredith Notley fought against the urge to tug at her ivory gloves again as she glanced around
the packed ballroom. This was her coming out, her first ball, and her first time being
thrown into the customary game of the marriage mart. As she stood by an exquisite display of wall
tapestries among a crowd of vaguely familiar faces and tittering ladies, a flutter of butterflies danced
in her stomach. This was truly the upper echelons of society, and although her father had the good
grace to provide her with this opportunity, she still felt like an intruder. She tried not to let it show on
her face, smiling politely and offering the slightest inclination of her head at each comment addressed
to her, as propriety had taught her.
She knew full well that if tonight didn't work out as planned, if she continually failed to entertain a
suitor, then her father wouldn't hesitate to arrange for her a marriage of convenience. It was a part of
the Notley family tradition and something she had been warned about. Out of instinct, Meredith
touched the book hidden in her reticule and counted to ten.
I will marry for love. I will not allow my life to be dictated… But that is a matter for another
time. For now, I must find a way to excuse myself so I can finish reading this final chapter.
“Ah, Lady Meredith,” a young woman in an in-fashion red chenille gown spoke over the
boisterous ramblings of the ton. Lady Harriet Gladstone. They had only been introduced on one other
occasion, and certainly not under the best of circumstances. “I hope the Duke’s private ball has
exceeded your expectations as it so often has mine. My, what fortuity you must entertain to be debuted
here.”
Meredith nodded and smiled before finding her voice, “I fear I shall only be disappointed from
here onwards, Lady Harriet.”
“It truly is a shame the Duke of Allerton does not attend his own balls with the rest of polite
society,” she moved a little closer and lowered her voice, “I have heard on-dit he prefers gaming
hells and the company of light skirts.”
“A fashionable hobby for a fashionable gentleman, I’m sure,” Rose Middleton, Meredith’s cousin,
chimed in, arriving by her side with a cup of punch in hand. Meredith breathed a sigh of relief at her
cousin’s entrance—getting entangled in gossip was not her idea of a fun pastime.
“Of course,” Lady Harriet grinned smugly, as she swept back with the force of a typhoon. Her
gaze fell on Rose’s drink. “Oh, dear. That reminds me, I am absolutely parched. Lady Meredith, might
you do me the favor of fetching a cup of punch? I would be eternally grateful.”
Meredith felt her cheeks flush but nodded, looking around for the closest refreshment table.
Before she could walk off and aid Harriet with her request, Rose grasped her arm. “I’m sorry, Lady
Harriet, but Meredith is not here to be your personal servant tonight. If you need something, it would
be advisable that you get it yourself.”
The lady raised her thin eyebrows in surprise as if challenging Rose, who did not appear
intimidated in the slightest. “I see,” Harriet murmured, “Very well then. You may have a wonderful
evening.”
Once Harriet had retreated, Meredith turned to Rose with a look of surprise and gratitude. The
surrounding guests appeared blissfully unaware of the brief confrontation, which offered Meredith
some relief. “Thank you, cousin,” she mouthed.
Rose smiled warmly. “You needn’t thank me, Meredith. You need to start standing up for yourself
and not let people push you around. You are capable of much greater things than fetching drinks or
being told what to do all the time,” Rose softened her voice as she arched closer to Meredith’s ear,
“Besides, did you see Lady Harriet’s face? Oh, was it satisfying to sour her smug expression.”
The two cousins shared a conspiratorial glance before giggling together. For a moment, thanks to
her older cousin, she seemed to enjoy the ball, despite her nerves. She did feel foolish upon realizing
the truth in her cousin’s words, however, and a sense of shame flowed through her.
Before the conversation could continue, a tall gentleman approached them. He had piercing blue
eyes that were a striking contrast to his dark hair, and he bowed politely. “Ladies,” he spoke with a
hint of a smile in his voice.
Meredith felt her heart skip as she nervously eyed Rose, who seemed surprisingly calm and
collected despite the unexpected arrival of their visitor.
“I couldn’t help but notice the two of you conversing so gaily and wished to know what the rest of
us were missing out on,” he continued charmingly before turning to Rose. “Lady Rose, perhaps you
could catch me up during the next dance.”
Rose glanced at Meredith as if asking for permission. She knew Meredith could use the company,
but Meredith was already searching for a secluded area in the full ballroom to retreat to with her
book. Meredith immediately nodded at her cousin and encouraged her to engage with the charming
gentleman.
“It would be a pleasure, My Lord,” said Rose.
Meredith watched as the gentleman and Rose disappeared onto the dancefloor, leaving her alone
once more. The lively whirl of elegantly dressed guests was both thrilling and overwhelming in equal
measure. She took a deep breath and continued looking for an area to find a respite.
Finally, after navigating through several nooks amid the throngs of people, she stumbled upon a
small alcove tucked away in the corner of the ballroom. She carefully parted the thick brocade
curtains, almost expecting crowds of people to be behind it when instead she found a long empty
hallway that stretched at least twenty meters ahead. There were rooms on each side of a regal red
carpet that divided the marble floor.
Once she was sure no one was around, she removed the book from her reticule and a wistful
smile graced her lips as she was drawn back to the chapter she had been reading before the ball. The
couple had finally professed their love for one another after their passionate kiss, a scandalous one
that no one could ever know of. Her cheeks flushed and she reread the romantic words before
continuing.
Suddenly, a stab of pain shot through Meredith, and her book nearly fell to the marble floor.
Meredith yelped, assuming she bumped into a hard pillar. She clutched the romantic novel firmly
against her bosom, as if protecting it with her life, before looking up in question at the one
responsible for her near-injury.
A pair of eyes, a captivating blend of blue and green, gazed back at her with confusion and she
took a step back from embarrassment. Whoever the stranger in front of her was, he was exceedingly
handsome. He stood tall, with his dark brown hair messy over his head, emphasizing the sharp angles
of his face. He wore a tailored midnight blue coat that fit him perfectly, outlining the broadness of his
shoulders and tapering down to a narrow waistline. Around his neck was a gold-colored cravat with
a sapphire pin that glittered in the candlelight.
He tilted his head slightly to one side as if studying her, and then snatched the book from her hands
as if it belonged to him.
“Pardon me, My Lord,” Meredith yelped, trying to get her book back. “This does not belong to
you!”
“Oh, I am aware. I was simply wondering what a beautiful creature like you is doing hiding away
in the dark corners of my castle. Is this the cause?” he asked.
Meredith’s cheeks flushed at his compliment and she shook her head. “I was not hiding away, I
was merely…in need of some fresh air.”
“Perhaps I can escort you to the gardens then?”
Wait – did he say ‘my castle’? Could he perhaps be the Duke of Allerton? No. Of course not.
That man has a reputation for staying clear from his private gatherings.
The smugness of his smirk and the confidence in his eyes at her reaction only confused her further.
It would be impossible for someone not to hear his name or title and link him to disreputable causes.
Even being alone in the room with him was risking her future, risking her being embroiled in scandal.
He was rumored a rakehell—not even her strict upbringing could hide away what that meant.
Handsome as he was, this man was certainly not the Duke of Allerton.
“Do you make it your business to tell taradiddles, My Lord,” she retorted drily. Her eyes darted to
her book once more and she reached her hand forward, causing him to angle it further away from her.
“No more than what you were just reading in this block of wood, I’m sure. And my offer still
stands.” His voice was dark and warm and she was ashamed that her body was reacting to his words.
“Thank you for the offer, but I would rather return to my novel and make my own way. I would
like it back.”
The gentleman’s eyes darkened and he took one step closer to her. It was only one step, but it
caused her heartbeat to quicken as he shamelessly studied her figure. The mysterious man possessed
exceeding charms and it was embarrassing that she was falling for them.
“Hmm. You seem quite intent on getting back to what you were doing. What has you so fascinated,
I wonder.” He held the book in front of him, studying its cover. “Whispers of Serendipity.”
“It’s nothing!” She lunged forward and tried to grab the book out of his hold once more, but he
simply turned the other way this time. She was far too short to reach and he seemed intent on
discovering what exactly she was hiding. Now, realizing it futile, she covered her face with one hand,
hiding the heat on her cheeks. “Please, don’t read it.”
“Ah, so this is the object of your fascination? Let us see,” he teased with a sly smirk. He was far
too bold as he flipped through the pages to a leather strip. Her breath hitched and she quickly stepped
back, debating whether it would be best to simply run back to the ballroom. “And then, as the moon
bore witness, their lips met, in a delicate mingling of breath and unspoken promises. He was the
perfect—”
“My Lord!” she called out, intending to stop him from reading any further. He turned around and
looked at her intensely. His gaze was so piercing that her muscles froze and her breath caught in her
throat. “I… I don’t…I didn’t mean to…” she stammered. His presence seemed to make the air around
her grow thicker and her face flushed a crimson red. He slowly inched toward her until her back
finally touched a hard wall.
Then, he gave a boyish smirk at her reaction and removed the gap between them with a final step,
placing his arm methodically to her right. “You didn’t mean to what?” His breath caressed her lips
and she unexpectedly grew warm in his scandalous proximity. Gooseflesh rose on her skin, and
before she could even acknowledge his question, his other arm glided around her waist and pressed
her closer to him.
Meredith felt the rise in her lower stomach, an intensity that was both thrilling and frightening.
The sound of a soft thud reached her ears which she assumed was the book falling to the floor. His
eyes shamelessly lingered on her lips, and she didn’t miss the moment of hesitation that crossed him,
as if he was battling something inside. His gaze drifted lower, and she felt as though he was slowly
undressing her with his eyes, sending her heart racing. Her arms instinctively rose to cover her
bosom.
At this gesture, he paused, allowing her a moment to remove herself from the situation if she
wished, but Meredith was trapped in his snare. She couldn’t, no, didn’t want to leave. Instead, her
eyelids fluttered before finally closing softly. And before she could catch her breath, their bodies
melted together. He lifted her by the waist and traced his lips over her neckline in a careful, gentle
touch that brought to surface a tingling sensation that was both torturous and pleasure-filled.
Her head fell back to the skies. Her breathing grew erratic in her failed attempts to rein in all she
was feeling. With eyes still shut, her hands instinctively latched onto his coat lapels, pulling him
tighter into her embrace. She desired more. So much more. But a feeling of regret began to wash over
her at her boldness and what he might think of her.
All those feelings were assuaged as he seemed to only grow more eager by her wantonness,
pressing her up against the wall and wrapping her legs around his waist, as his other hand moved to
her cheek. She could feel a hardness pressing against her thighs and it threatened to consume her soul
in flames of desire.
Then, after a moment of gazing into his hazel eyes, a moment that held the weight of an eternity, his
lips crushed against hers with force. His masculine sandalwood fragrance filled each breath she took
and sent waves of ecstasy throughout her body. He began thrusting ever so slowly over their clothes,
and his hand fell from her cheek, drifting its way lower between her thighs. It finally reached her most
intimate area and she weakened into his embrace, her arms knotting around the nape of his neck as she
surrendered to his power.
But just as suddenly, she snapped to her senses and showed a moment of hesitancy, something the
mysterious gentleman smoothly picked up on, softly dropping her back to her feet and adding a
distance between them. A wave of regret swept through Meredith as she left his hot embrace, and she
truly wished to throw herself back into his arms. But instead, she steeled herself.
As attractive and as intimidating the man before her was, she couldn’t allow herself to succumb to
his blatant attempts of seduction. If she were seen right now, her one and only chance of doing what
she wished—finding a husband—, everything would come crumbling down and would be snatched
away from her.
“...M-my Lord, it would be wiser if you…if we parted ways. We have been wholly
inappropriate,” she quickly said with all the courage she could muster.
She was met with a frown as he picked up the book from the ground and offered it back to her.
“You must forgive me. I simply desired to show you what you have been reading,” he said as
innocently as a man who had not just a moment ago tangled himself improperly with a lady and left
her breathless on her toes… to put it politely.
“I was not…I did—” Meredith took a step back and tried to steady herself. Why did it feel so
warm in here? Oh, she desperately needed some fresh air now. “...I… believe it would be wise if we
put some distance between us...”
The gentleman’s smile slowly faded and his eyes became unreadable and impossible to reach. He
stepped away from her and sighed deeply, looking visibly disappointed. “As you wish, Lady
Meredith,” he said as he bowed.
Her breath was still shaky as she tried to compose herself after their scandalous tryst. “Thank you
—” Wait. How does he know my name?
Before she could voice her thoughts, the man had exited the scene, leaving her cold and alone
once more. Meredith tried to pull herself together but failed miserably; all she could do was stand
there, breathless and stunned by what almost happened between them and hoping that she never came
across that man again for the remainder of the Season.
Or better yet, ever again.
 CHAP T E R 2

M eredith walked toward her father’s office, clutching the novel tightly in her delicate hands.
She was not particularly worried at his sudden request for her presence, more anxious at
being asked how she had fared during her debut. Truth be told, she hadn't managed to attract any
potential suitors and she knew her father might be disappointed with that, even if it was her first ball
and first formal appearance in society.
Though she had gladly accepted dances with many gentlemen of the ton, her only memorable
encounter was the mysterious man she had shared a kiss with early on during the outing. Her cheeks
bloomed with a rosy hue and her fingers brushed her lips, reliving the memory of their forbidden kiss.
Thankfully, she had not seen him again, and thus assumed he left early which helped her relax a little
for the remainder of the night.
Meredith rapped on the door to her father’s office before stepping inside. The strong smell of the
countless leather-bound volumes her father owned, mingling with the spice of tobacco smoke,
assailed her senses all at once. But when she saw who was inside her father's office, she almost
swooned.
Her hand gripped the brass door handle to steady herself, lest she faint from mortification. Sitting
on the cotton chaise in front of her father’s rosewood desk was the mysterious man from the ball. A
roguish smile played upon his devilishly handsome features and he rose from his seat, bowing and
greeting her in a practiced manner as if he had not seduced her only hours ago. Her eyes widened at
the sight of him and had her father not been sitting directly before her, she might have fled in
embarrassment.
“You again?” she whispered, far too quietly for her father to hear. “Did you follow me here?
Have you no shame?”
“Ah! Here is my daughter now," her father, Lord Notley, said with a proud look on his face as his
eyes peeled away from some papers at his desk. “Take a seat, Meredith, please.”
The mysterious gentleman resumed his seat, but she didn’t miss the glance he sent her way or the
smirk at the book she was holding.
What business has he with our family? Oh no… did he perhaps tell father about what
transpired between us at the ball?
Meredith’s jaw fell slack as she contemplated stepping back outside and postponing the berating
she was bound to receive. Her eyes fell to the floor in humiliation.
“F-father…?”
 Her father beamed and he motioned for her to sit. She complied with a soft smile. But behind her
façade, her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and her fingers twisted the fabric of her muslin
gown. Her gaze flitted to the gentleman before her, before returning to her lap. Over and over. After a
few more moments of painful silence, her father finally spoke up.
“Meredith, dear," he began, “I am certain you know of His Grace already.”
Meredith’s eyes immediately darted to the gentleman seated across from her. “His Grace?”
“Erm, yes, His Grace. The Duke of Allerton. I have arranged a marriage for you with Duke Ethan
Connolly." He paused, clearing his throat, almost as if expecting applause for his accomplishment,
before continuing, “The arrangements have already been made and the date is set for three weeks
from now. It is my hope that you will find happiness with this union."
“I…Duke Ethan? I don’t…” It took a while for her father’s words to register and she was
receiving too much information at once. The man sitting next to her was the Duke of Allerton? And
her father was…marrying her off?
“Now, I am certain you have questions, but I’ll answer everything after. I have already
contemplated this matter significantly, and decided a stable, arranged marriage is far more favorable
to an ill-fated love match,” Lord Notley said matter-of-factly.
“An ill-fated…” She didn’t allow her voice to continue the sentence. Her back touched the cotton
chaise and she could barely control her unstable breathing as she was hit with swift and piercing
statements, one after the other. So was it all a lie? All the chances at finding a suitor? Attending balls
for the season?
“Your Grace,” Lord Notley said, oblivious to her barely restrained emotional turmoil. “I shall
permit a few minutes of solitude with Meredith, but I will be standing by the door outside. I hope you
can understand that.”
Duke Ethan nodded, his face as solemn as ever. “I would expect nothing less, My Lord,” he spoke
for the first time.
With that, Meredith’s father nodded and walked out of the office, leaving the two of them alone
once more. A heavy silence hung in the air between them before Duke Ethan eventually stood up.
Much to her astonishment, however, he walked right past her and took a seat on her father’s office
chair with no regard for his manners. Then, he crossed his legs and rested them on the desk, only
grinning as he noticed Meredith’s exasperation at his boldness.
With his voice low and strong, he began, “Well, I suppose we are bound together now after all.”
Meredith’s cheeks burned with rage, not only at Duke Ethan’s antics but also at her father for
trapping her in this situation. She held her head high and stared him straight in the eyes before she
spoke. “How long have you known about this?”
Duke Ethan simply shrugged as he leaned his head back lazily. Oh, how she desired to open the
door and show her father the impertinence of this man!
“I will not accept this marriage," she said flatly. "That is a decision I will make for myself. You
may have entrapped my father with your twisted combination of charm and etiquette, but not I."
Ethan regarded her for a moment, really stared at her, and suddenly, the hems of her skirts seemed
a far more interesting prospect than they did but a moment ago. The creaking of the desk reached her
ear, and she looked up to find the Duke of Allerton making his way toward her. He stopped a mere
foot away from her and his eyes glinted with menacing cruelty as she exhaled in frustration at his
control over her.
 "You may decline," he began softly, "but your father will simply find someone else...someone who
could be far worse than I, if you indeed believe marriage to me is that unpleasant a prospect.”
“Worse than a rake?” she asked wryly.
Ethan shifted closer, inspecting every inch of her, his well-defined lips lifting into a smile in the
process. “Yes, far worse than a rake.”
“And how did you become the arbiter of my fate, Your Grace,” she said drily at his blatant
attempt at trickery, to make her feel as though her father would sell her off elsewhere at any given
opportunity.
“Well, let us just say I had to hurdle far fewer obstacles to impress your father than I expected as
someone with such a,” his eyes glinted, “…deplorable reputation.”
Meredith bit her lip in embarrassment. There remained more than a hint of truth in his words if her
father was willing to set up an arranged marriage between herself and the Duke. “...And I suppose if I
were to reject this proposal, you would tell my father about what happened earlier—"
Ethan shook his head with conviction, declining the implication she was making. Meredith
remained silent, still avoiding his gaze. But his warm fingers touched her chin and she was forced to
face him once more.
“What if I offer you something to sweeten the deal?” he began.
“The deal?” she asked, her eyelids fluttering as memories of their shared past reignited.
“Yes, a deal,” he continued. He moved even closer now and whispered against her ears, “You
agree to this marriage and we marry in three weeks as arranged. But after two weeks hence, I will
have you relocated to a country estate and you will be free to live as you wish there, without any
restrictions and as if we never married. You can find someone to…entertain you and it will not be my
business.”
Her eyes flew open and she stared into the mesmerizing depths of his hazel orbs in shock. He must
have seen something else in her expression that gave him the confidence to continue, “But in the
meanwhile, until you are sent away, there will be a set of rules you need to abide by.” He paused for
a moment to let his words sink in.
“...What sort of rules,” she asked. “And why two weeks?”
“I have an estate that is being renovated in Wiltonshire and my steward estimates it will take a
little over a month from now to complete,” he explained. “As for the conditions, they should be quite
easy to follow. First and foremost, I don’t like being addressed as ‘Your Grace’. We are to be wed,
so you may call me ‘Ethan’.”
Meredith gulped and nodded, indicating to him that she understood.
“I want to hear you say it,” he said.
“...I may call you Ethan,” she repeated.
“Good. Now, the rest of the rules are just as simple: You may not inquire about my business or
any of my past relationships. We will not dine together. And we will sleep in separate chambers
throughout our stay together.”
Meredith immediately rose to her feet at all the implications he was making.
“Do you accept this arrangement, Meredith?”
She stood there for what felt like an eternity, the thoughts in her mind battling each other. If her
father truly was sold on a ‘stable, marriage of convenience’ as he had put it, this may be her best way
to get out unscathed. But deep inside, she was terrified. Terrified of being abandoned. Never fulfilling
all her wishes. Never being loved… Could she really accept the offer?
Before she could respond, the door creaked open and Duke Ethan swiftly moved away from her
with the dexterity of a feline.
“Is everything all right?” her father asked with a bright grin on his face. He seemed far too
pleased with the situation, and Meredith could not help the discomfort and anxiety that crept up her
stomach.
“I suppose,” was all Meredith could say. She stood up, clenching her fists. “I think I shall sleep
on it, father. I will have a response tomorrow.”
Meredith forced a smile before turning to Ethan and bowing her head in an attempt to hide the
dissatisfaction in her expression. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace."
“Now, hold on a moment—”
Ignoring her father’s words, she hastened from the room, desperate to escape the suffocating
weight of her present circumstance.
She felt a tight knot form in her throat as tears threatened to break through but with gritted teeth
and determination on her face, Meredith shook her head and tried to recover. Finally, she hurried up
the stairs and let out a deep breath.
Her gaze traveled to the romantic novel she clutched to her bosom, a poignant reminder of her
own desires for her future. Rose was right, she was allowing other people to dictate her life. She was
watching all of her dreams be shattered one by one and all she could do was cry?
If this union with Duke Ethan was to last for a mere fortnight, then she would take advantage of
that. As much as she wished for a life like her novels, it had just become an unrealistic and
unattainable dream. Right before her eyes. Clenching her teeth, she blinked away her tears. During
those two weeks, she would set her own wishes and her own rules. She would use Ethan for her own
desires and then she would accept her freedom and live in the countryside, alone.
Standing up, she rushed to the bottom of the stairs, watching as the Duke of Allerton walked
through the halls and headed for the doors.

Ethan Connolly walked out of Lord Notley’s office with relief flooding his body. Smoothly, he fixed
the lapels of his coat and felt his heartbeat gradually steadying. It was silly, indeed, that he was
feeling this sense of relief—it was he who suggested the arrangement after all. It happened after he
found out Lord Notley had arranged for his only daughter, Meredith, to be married off to Lord Sutton,
an elderly gentleman with three past marriages and without an ounce of shame in his body. He didn’t
know Meredith, but one thing was clear: no respectable person deserved to be bound to Lord Sutton,
and Ethan wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemy.
The unconditional access to the rest of his inheritance upon finally being married only sweetened
the deal, of course. Yet, he was glad she rejected. Marriage was not something Ethan would wish
upon his worst enemy either. His boots tread softly on the carpeted floor to the front door and he
watched as the footman opened the door for him.
“Wait!” he heard a soft voice call out from behind him and a chill ran up his spine. It was so
quiet, yet the implications of it startled him and caused his body to stiffen.
Lady Meredith?
 Ethan stopped and spun to face her. “Yes?” he asked, unsure of what to expect. A lump formed in
his throat as eyes with a hint of redness glared at him. Meredith stood before him, her brown curls
loose and flailing over her shoulders, touching her pearly skin.
“I accept your proposal,” she quickly said.
He most certainly did not expect that.
A twinge of regret shot through him. “…Very well,” was all he said. “I’m glad we settled that.”
He turned around, ready to leave, but her small hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him. He
was far too sensitive to her touch and it wasn’t normal.
“What is in it for you?” she quietly asked.
He turned to face her as a smile played across his lips. Then, he turned away once more and
walked out of the manor.
CHAP T E R 3
 THREE WEEKS LATER

T he carriage swayed back and forth as Ethan and Meredith headed back to Penrose Castle.
Meredith’s brown eyes were glued to her lap, and she hadn’t uttered a word since the brief
and intimate ceremony. Only four people were present, and the after-party lasted for less than half an
hour after finding there wasn’t much to do at all. An untraditional celebration for an unlikely match.
Yes, that seemed fitting to Ethan.
As the carriage jolted to a halt before the castle, Meredith’s thigh brushed against his, and she
offered him an apologetic glance.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice trembling slightly, as if they were strangers as opposed to a
newlywed couple.
The footman opened the door and Ethan exited the carriage, holding his hand out for Meredith
who struggled to bunch up her long, ivory wedding dress. As exhausted as she seemed, she appeared
ravishing, more beautiful than most women that generally surrounded his company. If she wasn’t his
wife, Ethan would certainly be of a mind to take her right here in the carriage. But everything was
different now. The carriage tilted briefly as Meredith’s pale fingers interlaced with his and she
stepped onto the mounting block, but her feet gave way, causing her to almost trip. Instinctively, he
caught her by her waist before she could fall.
“Thank you,” Meredith breathed, blushing.
Ethan didn’t respond as he helped her inside the castle. He could feel her gaze on him and when
he met it, she averted hers in embarrassment. She was far too timid and he was unaccustomed to such
conduct in a lady. They walked in silence until they reached the grand foyer. A servant stood ready by
the door to take her belongings and escort her to her room.
“Your chambers are already arranged if you wish to retire,” Ethan explained, motioning in the
direction of the servant.
He could swear he noticed a hint of disappointment cross her expression, before she said, “Will
you not…escort me yourself?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said far too quickly. “Perhaps I should take some time to remind you
of the rules we—”
“I am well aware of the rules,” Meredith interrupted him. “I do not need to be reminded like a
tired puppy, and I think I will retire to my chambers now.”
There was silence between them and Ethan was surprised at her sudden change of attitude.
“Very well then,” he replied. “I may come later to check on you but do not wait on me. I do not
spend my nights inside the castle and our marriage won’t change that.”
Without uttering another word, Meredith swished her wedding gown, turned her back to him, and
glided up the carpeted steps of the castle, all as he watched her go. Her frail body faltered for a
moment and he felt that she would turn to look at him, but instead, she continued on with her head
lowered to the ground.
Ethan struggled to make sense of his emotions at that moment. They were a mixture of fear, lust,
and guilt, and he was unable to distinguish between them presently.
All that could offer him any kind of solace was that after two weeks, they would separate for
good.

Meredith entered her new chambers, her spine pressing against the now-shut door as she exhaled a
soft breath. Her heart felt heavy, and her muscles numb after Ethan’s last words. If he was going out at
night, knowing his reputation, it likely meant he was going to share the companionship of other
women. Her fists clenched and she couldn’t help but feel he was treating her the same way as
everyone else; someone who did as they were told, someone whose thoughts and feelings were
secondary.
Perhaps there was a way to keep him at the castle. If she showed him that staying with her was far
better a prospect than seeking the company of another, it could change his mind. It was possible. It
was necessary if she wished to make the most of her allotted fourteen days. Shuffling through her
portmanteau, she found and placed a thin, white nightgown on the bed. Shutting her eyes for a moment,
she tried to recall all the scandalous words and passages she had read in her romantic novels.
Then, she bit her lip as she cast a discerning glance around the room. The wooden walls were
sheathed in intricately carved patterns. Framing the tall, gothic windows were curtains and draperies,
their hues a rich, royal red. Nestled within the back wall, a hearth served as the room’s heart, its
flickering flames casting an intimate glow throughout the chamber. The air here was vibrant and pure,
carrying the faint scent of some floral musk.
It was the perfect ambiance for what she was planning to do if he did truly arrive to check up on
her, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t find an ounce of uncertainty in her sultry intentions.

Ethan made his way toward Meredith’s bedchamber, and couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of guilt
in his each step. Yes, if he was being honest with himself, he had been a cad to the young lady from
the very start. She seemed unhappy as it was—one could hardly remain positive when your only
family was dead set on selling you off with no regard for you.
He paused, then took a deep breath as he reached the door to her chambers. It was only fourteen
days. Fourteen days and they would both acquire their freedom as agreed, and he wouldn't have to
bear the immorality of this arrangement any longer. He would keep his distance as planned, but first,
he felt the need to check on her.
His hand reached up to open the door, but he paused once more, contemplating what etiquette
would demand of him considering their sham marriage. She was indeed his wife by letter of the law,
but by all other standards, they might as well be strangers.
Etiquette be damned!
With no little caution, he opened the door and stepped into her chamber. Meredith’s gaze
immediately fell on him as she lay on her bed in a silk nightgown, the fabric scandalously sheer. The
light from the hearth lit her figure and illuminated the outline of her hard nipples alongside the rest of
her sensual proportions. He grew speechless as she smoothly lifted herself from the bed with her
elbows and then glided to her feet to tread a single, light step in his direction.
A warm, enchanting orange hue reflected off the white silk, and she tentatively slid down one of
her sleeves, revealing her firm, round breasts. She did the same with the other side and her nightgown
fell to the floor, almost daring him to look upon her naked body. Her uncovered nipples caught fire in
his lustful gaze, her bare skin glowing in the firelight.
In a daring moment of silence, she stepped toward him, and his breath caught in his throat as he
fell hypnotized by the sway of her hips. His arousal throbbed within his breeches and he could hardly
control his obvious physical reaction to her the closer she arrived. Once she finally reached him, his
gaze drifted down to her body, and his forearm, against great restraint, reached around the nape of her
neck, as his other hand caressed her breast.
Her body tensed and he knew she was enjoying it. It took everything in him not to react further, not
to take her right now without a hint of hesitation. But she was too innocent and he was unsure if she
even knew what she was doing. She held the grace of an angel and the complexion of a goddess. But
more than that, she never looked away from him, and the determination in her eyes sent a chill up his
spine as she stepped into him, until their bodies were almost touching.
And then, she rose to her toes, clutched the lapels of his coat, and kissed him. Her soft, full lips
brushed against his own and his mouth automatically moved with hers. She felt so small and fragile in
his hands and her bare skin, now pressed up against him, had him fighting the urge to unleash his
animalistic side. Soft, sweet moans escaped from her throat and he captured each one of them with
delicate kisses.
A barely suppressed moan escaped him as his arm swung around her waist to her rear and pulled
her frame tighter into him, his hardness pressing against her hips, showing her what she was truly
doing to him. His hands were gentle as they explored every delicate inch of her body, tracing down
the contours of her neck, to her waist, and to her rump, coming close to her most intimate area but
never touching it. It felt as though he could only stare at every inch of her body before finally settling
on her nipples, which he teased gently with his lips. She arched her back, gasping in lustful arousal at
the sensation, and moaned when his mouth closed around one of them.
Slowly but surely, his fingers began to drift towards her most intimate place, desperate to
pleasure her. But he felt her tense up again. This time, however, it was followed by a sharp inhale.
She stilled beneath his touch and he felt a hand press against his chest, pushing him away.

My goodness, what am I doing?

Meredith’s body was burning like fire, but she was desperately trying to cover her bare form.
Intoxicated by his sheer presence as she was, she still knew she wasn’t ready for this.
 “...I-I’m sorry, I do not…” Her voice trailed off before she could finish her thought.
Ethan instantly stopped and put some distance between them and then cleared his throat. He
looked almost as if he were in pain. She used one hand to cover her breasts and the other to search for
her nightgown which lay in a heap on the rug-covered floor.
He nodded, understanding her unspoken message, and gently averted his gaze. “I…I should
apologize. I succumbed to impulse, it won't happen again.”
“Oh…” she uttered as a strange feeling overtook her. It wouldn’t happen again? Had she just taken
a step back with him?
He cleared his throat and haphazardly fixed his collar in want of distraction. “I will be taking my
leave now. Goodnight, Meredith.”
“Yes. Goodnight, Ethan…”
The door shut softly and Meredith’s heart sank. She threw on her nightgown loosely and groaned
in frustration at herself. Her back touched the soft featherbed, and she hugged a pillow for comfort.
Why would she attempt something so bold when she knew she was not capable of such an act? She
most certainly wasn’t ready, yet she hoped she could use it as an incentive to keep Ethan with her for
the night. Now, even the thought of what had just occurred colored her up. How could she face him
again?
Heavens. What must he think of me? I should begin with smaller steps.
There were a lot of things she wished to do for herself, with Ethan. Some that would perhaps hold
little significance to others but trivial pleasures she wished to experience nonetheless, and others that
caused her to blush in embarrassment to even think on. If she were to find her courage during the next
two weeks, she needed to make a clear list and a clear plan of how she was going to achieve it all.
Her romance novels were the inspiration for everything and she focused on them as she stretched one
finger upward, counting.
“A romantic dinner. That shall certainly be a priority,” she said thoughtfully to herself, extending
one finger. “We will share a dance at a ball,” she paused, her finger resting on her chin as she thought
more, “an outdoors picnic for just the two of us…and partake in something he enjoys doing.”
Meredith nodded at herself as she went over the list. Yes, this would suffice for now. Although
their marriage was merely superficial and temporary, it didn’t mean she couldn’t take joy and
pleasure from it. For the remainder of the fourteen days, she would try to complete each item on her
list with Ethan and enjoy every moment of it.
 CHAP T E R 4

M eredith pressed her ear against the cold oak door of her chambers, straining to hear any
sound from the other side. She was waiting for the telltale slam of a door, the signal that the
Duke had left the castle. Ever since the embarrassing incident on their wedding night, she had been
actively avoiding Ethan, consumed with anxiety at the mere thought of being the focus of his sharp
gaze once more. A task made quite simple by his unusual, but consistent, morning routines.
She would face him eventually, but only when she was certain the incident had been put out of
sight and out of mind by him. In the meanwhile, she had already begun planning on how she would
complete the first item on her list: a romantic dinner. She had chosen the perfect setting for it—a
specific spare room on the uppermost floor of the castle, overlooking the gardens.
Soon, the familiar thud reached her room and her muscles relaxed. Confident the grounds were
clear, she straightened her posture, smoothed her muslin gown, and then moved to open the door.
Before it could fully open, however, Meredith started and took a step back at the sight of a larger
figure, then quickly relaxed upon realizing it was just her lady’s maid, Lucinda.
"Your Grace," Lucinda said, curtsying.
Meredith gave a small, relieved smile. “Good morning, Lucinda.”
Lucinda was an early middle-aged woman with a relatively bulky build. Her dark hair was deftly
hidden beneath a white maid’s cap and her face was lined with wrinkles. She was dressed quite
simply in a loose-fitting gray gown with white trim, cotton petticoats, and a white apron. Despite her
frail and soft voice, Meredith had seen the woman lift whole furniture with her hands. Since
Meredith’s arrival, she had been dressing herself, yet Lucinda continued to insist on helping her every
morning.
"I see you are already dressed," Lucinda noted, tutting. "If you require any assistance, then please,
I am here. It would not be good to tire yourself."
"Thank you, Lucinda, but old habits. However, I was on my way to break my fast. Perhaps you can
guide me to the dining room? A different way this time?"
Lucinda nodded, beaming her approval. "Of course, Your Grace. Come with me."
Each morning, Meredith made it her mission to explore a different part of Penrose Castle.
Therefore, she had been asking Lucinda, who was more than happy to oblige, in guiding her to the
dining room through different routes.
As they both walked deeper into the hallway, Meredith soaked in the rich, subtle blend of
bergamot and sandalwood—Ethan’s hallmark fragrance. The walls were paneled in oak wood and the
floor was lined with white marble, concealed carefully by thick maroon Axminster carpets. There
were well over ten rooms in this corridor alone, and the further they walked through the castle, the
more of them she saw, each door marked with something distinct that indicated its use. Every day,
around this time to be certain, there were dozens of workers bustling about the area, sweeping and
dusting every corner.
"Has Ethan–His Grace left?" Meredith asked, her eyes fixed forward and her expression stoic.
Lucinda turned to face her. "Yes, I believe he has."
“I see,” she replied. “…Did he ask about me?”
Lucinda didn’t seem to react much, her face remaining neutral. “I do not believe so. He has been
spending quite a bit of time outside the castle, as usual.”
Meredith gave a subdued nod. Lucinda’s words stung, but it was a reality she had to get used to.
She didn’t dare ask where exactly he was going – she wasn’t sure if she would like the answer, to
begin with. They were only bound by name after all and they would separate in a fortnight, so it
should not be any of her business what he did in his personal time. But yet, it still bothered her.
They passed a new room this time with an open door and Meredith couldn't stop herself from
glancing inside due to the peculiar scent of leather tobacco that wafted in her direction.
Lucinda noticed Meredith’s interest and spoke up, "Oh, this is the billiards room," she said with a
smile that hinted at a trace of melancholy. "I have not been here for long," she continued, "but I have
seen him sneak off to this room at nights a trifle disguised, and leave in a far worse state. I suppose it
must hold a lot of memories for him."
Truly, a hint of rum and gin laced the air and several rows of stout tables were set in place, bolted
to the ground. The lighting was dim, the curtains from the window drawn shut, and two cue sticks of
maple wood were splayed across one of the tables. The maid’s words piqued something in her, but
she set it aside for now.
Meredith and Lucinda continued their stroll down the hallway, their footsteps pitter-pattering. As
they turned a corner, Meredith's shoulder bumped into something of a stone sculpture. She gasped and
stumbled back, only then looking up to find it was the Duke standing in front of her. As always, he
looked exceedingly dashing in his black tailcoat with his dark hair in an organized chaos. Her cheeks
flushed red as she hastily curtsied and stammered out an apology.
The Duke's hazel eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat too long, before he adjusted his now out-of-
place cream cravat and then spoke. "I hope you are well," he said, his voice polite but distant.
Meredith tried to avoid his gaze, feeling a twinge of embarrassment as the memory of their
wedding night entrenched itself in the forefront of her mind. She wondered if it affected him as much
as it did her.
After another moment that passed by too slowly, the Duke cleared his throat. "I wanted to inform
you that I—we will be attending a ball tomorrow evening. This shall be our first and only ball we
will attend as a married couple, so I hope you keep that in mind."
Meredith's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the ball. Although she was sure Ethan would
have them attend an event at some point to parade their union to the ton, it was nerve-racking to think
about. "Oh, I see," she said, trying to sound composed. "That explains the modiste visits as of late."
The Duke nodded, his expression neutral.
He seemed so distant and emotionless, she felt like a fool for remembering what had transpired
between them. He almost certainly was not as affected.
 Not baring to face him any longer, she finally added, “I will be off to take my morning repast.”
“Very well,” he continued.
Meredith nodded and with her maid on her toes, hurried ahead. It took a great deal of effort, but
she managed to keep her eyes forward and not look back.

The sun began to set behind a sheath of gray curtains as the sky molded into a beautiful blend of
orange and pink. Donning his midnight blue greatcoat, Ethan sighed heavily as he made his final
preparations to leave. He had spent the entire week focusing on his one goal: Hartley’s Gambling
Den. It had been a year since he first set his sights on acquiring the establishment, and despite his
overwhelming exertions, it still seemed a touch out of reach. But he was getting closer, he could feel
it.
It wasn't just the acquisition of the den that consumed him. It was everything that came with it. His
fondest memories were tied to the place. However, over the past few years, it had spiraled into a
chaotic mess. The current management had no sense of loyalty and the once esteemed establishment
was losing its power and grace to be soon sold to some coxcomb who would no doubt transform it
into another private club.
It was a painful sight for Ethan to witness, like watching a piece of his childhood slip away from
his grasp. He hoped, with his assistance and newly acquired fortune, he could bring the gambling den
back to its former glory. For him, it wasn't just about acquiring the den, but about preserving the
memories that came with it.
Although he had married Meredith with the intention of saving her, the gambling den was a close
second.
Ethan also couldn’t help but notice Meredith’s barefaced avoidance of him ever since their
wedding night. It both frustrated and roused him a great deal, and each time he thought about it, he
was having to seal shut his doors and drown himself in the amber liquid to contain himself of his
mounting desires. He most certainly could not deny that the memory of her seductively undressing in
front of him still sent shivers down his spine and brought a tightness to his breeches, a longing for far
more. It was pure, carnal physical attraction, he knew as much. It was his nature, after all.
Despite the many women who were vying for his attention, he knew he was a married man now,
so extinguishing the flame of desire as he once would was no longer an option. He found himself
constantly distracted, his thoughts consumed by the image of her full lips on his, her perfectly round
breasts and her soft body pressed against his hardness with such ferocity, never present in any of the
women he had bedded before. Confound her for tempting him.
And if matters couldn’t be worse, there remained a perverse tension between them. One he felt the
responsibility to fix himself. Picking up his top hat hanging loosely on the hat stand, he made to leave,
before noticing his butler strolling down the hallway, a small bundle in hand.
“A moment, Stanley,” Ethan said, removing his tophat and placing it back on the hat stand for a
moment.
His butler turned to face him, nodded, then walked over to him. His graying hair was slicked back
and he bowed neatly.
"Is this the gown prepared for tomorrow’s ball?” Ethan asked.
 “Yes, Your Grace," the butler said, holding out the package in front of him.
Ethan paused for a moment, considering whether he should go see Meredith with the excuse of
delivering her the gown, and try to resolve the situation, or at the very least, make any sort of
headway before tomorrow night. Perhaps if he tried to engage her in civil whiskers, it would make
for the situation to be a lot less awkward when they finally arrived arm in arm at the Skeffington ball.
Blast, he didn’t even know why he cared so much. She was destined to leave in less than a fortnight,
regardless. But at the same time, the thought of being trapped in the castle with a nervous minx didn’t
sound that appealing either.
Smoothly, he took the bundle from the butler and nodded his thanks before dismissing him. He
hesitated for a moment before firming his resolve and deciding to take it to her himself after all.
As he made his way to Meredith's room, his mind grew conflicted. On the one hand, he was eager
to relinquish that aura of awkwardness that surrounded both of them, but on the other, he felt foolish
for even contemplating building on a relationship he had sworn to her he’d discard. What if she chose
to shut the door and refused to face him?
Blast, stop being a coward.
When he arrived at her bedchamber, he drew a deep breath and composed himself. His hand
drifted for the handle before he thought better of it and rapped softly at the polished wooden door
instead. Meredith opened the door and looked at him in question.
As he stepped into her room, the Duke felt a rush of conflicting emotions. He couldn't help but
notice how breathtaking she looked, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her brown eyes
sparkling with curiosity as she gazed unwaveringly at him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what
to say or do, before holding out the bundle in his hands.
"This is for you," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It is your gown, for the ball."
Meredith’s bare feet tread lightly in his direction, and he almost flinched from the memory of a
few nights ago. Her eyes flicked from the gown to him at his hesitation, and she grew a beautiful hue
of rosy before she took it in her hands and made to open it. It was wrapped in exquisite silk, the color
of deep navy blue. The ribbon that held it together was a bright gold, a stark contrast to the dark
fabric. Meredith carefully untied the ribbon, seeming to revel in the feeling of the smooth fabric
slipping through her fingers.
She lifted her gaze to meet his, a tender smile blooming on her lips. “Thank you.” Her
appreciation seemed genuine and it caused him to feel some sort of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long
time.
He cleared his throat, having not expected himself to be so affected by her mere presence. "I'm
glad you like it," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Quietness prevailed once more. He had to remind himself of why he was here in the first place.
"At the ball tomorrow night,” he started, “It would be shrewd for us to behave as a married
couple should. It would do much to convince people that our marriage is more than just an act."
Meredith’s brown eyes glistened as she nodded. “I understand. I was thinking something similar.”
"Splendid… I suppose I will see you tomorrow then," he said with a disarming grin.
“You shall.”
A thought snapped to Ethan’s mind just then. “Oh. And I have been hearing from my servants that
you do not seem to feel comfortable using their services borne from your more economical
upbringing.” He paused, hoping for an explanation, but when he was not met with one, he continued,
“If you would like any assistance with the gown tomorrow evening, I would ask—”
Meredith’s head perked up suddenly and her face flushed. “Oh, that would not be necessary,” she
quickly interrupted. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to.”
Ethan’s brows furrowed in confusion at her comment. However, as the meaning of her words sank
in, his eyes widened in surprise. “No, no! I was merely suggesting you should request the aid of dear
Lucinda,” he rushed.
Meredith locked gazes with him, her expression one of confusion. After a small moment of
silence, she seemed to catch up too, and abruptly burst into laughter. Her innocently contagious mirth
tugged at the corners of Ethan’s lips as he struggled to hold together his composed demeanor.
“Good Heavens, I must seem quite the fool,” she managed, catching her breath between words.
“Of course, thank you, Ethan.”
This unguarded display from Meredith was new to him, and he found himself hoping to see this
side of her more often.
 CHAP T E R 5

M eredith stepped out of the carriage and onto the winding path that led through the fragrant
rose gardens, her heart pounding against her chest like a frantic drum. The weight of the
occasion hung heavy in the air, and she struggled to maintain her composure. The ball was already
underway and her gloved hands were trembling at the chill in the air and the uncertainty of the
forthcoming night. She glanced over at Ethan. His tall frame towered over her, and his handsome
features betrayed no hint of the anxiety she harbored.
As they approached a white stone arch bespeaking the entrance to the ballroom, Meredith's palms
grew clammy. She took a deep breath, willing herself to keep her nerves at bay. Ethan seemed to
sense her nervousness. Without a word, he draped his arm around her waist, pulling her protectively
into his embrace. Meredith flinched at his unexpected gesture, uncertain of how to react.
Her confidence was further elevated thanks to the gown Ethan chose for her. The cream silk of the
ball gown had a subtle sheen to it. The embroidery was done in a soft, golden thread that
complemented the creamy hue of the silk, while the tiny pearls that adorned the lace skirt were a pure,
shimmering white.
Upon reaching the entrance of the grand estate, they were greeted by tall double doors, their dark
wood starkly contrasting the dimly lit entrance room and the brightly illuminated ballroom that lay
beyond. A few more steps and their shoes would touch the gleaming marble floor, where a soft light
mingled with the golden glow of a chandelier and an assortment of fragrances mixed at the entrance to
a temple of music.
As they were introduced to the ballroom, Ethan’s grasp on Meredith’s waist tightened. Heat
tingled under her skin there, prickling outward from her face. She could sense the dozens of eyes
immediately fall upon her, feel their gazes graze across her skin. It was their first real outing as a
married couple and reservation pricked at her at all the expectations that now lay upon her as a
duchess. A group of women murmured behind their fans a little to her right, and she felt compelled to
try to listen, afraid they might be speaking of her.
“Truly, you are the belle of the ball,” Ethan whispered as they ventured deeper into the crowd.
“Quite a fortunate man I am to be on the arm of a sight that could draw so many eyes.”
Ethan’s compliment did little to dissuade the color from her cheeks. “Far from it,” she said,
denying his words. “It is the ballgown. It does well to embellish my appearance. I understand you
chose the design yourself, how did you manage to find something that would look so well on me, I
wonder.”
 “Having observed you from such an intimate distance, it was no difficult task,” he said
nonchalantly, causing Meredith to halt in surprise. When she noticed him continue forward without
breaking a step, she sped up toward him again.
“Please do not say such things,” Meredith chided quietly. “Not in front of prying ears.”
“So, I presume you would rather hear such things in the privacy of our chambers instead?” Ethan
grinned.
Meredith did not reply to that comment. It tugged at her heart to imagine such a thing, but she knew
him too well now to understand he was likely just teasing her as he so often did.
They continued further toward the majestic back wall, and Meredith saw a cluster of individuals
who nodded and smiled, seemingly being well acquainted with Ethan. She felt as if she was an
intruder as they reached closer, but there was not a hint of displeasure in their faces at her presence.
A dashing gentleman around Ethan's age appeared before her after greeting Ethan, taking her hand
gently in his. "Your Grace," he said with a charming smile, "Frederick Rupert, Earl of Rutterdam, at
your service. I've heard tales of your beauty from my friend here, but I must say, they do not do you
justice."
"Thank you," she replied, "You are far too kind, My Lord." The compliment seemed genuine and it
helped put her at some ease.
The gentleman leaned in closer, his voice low, "I would be honored to share a dance with you
tonight, Your Grace. If Allerton would permit it, that is.”
Meredith hesitated for a moment, feeling unsure at the request. She was not quite ready to be the
center of attention on the dance floor just yet... Her one goal this evening was to summon up the
courage to dance with Ethan to strike an item off her list, and that would be enough to satiate her
appetite for the rest of the night.
Before she could reply, Ethan inched closer to her side, a stern expression on his face. "I'm afraid
we won’t be staying for long enough to warrant such a thing, Rutterdam," he said, his voice carrying a
note of warning.
“I must decline your offer, My Lord,” Meredith quickly added to defuse the situation.
The Earl raised his hands in mock surrender, his charming smile never faltering. “As you wish,
Lady Meredith,” he said as he bowed. “A rare but valued appearance, Allerton. This one will go
down in the history books, I’m sure.”
Meredith watched as he camouflaged into the crowd effortlessly, another reminder of how little
she felt she belonged. Soft music started playing, the elegant strains of a string quartet, and couples
began flooding the dance floor in waves. Meredith watched with envy and wonder, clasping her
hands together.
Ethan does not seem like one to dance. He hardly makes appearances at societal events. But I
may not get a better opportunity.
It struck her then that she should have perhaps had this conversation beforehand with him. He may
have been more inclined to acquiesce if she had.
“Meredith,” he said, and Meredith turned to face him, hope rising in her chest.
“Yes?” she replied with a hopeful expression.
“Excuse me for a moment, I have a matter to attend to. I won’t be long,” he finally said, his face
distracted and focused on something else entirely. “We will be out of here soon, don’t worry.”
In want of something better to say, she nodded her head slowly. He didn’t seem to realize her
desires written plain across her face and seemed as emotionally distant as she expected him to be. He
took a last good look at her and she flashed him a smile of reassurance. And then she watched as he
walked away.
She was left alone, swept up in the tides of passing strangers. A strange but uncomfortable
familiarity drifted through her, a reminder of her coming out and her loneliness then. Her back touched
the cold, solid outer wall of the ballroom and she scoured over the sea of people, searching for a
familiar face. Perhaps her cousin would be in attendance if she were lucky enough, or a friend or
even a passing acquaintance.
Over the next half an hour, Meredith did her best to avoid the judgemental glances of strangers, as
an uneasiness cavorted in her stomach. It took a few more minutes before her eyes finally found a
familiar figure approaching her. It was Lady Harriet. Her wish was coming true in an unwanted way.
Harriet made her way towards her, her golden hair cascading down her face like a waterfall of
silk. Her lips were turned upwards into a sly smile, and she had a satisfied air about her. Next to her,
a man with perfectly slicked-back hair walked with his back straight, his face unnerved and
unfocused. As they approached Meredith, she braced herself.
“Ah, Lady Meredith,” Harriet said. “Or should I say, Your Grace? It is quite the pleasure to see
you here under such auspicious circumstances.”
“The pleasure is all mine, My Lady,” Meredith replied, trying to appear as kind as one could be.
Then she curtsied for the gentleman. “Your Lordship.”
The man simply bowed in acknowledgment, not introducing himself.
Lady Harriet continued. “I must say, you stand out well against the crowd. You always knew how
to be the cynosure of all eyes.”
“I am sure I do not know what you mean, My Lady,” Meredith said, searching around for any
means of rescue.
“But your gown, Your Grace. It is exquisite.” Harriet’s voice pitched higher with an unusual
excitement. “Do you not agree, Geoffrey?”
The man next to Harriet watched her, his gaze traveling from her face down to her feet. Meredith
forced a fake smile, trying not to reveal her uncomfortableness at being examined in such a way by
any man who wasn’t Ethan. The last thing she wanted was to show any vulnerability in front of
Harriet; it would only serve as a disadvantage, something she wouldn’t hesitate to use against her.
“Truly,” the man said flatly.
“It is indeed a shame His Grace is not by your side. How he could abandon such a treasure to a
flock of Lords that, I’m sure, must be lining up to introduce themselves to his wife is beyond me,”
Harriet continued, shrugging. “Where precisely is His Grace?”
Meredith froze in place, her gloved fingers twitching nervously. She carefully glanced around the
ballroom, trying to remain discreet, but there was still no sign of Ethan. He had said he would be right
back, but it hardly mattered now. She was beginning to feel faint.
“I appreciate the concern. He…has gone to fetch some punch for the two of us. It is going to be a
long night, after all,” Meredith lied.
“How unfortunate. We just arrived from the refreshment table but must have missed him,” Lord
Geoffrey added, the tone in his voice betraying his true thoughts. Harriet’s blue eyes twinkled in
mischief as she too immediately caught onto the lie. It took great restraint for Meredith to not run
away with her face between her hands right then. The night was not going as planned.
 A twinge of despondence captured her throat, and Meredith feared uttering her next words lest her
voice crack and she make an even bigger fool of herself. “Yes. Unfortunate…”
“Pardon me for being so direct,” Harriet said, feeling more confident now that she was not
receiving any pushback. “It is my nature, after all. But how did you manage to ensnare that elusive
Duke? He clearly does not wish to be in your company. Was it truly threat of scandal that entwined
your fates—"
“Ah, I see you’ve assembled yourself a crowd,” Ethan engaged as he strode toward the three of
them smoothly.
“Your Grace,” Harriet exclaimed, bowing. The man beside her did the same.
“Save me the pleasantries. But if you wish to explain to my wife more about my feelings towards
her, please do not let me interrupt you,” he began with a wide grin.
Harriet grew scarlet and Lord Geoffrey took a step forward as if to shield her. As silly as it all
appeared, Meredith still felt a little envious of this gesture. “Allerton, my good man. We were just
speaking of you,” he said.
“Lord Geoffrey. The next time you wish to stand back while your lady hurls allegations at my
wife, just remember, it could cost you a fortune.” Ethan went around to Meredith and put an arm
around her affectionately as she stiffened against his hard body. “My wife and I love each other. That
is more than can be said about many couples of this ton. In fact, need I remind you of your own
opinions on marriage?”
Geoffrey’s face blanched at this comment and Meredith suddenly grew wary of the subdued anger
now reigning in Ethan’s voice. She nudged him a little to try to quieten him, but to no avail.
“Perhaps we should—” Meredith began but was quickly interrupted by Ethan’s hard voice as he
turned to Harriet.
“In fact, Lady Harriet, you should know we engaged in a lively debate on this very subject at
Hartley’s but a fortnight ago,” he said.
Meredith grew distressed and tugged at the tails of his tailcoat more urgently this time, a vain
effort to quell the verbal assault he seemed so intent on unleashing.
“Oh?” Harriet replied faintly.
“Your Grace…” Geoffrey began.
Ethan tilted his head. “Your Grace? I say, quite a fortunate time to relearn social etiquette, old
chap—”
Meredith pushed herself out of his tight grip. Then, she began to walk away in the opposite
direction through a throng of guests who had not yet noticed the commotion building up.
It was only after she had accumulated quite the distance between herself and the others that she
felt a hand on her wrist that spun her around.
“What happened?” Ethan asked in a hushed tone to avoid eyes falling onto them. A feeling crept in
Meredith’s chest, an irritation, less aimed toward Ethan’s words at Harriet and Geoffrey, and more at
the fact that he felt he should be the one to uphold that responsibility to defend her after abandoning
her to some corner of a ballroom during the second formal ball she had ever attended.
When he was met with silence, he continued, “They deserved nothing less. Do not expect me to
show compassion to gossips or those who attack people close to me. I was trying to defend you.”
Meredith grasped his wrist and broke his grip on her arm. “People close to you? What gives you
the right to defend me?” she asked.
 “You are my wife now. I have every right.”
Her anger dissipated at his exclamation of her as his wife but was replaced with an
overwhelming sense of desolation. Like the feeling of being given something and then waiting for it to
be snatched from you. She took a step back. “Well, I don’t need you to defend me. I just needed you to
be there instead of tossing me away like some bird feed.” Then, she spun around again and walked
away once more.
 CHAP T E R 6

E than watched as Meredith retreated, her cream gown billowing behind her with a cloud-like
grace. He couldn't deny the sting of her words, and he knew that he had failed her in some
way. In that moment, he was struck with the realization that he couldn't simply let her walk away.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Ethan quickly followed Meredith, catching up to her just as the
orchestra stirred to life with a lively tune for the next dance. And without allowing her to protest, he
gently captured her hand in his, leading her towards the dance floor with determined steps. The music
swelled around them as they began the Quadrille, and he felt her stiffen in his embrace. He cared not
if his actions came off as bold or desperate; he yearned to make things right.
At first, they danced in silence. As if they were the only two people in the room. The only sounds
between them were the swishing of their clothes and the rapid beating of their hearts. As they glided
through the steps, Ethan found himself entranced, captivated by Meredith's radiant but reserved
beauty. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she kept her gaze downcast. The cream gown accentuated
her figure and the candlelight danced on her skin, casting a warm glow on her delicate features. A
loose curl had escaped her pinned hair and framed her face, and Ethan fought the urge to tuck it
behind her ear.
As the dance continued, Meredith’s gaze finally lifted to meet his, and her eyes shimmered with a
mixture of curiosity and vulnerability. Finally, she broke the silence.
"Where do you go every evening?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.
Ethan hesitated for a moment, considering how much he should reveal. "I have business at a
gambling den," he admitted, deciding to be vague but honest. "I have visited it every night since my
childhood.”
"Childhood? But why?" she pressed, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.
Ethan sighed. "It's...complicated," he replied, not wanting to delve too deeply into his past just
yet.
Meredith searched his face, as if trying to read the emotions he had locked away. "Why do you
never speak of your past, your family?"
He couldn't deny the surprise that flickered across his face. This wasn't a topic he had expected to
discuss, but he could see the genuine question in her eyes. "My father was a cruel and distant man. It's
not a past I enjoy discussing," he replied tersely, hoping she would let the matter drop.
Meredith nodded, understanding his reluctance to share more. She hesitated before changing the
subject. For a moment, he could sense the clockwork ticking away in her mind. Then, she began again,
catching him off-guard once more. “What is your favorite memory from your childhood?"
Ethan was taken aback by the personal question, but he felt he owed her a sincere response for
once this night. His thoughts traveled back, long before he had inherited the Dukedom, before his
father had all but disowned him. "When I was a boy, someone close to me once took me to a fair. We
spent the entire day trying out all the games and stuffing our faces with sweetmeats. Needless to say,
the late Duke,” he interrupted himself, “my father, wasn’t too happy with me behaving like a street
urchin,” he finished slowly.
Meredith relaxed, a faint smile playing across her delicate lips as she listened to his story. "Well,
that sounds like a lovely day," she murmured.
Encouraged by her response, Ethan decided to ask her a question of his own. "And I suppose you
must have an abundance of cherished recollections from your past?"
She appeared thoughtful as she considered her answer. "I... I once spent an entire day reading in
the garden with my father. He rarely found time for me ever since my mother’s passing, so that day
was special. It was the last time I ever felt like I had a conventional family."
Ethan found himself bewitched by the sincerity in her voice, the way her face lit up as she
recounted her treasured memory. He couldn't help but tease her, wanting to see her smile again. "You
always did have your nose in a book, didn't you?"
Meredith's blush deepened even further, but she couldn't suppress a grin. "I suppose I did," she
admitted, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Books were my escape, my friends when I had none."
Ethan's heart softened at her words. "Well, now you have me," he said, only half-jokingly. "And I
assure you, I can be far more entertaining than any novel."
She raised an eyebrow as her smile turned into a playful smirk. "Is that a challenge, Ethan
Connolly?"
"Perhaps it is, Meredith Connolly," he replied in turn, his own smirk mirroring hers.
As they swayed in rhythm with the music, Ethan was struck by how different Meredith seemed.
Gone was the shy, reserved young woman he had first met, replaced by a woman who was slowly
learning to assert herself. It was a change he couldn't help but admire.
The music began to wind down, signaling the end of the dance. As the final notes faded, Ethan
reluctantly released Meredith from his embrace. Their conversation had been more personal than he
had ever intended, but he couldn't deny the connection he felt to her. He may not have been ready to
fully open up, but she had managed to chip away at the walls he had so carefully constructed around
himself. With impressive ease.
 CHAP T E R 7

M eredith's heels clicked gently against the stone floor as she made her way toward Ethan's
study, feeling more spirited than usual.
That’s one item off the list, she thought to herself. After unexpectedly completing one of her self-
imposed tasks—dancing with her husband—she held a newfound sense of confidence.
Presently, she wore a vibrant, slim, crimson gown with a daringly low neckline and a slit, of her
own making, revealing portions of her thigh and stocking. Subtle golden embroidery adorned the hem.
She had draped a black shawl over herself as she traversed the hallways, not wanting to be seen like
this by anyone—except Ethan.
Meredith knew that persuading her husband to remain at the castle during the evening would be
challenging, and she did not have the days to keep trying and failing. Thus, she decided to entice him
into staying for dinner with her. The idea had initially seemed foolish, but after a bit of Dutch
courage, the whole set-up appeared perfect. Earlier in the day, she had strategically placed a note on
his desk, inviting him to join her in the evening, setting her plan in motion. Then, she spent the rest of
the day getting dressed up, and soon, it was time to meet with him.
Inhaling deeply to compose herself, she knocked on the sturdy door of Ethan's study, then waited
patiently for a response. Upon being met with silence, she cautiously pressed her ear against the door,
listening for any sign of footsteps, but none came.
Has he perhaps left already for the evening? Maybe he simply missed my note asking him to
stay for tonight.
She opened the door, and a gust of wind caressed her face from an open window as she searched
for any sign of Ethan. But he wasn't there. Meredith squinted from where she stood, checking if her
note was still on the writing desk.
Once she realized it was gone, likely taken by Ethan himself, she shook her head.
So he didn’t miss it.
She sighed and left the doorway with slow steps, her head hanging low in disappointment. It felt
like another setback to her plans. After their prior conversation during the ballroom dance, she had
felt she’d made some progress in their relationship. Unfortunately, it now seemed she had been
foolish for harboring such hopes.
"Your Grace," a familiar deep voice intoned. Meredith raised her head and saw Mr. Stanley, the
butler, heading her way. "Do you require any assistance?”
Meredith composed herself and offered him a small smile. "Oh, Mr. Stanley. I was wondering if
you knew whether Ethan had already left for the evening?"
Mr. Stanley nodded gravely, holding his hands behind his back. "I believe His Grace departed
less than a quarter of an hour ago."
"Oh, I see," she said with a small voice. "Thank you. That will be all."
"At your service, Your Grace," he said, bowing.
Meredith watched the butler leave as the rain that trampled against the outer castle walls drowned
out the sounds of his vanishing footsteps, all serving to amplify her loneliness.
After his departure, she began her slow, heavy trudge up the stairs to the second floor of the
castle, and to the room she had prepared for their little tryst. She entered inside but her shoulders
slumped, and a pang of disappointment pierced her heart. It had taken her a week to prepare the room.
Was it all for nothing?
A table for two stood in the center of the room, illuminated by two candelabras placed in a
symmetrical position with a porcelain vase filled with flowers in the middle. It was a beautiful sight.
The flickering light on the table cast shadows around the rest of the room and caused the burgundy
curtains to shine a brighter shade in some areas, almost like glimmers of gold. The scent of wine and
freshly roasted turkey wafted through the room but she no longer had the appetite.
She took a seat, crossing her legs as she allowed her gaze to take in the room one final time. She
felt silly and pitiful, expecting Ethan to join her even at this moment. Her hand closed around a glass
of special château wine, one she had personally unearthed from Ethan’s cellar, and she took a large
gulp, downing the drink in a single, unceremonious swallow.
"I’m such a fool," she grumbled to herself while pouring yet another glass.
Her first thought was to abandon her list and not bother anymore. And for the following week, she
would live like an outcast until it was time for her to move away and gain her freedom. Blinking back
tears, she swallowed down yet another glass.
She set the final glass down with a thump and the ring it accompanied caused her to recoil. But
with it came a knock on the door. Assuming it was one of the servants, she didn’t respond right away.
But the rapping sounded again, persistent and sharp, an assault on her ears. Finally, she got out of her
chair and made her way to the door, but it suddenly went quiet. Hopefully whoever was out there had
left. Just as she was about to turn away, it sounded for a third time, this time with more urgency.
Meredith’s hands clutched the handle and she slowly opened the door as it creaked on its hinges.
Her breath faltered as her eyes set on a gold-studded blue waistcoat with tall standing collars. Slowly
lifting her gaze above the ruffles of a fine linen shirt, it finally rested on a sharp and handsome face. It
was Ethan, standing at the door. His bergamot and sandalwood fragrance reached her nostrils,
ensuring her it was all real, and he calmly stood there, with his hands behind his back and his boots
tapping the floor in expectation.
Once he noticed the door was open, he turned his head in her direction. Meredith’s body flushed
and her cheeks burned pink as she became acutely aware of her scandalous state of dress. With the
realization, she swung the door half-shut and remained barely concealed by the gap that now
separated her body from Ethan’s eyes. She only allowed her head to peek out.
My goodness, how can I let him see me wearing this? Better yet, what was I thinking wearing
this?
“Y-yes?” a soft sound escaped her throat.
Ethan angled himself carefully as he tried to sneak a glance into the room. “Were you trying to
keep it hidden? I had to acquire the help of five servants to solve the riddle of what the ‘room with
the furniture covered in cloth’ could possibly be. Needless to say, you have not seen much of Penrose
yet to come up with such a vague description,” Ethan explained as he pressed his hand against the
door to open it. Meredith placed the same pressure back, halting his progress.
“W-wait!” she quickly said. Her body tensed against the cold door and Ethan stopped dead in his
tracks for a moment, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “I—the room, it needs some—”
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind waiting inside, it’s chilly out here,” Ethan added before she could
finish her sentence, shuddering to emphasize his point. Then, in one swift motion, he pushed past the
door and strolled into the room.
Meredith’s arms crossed over her upper chest as she covered herself, her skin turning to match the
hue of her crimson gown. There was a large opening at the center of her dress, revealing most of her
bosom, a scandalous sight she no longer had the confidence to share with her husband.
Ethan seemed fascinated by the haphazard movement and his hazel eyes lingered on her frame in
boyish wonder before he inched closer, so close she could almost feel the warmth of his body through
their clothes.
Then, with gentleness, his strong hands enveloped her delicate ones, and he pulled them apart
little by little, revealing her before him. As her chest came into full view, his eyes lit up in avarice,
and he seemed to bite his tongue inside his mouth before finally saying, “Is this what you were trying
to hide from me?”
Meredith shook her head quickly in embarrassment. Too quickly. She turned her back on him, and
then she heard heavy steps make their way toward the center of the room. A chair creaked and Ethan
took a seat, followed by the muffled sound of a leg crossing over the other and the rattling of plates
and glasses.
“I must say, this all looks delightful. Are you going to close the door? The chill will settle into the
room soon,” he noted.
Meredith, in her flustered state, shut the door painfully slowly, her hands trembling slightly. Then,
clenching them into fists, she turned to face him but was still rooted in the spot. Yet again, she had
prepared something for the two of them but lacked the courage to follow through with her plans.
Her moment of hesitation was seized upon by Ethan who quickly rose from his seat. “Ah, my
apologies.” He calmly made his way toward the chair opposite him across the table, “I must admit I
have been bred out of such formal settings.” He pulled out her chair a little and gestured toward it,
“Please?”
The expectation placed on her now helped Meredith break out of her stupor, and she walked to the
chair and took a seat. “I thought you were not going to come,” she mumbled honestly.
“It would be quite impertinent on my part to reject my wife’s request for a private dinner.” He
made his way back to his chair.
Meredith narrowed her eyes, questioning the sincerity of his statement. “You usually—always
leave in the evenings,” she noted. “Even with my note, I was not surprised when I heard you had left
from Mr. Stanley.” It wasn’t a complete lie, of course. A part of her did not believe he would join her,
but she continued to remain hopeful right up to the knock.
“Oh? The paper? It had no distinguishable markings and so I ended up reading it right after I took
my leave. Stanley was not to know. In fact,” he chuckled lightly, pouring himself some wine and
hesitating a little as he noticed her wineglass seemed to have recently been emptied, “I made quite the
fool of myself rushing about the castle trying to find the room you had written of in your note. Made
my way right here as soon as I could.”
Once again, Meredith raised her brows at the legitimacy of his statement. A raging tempest
brewed outside and his hair was pomaded in artful curls, as the rest of him was dressed in a simple
waistcoat over a shirt, and matching breeches. “You were about to leave dressed like that?” she asked
dryly.
He raised his wineglass to his lips but faltered at the question. “Ah…no.”
“So you dressed like this for me?” she quickly followed up.
“Well…” He set his wineglass down on the table and faced her, only to be met with a raised brow
and a tight-lipped, terribly disguised grin. “I suppose you could say that.”
 CHAP T E R 8

U pon hearing his words, Meredith's hands gracefully moved to the place setting before her. She
cut into some food with an unwaveringly charming smile. He followed suit, and they both
began to eat the delicious turkey Meredith had meticulously planned with Lucinda and Cook to
service this evening.
It felt as though almost an hour had passed by with only the sounds of cutlery tapping against
plates, wine swishing in glasses, and rain beating against the leaded glass window to fill the
comfortable silence in the air between them. With it all, however, grew a sense of urgency in
Meredith as she spent the minutes away pondering how she could best make use of her time with
Ethan now that she had managed to have him alone.
She was bursting with questions and Ethan seemed to sense it as he finally set down his knife and
fork, and cleared his throat. “Well?”
Meredith raised her head, and a few strands of her carefully pinned-up hair fell against her
temples. “Yes?” she queried.
"You've seemed quite distracted for the better part of an hour. Is there something on your mind
you’d like to share?" Ethan prodded.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Meredith fluttered her lashes innocently at him. But he
simply crossed his arms, causing her façade to crumble. At that, she, too, set down her cutlery.
Meredith was of the mind to ask him what she truly wanted to know—what he spent every evening
and night doing, but didn’t know how to ask him without overstepping the boundaries they had set.
Though they were married, they had promised never to pry into each other’s personal affairs. Instead,
quite shrewdly, she asked, “Why do you never join me for dinner at the castle?”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy dining here, nor spending any time here at all, truth be
told. Would you not prefer dining in the comfort of your own home? It is as simple an explanation as
that.”
Meredith tilted her head slightly. “But this is your home, is it not?”
“It ceased being my home twenty years ago,” Ethan replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. When
he noticed her linger on his words, he took a deep breath and continued. “The former Duke of
Allerton—my father, this was his home. My brother, Jeremiah, raised me. And he would frequent
gentlemen’s clubs and gaming hells. Following in his footsteps, I was practically reared in them.
Specifically at Hartley’s, north of Buckinghamshire. It’s the only remaining link to my past.”
He had a deep look of concentration on his face as he recalled his childhood, but it all crumbled
as his eyes fell upon Meredith’s wide-eyed gaze. “You have a brother? I did not know that,” she said.
“Had a brother. I presume there’s much about my life you’re unaware of. Can’t blame you, few
know its true intricacies beyond overblown gossip, and fewer hear it from me.”
Meredith shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She was well aware of said gossip and in fact, had
confronted him on it unintentionally on the night they met at his ball. Then, his previous words struck
her and her mouth dropped open. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“No need. Sometimes even I question whether the things written about me in those rags are true.”
“I was speaking of your brother,” Meredith added in a smaller voice.
Ethan was suddenly transfixed on her and then he too shifted a little as he swirled the contents of
his wine glass. “Indeed.”
Meredith pursed her lips. Then, unlike herself, she reached across the table and placed her hand
over his. “I lost my mother at a young age. I cannot deign to know how you must have felt as I do not
have many memories of her, but it isn’t all too bad to reminisce over those times.”
Ethan pulled his hand back and glanced around the room for a moment. “I like what you did with
this room. Under me and my servant’s noses,” he grinned, for lack of something better to say.
Meredith suppressed a small smile, upset with his continued refusal to open up but still feeling
appreciated at the acknowledgment of her efforts. She shuffled back in her seat until her spine touched
the backrest of the chair. That was when Ethan looked at her carefully. Really looked at her. Cool
eyes roved up and down her figure, his pupils dilating as he stared. Meredith felt her heart begin to
thud in her chest at such an intimate gesture.
“That gown does well to flaunt your…natural figure,” he added carefully. “I have never seen a
lady outshine such a fine piece of fabric.”
Meredith’s cheeks warmed. She crossed her arms together, suddenly feeling far too exposed
before him, but the gesture emphasized too much of her décolletage. She lowered her arms just as
quickly. “It is an extra piece I had asked the modiste to make for me when she took my measurements
for the ball.”
“It is enchanting,” he gushed, not missing a beat of what she had tried to do. “We should perhaps
commission more gowns like these, they certainly flatter you.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice far too quiet to reach him. “But I do not like having too many
gowns, and neither do I like…flaunting my figure,” she added slowly. “My father would shower me
with in-vogue gowns to make up for my mother’s absence, so I developed an eye for them. I also
began to find it tiresome, however. Constantly trying to keep up with the rest of the ton.”
Ethan looked genuinely bemused for a moment. He picked up the wine bottle and poured some for
himself and her. “Peculiar. I do not know many ladies who would turn down the latest fashionable
accouterments, and I know my fair share. Where would you have rather spent your pin money then?”
A pinch of hurt crossed Meredith’s expression at his words of knowing many women, but it
seemed to pass by him completely as he handed her a wineglass and then took up his own.
All the better for him I guess. I am, after all, only his wife in name.
“I would be satisfied with a good book and a hot cup of tea,” she said. “I know I may be
underselling myself compared to the other exciting women in your life but it is mostly the truth. My
father soon learned that, and in a few months, he had practically moved in a library for me.”
A quietness passed before them and Meredith quickly realized how she had just sounded. Her
shoulders straightened and she was about to take it back, but Ethan almost choked on the wine he had
begun to drink. “You had your father purchase that book for you?” he asked in surprise, his eyes the
size of an owl’s.
Meredith registered his words and suddenly, her eyes grew wide too and she shook her head
frantically. “Heavens no! That was a gift from a good friend of mine.” He was, of course, referring to
the book she was reading when they first met at her coming out.
“Interesting friends you have,” he added with a smirk that somehow had translated into his voice.
“I think so too,” she quickly said, then remained silent as she expected the conversation to change.
It was far too embarrassing to admit to reading these kinds of books, especially to someone like
Ethan.
“I have never been particularly fond of books,” Ethan began again. “This castle has an up-to-date
library, naturally, but it is all to play the part of the refined Duke.”
A thought sprouted in her mind and Meredith decided to at least take the opportunity to
accomplish her goal of finding out what he did during the nights. “So, what would you rather be doing
then?”
“Whist, port, hazard, billiards,” he started, using his hands to count in order to emphasize his
points.
Meredith nodded slowly as she waited for those fated words—how he would also rather be
spending his time in the company of other women. But they never came. Then her mind fell back to the
room she had seen only days prior. According to her lady’s maid, Lucinda, there was a room he
frequented when he was out of sorts. The billiards room. This piqued her curiosity. “I have seen the
billiards room at the castle.”
Ethan nodded. “At the west wing. Belonged to Jeremiah. We would play there every Friday and
on the nights we returned late from balls and other socials. These days, I play by myself.”
Regardless of the subject and what exactly he was talking of, there was not a hint of sadness in his
voice. It was at this point it also became quite clear to Meredith that he had learned to suppress his
past memories. Without missing a beat, she decided to alter one of the items on her list.
Play Billiards with Ethan.
“How did your brother pass?” Meredith asked softly.
“He died when I was eighteen,” Ethan replied bluntly in turn. “Some disease of the heart.” Though
he wavered very little when he spoke, she could sense an underlying bitterness and sadness he had
failed to disguise this time. Her heart swelled at his words and a sting of guilt crossed her for pushing
the subject matter.
“And what of your father?” she continued.
“Passed away six months later, hemorrhaging money from his remaining businesses. Funny how
things work out. I was never the rightful heir to the Dukedom. Never my father’s favorite son, nor did
I ever see myself as a true peer of the realm. Yet here I am, carrying the weight of an ancestry.”
Meredith sat patiently, taking in his words, not wanting to miss the rare opportunity of him
opening up. She was used to seeing him being calculating and emotionally distant, so this was new
territory for her.
He chuckled. “I even found myself a wife. I’ve turned into a right top-of-the-trees fellow. Hell,
only a few years ago I would’ve insulted the man I’ve become.”
Meredith smiled at this too. “So why did you marry me?” she grinned.
Ethan’s dashing smile instantly dropped and it was replaced with a frown. Meredith bit her lip at
this and felt her stomach swirl at the sudden silence, not knowing if she would like the answer to what
she had just asked anymore. It hadn’t taken long after their marriage for her to realize he was an
enigmatic man with no clear motive behind his actions. At first, she assumed he solely married her
because of financial gain, but as the days passed by, she was left unsure and wondering. His hazel
eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips.
"Why did you marry me?" she asked again, her voice slow and deliberate. Her heart pounded in
her chest as she awaited his response.
Ethan gulped, then stared at her more carefully, as if he was unsure if he should answer or not.
She let her hand fall back to the table and Ethan placed his own on top of it. Her skin flashed warm.
“Well,” he started. “Shortly after I met your father, I learned he was intending to marry you off to
Lord Sutton. Even in a world where such matches are common, knowing Lord Sutton's reputation...I
simply couldn't stand by.”
Meredith pulled her hand away. “So you believed a man with your reputation would be better
suited for me?”
A wave of pain—if it could even be called that, washed over Ethan’s expression for just a second
at her action. “I know my reputation isn’t entirely…impeccable. It is not. But I take pride in not being
an abuser. I don’t think my conscience would allow me to see any woman being married off to
someone like that, someone with that history. I would feel…bad for them,” he said, stumbling over his
words as he tried to find the right ones to use.
“I see.” Meredith clasped the fabric of her skirts.
Feel bad for them? So it was pity?
She clenched her jaw shut and bit the inside of her cheeks, trying to control herself. Not only did
her father intend to marry her off to someone like Lord Sutton, but she was learning it all from a
husband that took her in out of pity.
And all this time, I was clutching onto a fragment of hope he saw something in me. I even tried
to seduce him for Heaven’s sake! What must he think of me…
“Meredith, I did not mean it that way—”
“I know,” Meredith interrupted. And she did. But it didn’t make it any less painful. And she didn’t
think she could face him any longer.
In a moment of vulnerability, she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. Then, her voice pained
and distant, she spoke up, “I believe I shall retire to my chambers now. Thank you for your company.”
Ethan stirred, and for a fleeting moment, Meredith thought he might reach out to her. She almost
wished he would as she moved to the door. But as she opened it and shut it behind her, a tragic reality
set in. She knew he wasn’t going to chase after her. This wasn’t that kind of marriage, this wasn’t her
fairytale dream of love. This was her reality.
 CHAP T E R 9

R ain soaked Ethan’s frock coat as he exited the gated castle. He felt suffocated inside, and he
needed to leave. His slicked-back hair was now disheveled and falling over his face
messily, the black locks sticking to his forehead. He slid his hand into his pocket, his soaked fingers
brushing against the crumpled vellum of Meredith’s note.
The mere thought of her seized his muscles with an icy grip, guilt stabbing at his conscience over
and over. He had not intended to wound her so deeply. Only moments later did he realize how hurtful
his words would have sounded to hear to anyone, let alone to a woman like Meredith, who seemed
lost in her own world of romance and love.
“You’re a veritable fool,” he muttered to himself.
Why the devil do I care? We are to part soon anyways, and I won’t be seeing her again. Oh, for
heaven’s sake.
His jaw set tightly, and his boots rooted to the cobblestones as he came to a sudden stop. He
chuckled to himself in disbelief as he realized the implications. Yes, he felt guilty. Yes, he had been a
blackguard. And yes, they would separate very soon. But he couldn’t stop himself. Over the past
week, he found himself irresistibly drawn to her, unable to tear his gaze away whenever she was near.
He was drawn to her silly little quirks, her passion for scandalous books, and her citrus scent that
seemed to permeate his every thought. She was driving him mad.
Ever since their wedding night, he'd yearned to explore the soft allure of her form, from her full
lips that perpetually beckoned, to the tantalizing length of her pale legs that he'd only seen once.
Blast the minx for tempting me. And damn me for wanting to see her.
He couldn’t resist. The image of her being disappointed and hurt was burned in his mind, and he
knew he needed to make things right. Knowing he would be the cause of that smile would bring him
so much joy.
“Regardless of how little time we have left together, I’ll be damned if I don’t make this next week
the best of her life,” he muttered.
Whirling around, he threaded his way back over the garden shrubbery to avoid the risk of slipping
on the slick garden walk. As he neared the entrance doors, he thrust them open forcefully. Perplexed
housemaids stole glances, but he paid them little mind.
He raced up the imperial staircase, his grip on the railing whitening his knuckles as he strode
purposefully in search of his wife, oblivious to his surroundings. He collided with his butler who
promptly offered an apologetic bow.
 “Ah, Stanley,” he stammered, his voice wavering, partially from the chill of the rain and partially
from desperation. “Have you seen my wife? She seems to have…eluded me.”
Stanley stared at him with raised brows, but then quickly recovered. “I believe she retired to her
chambers for the night, Your Grace.”
"Good man,” Ethan said with a curt nod. He continued along the hallway, his Hessians thudding
against the floor as he hastened.
Finally, he reached her chamber. He paused, his heart pounding as he hesitated with one hand
raised. A small part of him was advising against what he was about to do. That he could regret it the
next day, the next week, the next year. But he did not care, not right now.
He knocked on the door, doubtful of his own intentions, and waited for a response.

Tears streamed down Meredith’s cheeks as she sat on the edge of her bed. Of course, he married her
out of pity. This was a loveless marriage after all, and all hope of anything more was a foolish thought
she had once tried to convince herself of. But she would not make that mistake again.
Turning away, she squeezed her eyes shut against her heartache, only to be startled by a soft knock
on the door. It was so soft and faint, she was unsure as to whether she was imagining it.
Wrapping a shawl around her frame, her bare feet touched the wooden floor. She headed to the
door, opening it just an inch to see who it was. Suddenly, the door was thrust open in desperation,
leaving her vulnerable to the intruder. Her mouth dried, and her eyes widened once she saw Ethan
standing before her. His frock coat was damp, and his hair, messy and uneven. A trail of water
dripping from his skin and pooling at her doorway became a refuge for his coat that he let slip from
his shoulders.
“Ethan?” she began, concern etched in her voice. “Are you…are you all right?”
She was interrupted at once as Ethan lunged forward, an arm possessively wrapping around her
waist and a hand settling against her cheek. Suddenly, his lips claimed hers in a kiss, in a daring act
that was unapologetic, desperate, and confusing. The rush of heat it sent through her was euphoric.
His lips, soft as velvet, tasted of an intoxicating blend of mint and tobacco, and as he deepened
the kiss, his passion grew more insistent. He didn’t utter a word, the only sound coming from him a
low groan.
He kicked the door shut behind him and lifted her into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping
around his waist as her gown shifted up, revealing her white stockings that had begun slipping down
her thighs. Her hands moved to his neck, caressing his damp hair. A shudder passed through her as
their bodies melded together, his wet clothing chilling her to the core. But it all disappeared the
moment his hands rested on her rear and a new source of warmth flashed through her whole body,
nestling in her lower stomach and demanding satisfaction.
As he carried her to the bed, he drew back his lips, giving her a chance to breathe. Her breathing
was deep and her thoughts cloudy but she only wished he would continue with his passionate assault.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as if he was exhausted. He set her down on the featherbed.
“I didn’t mean—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean what I said.
It wasn’t right of me to say and I know it might be hard to believe, but I don’t mean to be such a brute
all the time. I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
 She could only watch on in confusion. He reached closer to her, one hand resting on her thigh and
the other traveling around the back of her neck. He gently coaxed her back until half his body lay on
top of hers, and with icy fingers, he slowly began lowering her stockings.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered in a low rumble. “You have no idea the
lengths of control I’ve had to go to stop myself from tearing your bodice and exposing you before me.
To taking you over and over until you’re begging for release. You do not know how much I have tried
to resist…” he paused, his hand drifting over her bare upper thigh as he caressed her soft skin.
“Touching you in your most intimate places. Ravishing you over and over, and finishing inside you.
And showing you all that you could ever crave and so much more...” Ethan paused, moving so close
to her until their noses were touching. “I may not be the best with words, but do you understand me
now?”
Meredith could only nod silently as he uttered those last words. Wetness pooled between her legs
and she tried to resist moaning in protest at his declaration. He returned. He apologized. Her heart
warmed at the thought and her body could no longer resist him. She tilted her chin upward, forcing
their lips to meet, and purred, “Show me then,” and this was all it took for him to lose all semblance
of control.
Ethan’s hand reached her buttocks and gently caressed her there, so slowly and effortlessly that it
caused her toes to curl and her back to arch in pure, unadulterated pleasure. It felt so right to be here
with him. It felt so right to know he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Without a warning,
Ethan nibbled on her bottom lip and she gasped in his mouth.
His strong hand touched the back of her crimson gown, and with one trained movement, he ripped
the fabric off her body, exposing her perfectly round breasts and peaking nipples. She was naked in
front of him, and now, all she wanted was his clothes off. She wanted to feel every inch of his hard
muscles against every inch of her skin, without any barrier or restraint. In spite of her lingering
frustration with him, the rawness of his touches had her succumbing to a seraphic pleasure he was
promising her. She wanted this desperately.
His cold hand grasped her breast, and it set off a new pulse of desire through the intimate area
between her thighs. “You’re such a good girl,” he whispered in her ear teasingly as he raised her legs
to encircle his waist, causing her sex to touch his arousal under his breeches, “…for knowing when to
submit. And I will teach you pleasure in ways that you could never imagine.” His lips fell upon her
exposed neck, kissing and biting her pale skin there.
“I am yours to…do with as you wish…” she tried to utter in between her lustful breaths, but it
barely came out.
Meredith’s body shivered with each word that escaped Ethan’s lips. Her trembling palm pressed
against his taut chest and she struggled to unbutton his linen shirt. With clumsy movements, she finally
managed to, and he responded by encircling her waist with one arm and flipping her over so that she
was straddling him. And then, he loosened and threw off the fabric, tossing it to the side with raw
force.
Meredith sucked in a breath at the sight of his bare chest and she brought her hands over his
muscles there, exploring and massaging him, hoping that it pleased him as much as it did her. He was
so handsome, merely being in his proximity set alight her cheeks.
With both hands trained on her hips, he pressed her harder down against his body and she could
feel his manhood press against her wetness. It caused an almost animalistic groan to release from his
throat, sending goose pimples down Meredith’s spine, and he shifted her hips in a steady and rhythmic
pace against his hardness. This act only made her grow wetter and she felt embarrassed upon
realizing he must’ve felt it. But it only seemed to stoke the fire that was his carnal hunger further, as
he raised himself off the featherbed, sucking her hard nipples, eliciting from her a soft groan of pure
ecstasy.
“Ethan,” she moaned as her head fell back and her fingers interlaced with his damp hair.
A lascivious smirk graced his features and he traced her inner thigh with his hand, sending blissful
shivers of delight the closer he moved to her sex. He was taking his time with her. Meredith was
convinced he was doing all of this on purpose with the intention of teasing her and making her want
this more than she already did—if that was even possible. He knew precisely what he was doing, yet
she wanted more.
“Please…” she said with a quivering breath, her lashes fluttering and her senses burning. “I need
you.”
Ethan halted his assault on her breasts for a brief second as he gazed into the depths of her brown
eyes, and then he closed the space between them by powerfully taking her lips in his and flipping
them around so his hard body was pinning her down. Meredith’s breath hitched at the gesture, and he
once again drifted his hand over her inner thigh, finally reaching her pulsing sex.
He rubbed agonizingly slow circles against her pearl and her eyes rolled back. Whenever her lips
parted in frantic moans, he captured them in his own, tasting her mouth with his tongue, barely
allowing her respite. Then he paused, causing Meredith to lapse into desperation for more.
But before she could put words to her desires, he forced a finger inside her entrance, stretching
her open and causing her back to arch deeper in equal measures of ardor and lust. She pushed herself
down against him as her body yearned for more pleasure. She didn’t know why it felt almost wrong to
admit how desperate she wanted him—her husband, but she did. She wanted his raw and unrestrained
passion, she wanted to feel him against her, she wanted to know everything about him and despite
what happened between them, her body and soul yearned for him. They were to separate. She knew
this much and she would not lie to herself, but she needed to cherish their moments together, even if it
meant pushing all rational thought away for just tonight.
He silenced her deep breaths by kissing her. Hard. Her body succumbed fully to him and he
slipped another finger inside her which instinctively caused her to bite against his lips in pleasure,
something that only seemed to arouse him further. He didn’t stop his intense assault against her mouth
and instead, his other hand enclosed around her neck, ever so lightly, enough for a foreign and
unfamiliar surge of intoxicating craving to pump through her veins.
As he broke apart their kiss, she watched him with anticipation of what he might do to her next.
His lips brushed her jaw, down to her neck, and then further lower to her collarbone, until they
reached dangerously close to her breasts. She wished to pleasure him in return, she wanted to touch
him and please him but she didn’t know how.
Her thoughts were interrupted and turned to mush inside her head the moment Ethan’s mouth
circled her hard nipples and he raised his fingers to her lips, allowing her to suck on them.
“Ethan, I—” she murmured, burning to tell him just how badly she needed him.
He responded by biting her nipple, just enough for ripples of desire to course through her. His
fingers moved in and out of her canal in a rhythmic pattern—first slow and steady, and then fast and
sudden without giving her a moment to prepare. As his pace increased, she instinctively bit down on
him, her moans releasing in deep waves and her thighs trembling in raw desire. Her legs stretched out
and her toes curled around the bed covers.
He didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. He wasn’t slowing down and with every
thrust of his fingers and every word he mumbled, she was growing weaker and weaker, her muscles
and body searching for release and satisfaction at this overwhelming feeling in her core. His hand
continued to focus on her mound, and his other traveled all around her body, caressing every bare
curve, from her breasts to her buttocks. Right as she neared her climax, he suddenly stopped.
Meredith whimpered in response, an accumulation of all the tantalizing pleasure she had just felt
and knowing her release was not coming just yet. He smirked at her reaction and moved back, looking
at her with lust-filled eyes, and then he lowered his head to her stomach, kissing the skin on her lower
abdomen. Each hand rested on either side of her hips and pinned her against the featherbed firmly, so
she could hardly wriggle. Before she could figure out why he did so, his lips reached her sensitive
bud of nerves and he began kissing, sucking, and licking her.
She gasped at the feeling of his tongue against her nub and his fingers caressed her opening in a
teasing motion. Pleasure flowed through every vein of her body and her muscles spasmed as he
continued to kiss and suck at her, all while never allowing her lower body to shift an inch. He took an
intense pleasure in holding her down and forcing her to submit to his will.
Again, her wetness intensified, though she could hardly tell whether it was from her or Ethan’s
actions. His tongue entered her and she finally tore free of his grasp. Her legs crossed over his
shoulders around the nape of his neck as they locked around him, and her hands clutched his hair,
pressing his lips deeper against her sex, her release reaching a new unprecedented threshold of
pleasure. His glistening fingers raised to her lips once more as she took them into her mouth all over.
Right as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled away in a torturous gesture, allowing her to
take a moment to catch her breath. When she had not felt his touch again, her eyes flickered open,
readjusting to the light. She saw him standing there, before her, completely naked and erect. Her gaze
traveled down to his erection and her wetness pulsed in desire at the size of him and knowing that she
was the one causing him to feel this way. Only her.
He moved closer to her, and with both hands, seized her legs and spread them apart for him. She
could feel the heat and lust emitting from both their bodies. Slowly, he lowered his toned frame on top
of her, making sure not to crush her under his weight as he pressed soft kisses against her lips.
His hardness rested against her entrance and she maintained eye contact with him, knowing she
wanted this. He wanted this. Her teeth captured her bottom lip in an expression that displayed to
Ethan how badly she needed him. With that, he pushed down over her until the tip of his member
rubbed against her sex in an enticingly slow search for her opening.
Then, without warning, Ethan pressed down harder, slipping inside of her and eliciting from her a
low and raucous sound she had never heard before. The sound was synchronous with a throaty groan
from Ethan, and her arms nestled above his muscular shoulder blades as beads of sweat trickled
down his back. But he didn’t move. No, he remained utterly still, allowing for her body to adjust to
his size.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispered seductively. He kept his eyes fixed on her, and then pushed
deeper inside her, inch by inch, until his pelvic bone touched her sex. She was stretched and opened
beneath him and she inhaled and exhaled heavy gasps to quell the flames of her body. And then he
pulled back as if he was about to exit her, but this time, thrust inside her all at once. She gasped and
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Virtue, says Montesquieu, etc. Esprit des Lois, III. 6.
‘Honour dishonourable.’ Paradise Lost, IV. 314–15.
‘Of outward shew,’ etc. Cf. Ibid. VIII. 538–9.
248. ‘To tread,’ etc. Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 3.
‘Nice customs,’ etc. Henry V. Act V. Sc. 2.
‘In form and motion,’ etc. Cf. Hamlet, Act II. Sc. 2.
‘Vice is undone,’ etc. Pope, Epilogue to the Satires, I. 142–9.
249. A Coronation-day. The coronation of George IV. had taken
place on July 19, 1821.
250. Prince Leopold. Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg (1790–1865),
who had married the Princess Charlotte, and afterwards
(1831) became King of the Belgians.
Castlereagh ... unstained, etc. Castlereagh committed suicide
on Aug. 12, 1822.
‘A present deity,’ etc. Dryden, Alexander’s Feast, 35–6.
251. ‘Worth makes the man,’ etc. Pope, An Essay on Man, IV.
203–4.
‘The only amaranthine flower,’ etc. Cowper, The Task, III.
268–9.
252. ‘A man may read,’ etc. Holy Dying, chap. i. § 2.
 ON THE SCOTCH CHARACTER
Now republished for the first time. See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt’s
Memoirs, etc. (1867), I. xxvii.

PAG
E ‘Edina’s darling seat.’ ‘Edina! Scotia’s darling seat!’ Burns,
253. Address to Edinburgh.
253. Lismahago. In Humphry Clinker.
254. Lord Erskine. Lord Erskine was entertained at a banquet in
Edinburgh on Feb. 21, 1820. He had not been in Scotland
for more than fifty years.
255. Teres et [atque] rotundus. Horace, Satires, II. vii. 86.
A very learned man. (?) Sir David Brewster, editor of The
Edinburgh Encyclopædia. Cf. post, p. 316.
Mr. Macvey Napier. Macvey Napier (1776–1847), editor of a
supplement to the 4th, 5th, and 6th editions and of the 7th
edition of The Encyclopædia Britannica, and Jeffrey’s
successor as editor of The Edinburgh Review. Hazlitt had
contributed to the Supplement. See vol. IX. (Essays on the
Fine Arts), p. 377 and note. In A Selection from the
Correspondence of the late Macvey Napier, Esq. (1879), p.
21, there is the following letter from Hazlitt to Napier:—

‘Winterslow Hut, near Salisbury,

‘August 26, 1818.

‘My dear Sir,—I am sorry to be obliged, from want of health

and a number of other engagements, which I am little able
to perform, to decline the flattering offer you make me. I
have got to write, between this and the end of October, an
octavo volume or a set of lectures on the Comic Drama of
this country for the Surrey Institution, which I am anxious
 not to slur over, and it will be as much as I can do to get it
ready in time. I am also afraid that I should not be able to
do the article in question, or yourself, justice, for I am not
only without books, but without knowledge of what books
are necessary to be consulted on the subject. To get up an
article in a Review on any subject of general literature is
quite as much as I can do without exposing myself. The
object of an Encyclopædia is, I take it, to condense and
combine all the facts relating to a subject, and all the
theories of any consequence already known or advanced.
Now, where the business of such a work ends, is just where
I begin, that is, I might perhaps throw in an idle
speculation or two of my own, not contained in former
accounts of the subject, and which would have very little
pretensions to rank as scientific. I know something about
Congreve, but nothing at all of Aristophanes, and yet I
conceive that the writer of an article on the Drama ought to
be as well acquainted with the one as the other. If you
should see Mr. Constable, will you tell him I am writing
nonsense for him as fast as I can?—Your very humble
servant,

W. HAZLITT.’

It is difficult to know what ‘nonsense’ Hazlitt was writing for

Constable.
256. ‘Damnable iteration.’ 1 Henry IV., Act I. Sc. 2.
Not like La Fleur, etc. See Sterne, The Sentimental Journey,
The Passport, Paris.
Note 1. Cockney School of Poetry. See vol. VI. (Table-Talk), 99
and note.
Note 1. ‘Kernes and Gallowglasses.’ Macbeth, Act I. Sc. 2.
258. ‘Sins,’ etc. Cf. Hebrews xii. 1.
A much-talked-of publication. Hazlitt no doubt refers to The
Beacon, which, like John Bull, was intended to counteract
the progress of Radical doctrine during the period of the
 Queen’s trial. For an account of it and of Scott’s connection
with it, see Lockhart’s Life of Scott, v. 152–3.
‘Leaning,’ etc. Cf. The Faerie Queene, I. vi. 14.
259. The editor. Theodore Hook, the editor of John Bull, was an
Englishman.
‘Entire affection,’ etc. Cf. The Faerie Queene, I. viii. 40.
 MY FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH POETS
Republished in Literary Remains and Winterslow. The germ of
the essay appeared in a short letter to The Examiner, reprinted in
Political Essays. See vol. III. pp. 152–3 and notes.

PAG
E W——m. Wem.
259. ‘Dreaded name,’ etc. Paradise Lost, II. 964–5.

‘Fluttering,’ etc. Cf. Coriolanus, Act V. Sc. 6.

‘High-born Hoel’s harp,’ etc. Gray, The Bard, 28.
260. ‘Bound them,’ etc. Pope, Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day, 90–91.

The fires in the Agamemnon. Cf. ante, p. 240 and note.

It was in January, etc. This paragraph and the next are from
The Examiner. See the notes to vol. III. (Political Essays),
pp. 152–3.
262. ‘As are the children,’ etc. Cf. Thomson, The Castle of
Indolence, II. xxxiii.
‘A certain tender bloom,’ etc. Cf. ante, p. 207 and note.
‘Somewhat fat and pursy.’ Cf. ‘He’s fat and scant of breath’
(Hamlet, Act V. Sc. 2), and ‘For in the fatness of these pursy
times,’ etc. (Ibid. Act III. Sc. 4).
263. ‘No figures,’ etc. Julius Cæsar, Act II. Sc. 1.
264. Note 1. For an account of the Rev. William Hazlitt, see Mr. W.
C. Hazlitt’s Four Generations of a Literary Family, The
First Generation.
265. T. Wedgwood. A Life of Tom Wedgwood was published
recently (1903) by the late Mr. R. B. Litchfield.
‘Sounding on his way.’ See vol. IV. (The Spirit of the Age),
note to p. 214.
266. Credat Judæus Apella! Horace, Satires, I. v. 100.
 ‘Thus I refute him, Sir.’ See Boswell’s Life (ed. G. B. Hill), I.
471.
267. ‘Kind and affable,’ etc. Cf. Paradise Lost, VIII. 648–50.
He has somewhere told himself. See Biographia Literaria,
chap. x.
That other Vision of Judgment. Byron’s, first published in
The Liberal, No. 1.
Bridge-street junto. Cf. vol. VI. (Table-Talk), p. 190 and note.
268. Tom Jones and the adventure of the muff. See Tom Jones,
Book X. chap. v. et seq.
At Tewkesbury. According to the essay ‘On Going a Journey,’
it was at Bridgwater. See vol. VI. (Table-Talk), p. 186.
269. A friend of the poet’s. This is a mistake. Wordsworth paid £23
a year for Alfoxden. The agreement is given in Mrs. Henry
Sandford’s Thomas Poole and his Friends, I. 225.
270. ‘In spite of pride,’ etc. Pope, An Essay on Man, I. 293.
‘While yet,’ etc. Cf. Thomson, The Seasons, Spring, 18.
‘Of Providence,’ etc. Paradise Lost, II. 559–560.
271. Chantry’s bust. Sir Francis Chantrey’s bust, now at Coleorton.
Castle Spectre. Originally produced (at Drury Lane)
December 14, 1797.
‘His face,’ etc. Cf. Macbeth, Act I. Sc. 5.
272. Tom Poole. Thomas Poole (1765–1837), for an account of
whom see Mrs. Sandford’s Thomas Poole and his Friends.
‘Followed in the chase,’ etc. Cf. Othello, Act II. Sc. 3.
Sir Walter Scott’s, etc. Hazlitt probably refers to the banquet
given to George IV. by the Magistrates of Edinburgh, August
24, 1822.
273. The Death of Abel. Solomon Gessner’s Tod Abels (1758).
274.
 ‘Ribbed sea-sands.’ The Ancient Mariner, 227. This was one
of the lines for which Coleridge was indebted to
Wordsworth.
275. ‘But there is matter,’ etc. Wordsworth, Hart-leap Well, 95–
96.
 PULPIT ORATORY, ETC.
Now reprinted for the first time. See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt’s Memoirs,
etc., I. xxvii. Cf. the essay on Edward Irving in The Spirit of the Age
(vol. IV. pp. 222–231). After Hazlitt’s essay there follows a savage
attack on Irving (? by T. J. Hogg), as to which the editor says: ‘The
following has also lost its way to us. We take it in as a foundling, but
without adopting all its sentiments.’

PAG
E ‘Got the start,’ etc. Cf. Julius Cæsar, Act I. Sc. 2.

‘Kingly Kensington.’ Swift’s Ballad, Duke Upon Duke, St. 14.

Lady Bluemount. Lady Beaumont presumably, the wife of
276. Wordsworth’s friend, Sir George Howland Beaumont.
Mr. Botherby.? William Sotheby (1757–1833), whose
persistent attempts as a dramatic author may explain the
nickname.
Mr. Theodore Flash. Theodore Hook, no doubt, who
afterwards denounced Irving as a humbug. See John Bull,
July 20, 1823.
Note. Mr. Dubois. Edward Dubois (1774–1850), wit and
journalist.
Note. ‘Rose,’ etc. Cf. Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 1.
277. ‘His foot mercurial,’ etc. Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. 2.
‘The iron,’ etc. The Psalter, Psalm CV. 18.
‘Come, let me clutch thee.’ Macbeth, Act II. Sc. 1.
280. ‘Spins,’ etc. Cf. Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act V. Sc. 1.
‘Loop or peg,’ etc. Cf. Othello, Act III. Sc. 3.
281. ‘Fire hot from Hell.’ Cf. Julius Cæsar, Act III. Sc. 1.
282. The swimmer. See this passage quoted by Hazlitt in vol. V.
(Lectures on the Age of Elizabeth), pp. 323–4.
283. Mr. Croly. George Croly (1780–1860), a regular contributor
to Blackwood’s Magazine, had published Paris in 1815
(1817).
284. ‘Best virtue.’ Cf. All’s Well That Ends Well, Act IV. Sc. 3.
‘We pause for a reply.’ Cf. Julius Cæsar, Act III. Sc. 2.
285. Daniel Wilson. Daniel Wilson (1778–1858), at this time
incumbent of St. John’s Chapel, Bedford Row, Bloomsbury,
afterwards Bishop of Calcutta.
‘Oh! for an eulogy,’ etc. Cf. ‘Oh, for a curse to kill with.’
Otway, Venice Preserved, Act II. Sc. 2.
 ARGUING IN A CIRCLE
Now reprinted for the first time. See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt’s Memoirs,
etc., I. xxvii.

PAG
E ‘Fancies and good-nights.’ Cf. 2 Henry IV., Act III. Sc. 2.
285. ‘Base cullionly fellow.’ Cf. 2 Henry VI., Act I. Sc. 3.

‘Beggarly, unmannered corse.’ Cf. 1 Henry IV. Act I. Sc. 3.

‘The age of chivalry,’ etc. Cf. Burke, Reflections on the
Revolution in France (Select Works, ed. Payne, II. 89).
‘The melancholy Jacques,’ etc. As You Like It, Act II. Sc. 1.
286. The present Duke of Buckingham. Richard Temple Nugent
Brydges Chandos, created Duke of Buckingham and
Chandos, Feb. 1822.
‘New manners,’ etc. Thomas Warton, Sonnet, Written in a
Blank Leaf of Dugdale’s Monasticon.
‘Submits,’ etc. Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France
(Select Works, ed. Payne, II. 90).
287. ‘Long insulted,’ etc. Quoted elsewhere. See vol. III. (Political
Essays), pp. 13 and 100.
‘With jealous leer malign.’ Paradise Lost, IV. 503.
288. ‘Cause was hearted.’ Cf. Othello, Act I. Sc. 3.
‘The open,’ etc. Cf. Paradise Lost, X. 112–113.
‘The shame,’ etc. Cf. 2 Samuel i. 16.
289. The Editor of the New Times. Dr. Stoddart.
‘Make the worse,’ etc. Paradise Lost, II. 114.
‘So musical,’ etc. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, IV. 1.
290. ‘So well,’ etc. Cf. Paradise Lost, IX. 549.
Mr. Canning’s present ... situation. Canning had become
Foreign Secretary in 1822, and had shortly afterwards
acknowledged the independence of the Spanish American
Colonies.
291. ‘Turnspit of the king’s kitchen.’ See Burke’s ‘Speech on
Economical Reform,’ (Works, Bohn, II. 85–86), and cf. vol.
I. (The Round Table), p. 427.

‘Undoing all,’ etc. 2 Henry VI., Act I. Sc. 1.

‘Though that their joy,’ etc. Cf. Othello, Act I. Sc. 1.
292. ‘Like an exhalation,’ etc. Cf. Comus, 556.
‘Ride in the whirlwind,’ etc. Addison, The Campaign, and
Pope, The Dunciad, III. 264.
293. Noctes, etc. Horace, Satires, II. vi. 65.
‘The beautiful,’ etc. Coleridge, The Death of Wallenstein, Act
V. Sc. 1.

294. ‘A thick scarf.’ See ante, note to p. 82.

‘Sweet smelling gums.’ Paradise Lost, XI. 327.
‘Dews of Castalie.’ Cf. Spenser, The Ruines of Time, 431.
295. The Six Acts. Passed by Lord Sidmouth in 1819 after the
Manchester reform meeting.
QUERIES AND ANSWERS; OR THE RULE OF
CONTRARY
Now republished for the first time. See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt’s
Memoirs, etc. (1867), I. xxix.

PAG
E Thimble. Cf. a passage, ante, at the foot of p. 39. The editors
297. have not been able to identify the person here referred to as
‘Thimble.’
 ON KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD
This paper and the two following ones were republished in
Sketches and Essays.

‘Who shall go about,’ etc. Cf. The Merchant of Venice, Act II.
Sc. 9.
298. ‘Subtle,’ etc. Cf. Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. 3.
‘The children,’ etc. Cf. S. Luke xvi. 8.
299. ‘To see ourselves,’ etc. Burns, To a Louse, St. 8.
‘No figures,’ etc. Cf. Julius Cæsar, Act II. Sc. 1.
‘His soul,’ etc. Pope, An Essay on Man, I. 101–2.
300. ‘What shall it profit,’ etc. S. Mark viii. 36.
301. Non ex quovis, etc. Erasmus, Adagiorum Chiliades, ‘Munus
aptum.’
‘No mark,’ etc. 1 Henry IV., Act III. Sc. 2.
‘The soul,’ etc. Cf. Othello, Act I. Sc. 3.
 THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED

PAG
E Bub Doddington said, etc. Cf. vol. VI. (Table-Talk), p. 100 and
301. note.
Salus populi, etc. The Twelve Tables, De Officio Consulis.
The upstart, etc. This sentence was omitted in Sketches and
Essays.
302. Mr. Cobbett seemed disappointed, etc. The reference is
probably to The Weekly Political Register for Oct. 29, 1825,
where Cobbett deplores the fact that Baron Maseres (1731–
1824), who had visited him in prison, had left the bulk of
his large property to a ‘little Protestant parson.’
‘His patron’s ghost,’ etc. Cf. Thomson, The Castle of
Indolence, I. St. 51.
303. ‘Never standing upright,’ etc. See Macklin’s The Man of the
World, II. 1.
‘In large heart enclosed.’ Cf. Paradise Lost, VII. 486.
304. ‘The world,’ etc. Thomson, The Seasons, Autumn, 233.
‘The heart of man,’ etc. Cf. Jeremiah xvii. 9.
‘As the flesh,’ etc. Cf. Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. 1.
‘Tread,’ etc. Cf. Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 3.
305. ‘If thine eye,’ etc. Cf. S. Matthew v. 29.
‘The little chapel-bell,’ etc. Hazlitt refers to The Chapel Bell,
an early poem of Southey’s (1793), and The Book of the
Church, published by Southey in 1824.
Camille-Desmoulins, etc. Camille Desmoulins (1760–1794),
the well-known Revolutionary pamphleteer; Camille
Jordan (1771–1821), called ‘Jordan Carillon,’ from a speech
(July 4, 1797) in which he proposed to restore the use of
bells to the clergy. See Hazlitt’s Life of Napoleon, chap. 15.
‘His own miniature-picture,’ etc. ‘On my own Miniature
Picture’ (1796).
 THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED

306. ‘Give us pause.’ Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 1.

‘Does somewhat smack.’ Cf. The Merchant of Venice, Act II.
Sc. 2.
307. Peter Finnerty. Peter Finnerty (1766?–1822) at one time on
the staff of The Morning Chronicle with Hazlitt.
308. J——. Jeffrey.
‘In some sort handled.’ Cf. Henry V. Act II. Sc. 3.
‘The high and palmy state.’ Cf. Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 1.
309. ‘Keep this dreadful pudder,’ etc. King Lear, Act III. Sc. 2.
‘When a great wheel,’ etc. Cf. Ibid. Act II. Sc. 4.
310. ‘Will be,’ etc. Dr. Johnson, Preface to Shakespeare (Works,
Oxford, 1825, vol. V., p. 118).
 ON PUBLIC OPINION
Published (together with the next essay) in Winterslow.

311. ‘Scared,’ etc. Cf. Collins’s Ode, The Passions, 20.

312. ‘The world rings,’ etc. Cowper, The Task, III. 129–30.
313. ‘No man knoweth,’ etc. Cf. S. John iii. 8.
314. ‘Casting,’ etc. Il Penseroso, 160.
315. ‘Wink,’ etc. Cf. Marston, Antonio’s Revenge, Prologue.
‘Fed fat,’ etc. Cf. The Merchant of Venice, Act I. Sc. 3.
 ON THE CAUSES OF POPULAR OPINION
Published (with preceding essay) in Winterslow.

PAG
E The Editors of the Edinburgh Encyclopædia. The Edinburgh
316. Encyclopædia (18 vols., 1810–30) was edited by Sir David
Brewster.
‘Among the rocks,’ etc. Cf. Michael, 455–7.
317. ‘A man of ten thousand.’ Cf. Hamlet, Act II. Sc. 2.
318. ‘Who loved,’ etc. Othello, Act V. Sc. 2.
320. J——. Jeffrey.
 A FAREWELL TO ESSAY-WRITING
Republished in an imperfect form in Winterslow. In the Magazine
the essay is dated ‘Winterslow, Feb. 20, 1828.’

PAG
E ‘This life is best,’ etc. Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. 3.
321. ‘A friend,’ etc. Cf. Cowper, Retirement, 741–2.

‘Done its spiriting gently.’ Cf. The Tempest, Act I. Sc. 2.

‘The spring,’ etc. Coleridge, Christabel, 22.
‘Fields are dank,’ etc. Milton’s Sonnet (XX.), ‘Lawrence, of
virtuous father virtuous son.’
322. ‘Peep,’ etc. Cf. Macbeth, Act I. Sc. 5.
‘Open,’ etc. Cowper, The Task, VI. 11–12.
323. ‘Of all the cities,’ etc. Dryden, Theodore and Honoria, 1–2.
‘Which when Honoria view’d,’ etc. Ibid. 342–3.
‘And made th’ insult,’ etc. Dryden, Sigismonda and
Guiscardo, 668–9.
I am much pleased, etc. This sentence (to the end of the
paragraph) was omitted in Winterslow.
324. ‘Fall’n,’ etc. Scott, Glenfinlas, last stanza.
Mr. Gifford once said, etc. See vol. IV. (The Spirit of the Age)
p. 307.
I am rather disappointed, etc. This sentence was omitted in
Winterslow.
325. ‘The admired,’ etc. Cf. Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 1.
What I have here stated, etc. This paragraph and the next two
were omitted in Winterslow.
 ‘I know not seems.’ Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 2.
326. L——. Lamb, no doubt.
Antonio. Godwin’s Antonio was produced at Drury Lane and
damned Dec. 13, 1800.
‘Nor can I think,’ etc. Dryden, The Hind and the Panther, I.
315.
327. Chaucer’s Flower and Leaf. See vol. V. (Lectures on the
English Poets) p. 27 and note.
‘And ayen,’ etc. The Flower and the Leaf, St. 15.
Mr. and Miss L——. Charles and Mary Lamb.
328. ‘And curtain close,’ etc. Cf. Collins’s Ode, On the Poetical
Character, 76.