A Duke’s Overlooked Spinster (The Courting Season #1)

Chapter One

London, March 1814

Adrian Norfolk approached St. George’s Church slowly from a bustling London Street. The duke of Norenshire walked silently alongside his spinster aunt, Lady Eleanor Norfolk, stiffly noting all the ton members that filled the lavish church. If it were an ordinary sermon, Adrian might have found comfort in attending. But it was anything but ordinary.

As Adrian and Eleanor entered the chapel, the duke was instantly aware of the excitement surrounding the impending announcement. It was the third and final time that the declaration would be made. After that, he would be bound by the unspoken, unwritten law of the ton to fulfill the promise issued by the announcement. As would a woman whom he barely knew.

Adrian kept his eyes fixed on the front of the church as he made his way to a pew. It was adjacent to that in which the woman in question sat with her family, but he kept his gaze firmly away from her. He did not look away from the vicar as the man took his place at the pulpit. He held his breath, his entire body tensing as the congregation fell into a hushed silence, waiting for the anticipated announcement. And the instant the vicar read the final wedding banns for the Duke of Norenshire and his duchess-to-be, Lady Arabella Cooper, conversation buzzed anew. Adrian did not allow his expression to change. But inwardly, he sighed heavily.

After a brief pause from the vicar to allow the churchgoers time to settle once more, he began his sermon. Adrian instantly tuned out what the clergyman was saying, his mind too preoccupied with his concerns to afford the man the attention Adrian knew he deserved. He felt heavy with the burden of the duties he knew he had to fulfill; namely, his marriage to Lady Arabella.

He assured himself at the time that he and her father, the Earl of Colbrook, had orchestrated the arrangement for their union. Adrian had convinced himself that it was merely a matter of commerce, a necessary undertaking to secure the continued patronage of the earl, whose connections and investments were vital to numerous enterprises that Adrian sought to pursue in the future. But now that the banns had been read for the last time, he began to wonder if he had made the right decision. Would it be worth it to bind himself to a woman who was practically a stranger for the rest of his life, when he had never had an interest in marriage in the first place?

Only when he felt his aunt shift in the pew beside him did he remember she was there. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, noting how she glanced worriedly from him to Lady Arabella and her family, then back again. He knew that she could sense his tension and apprehension.

She had been a mother figure to him since his own mother died when he was a young boy. She had been his one source of love and comfort during the years he spent being raised by his controlling, belittling, harsh father, and he loved her dearly. And yet, it was not her comforting presence he felt right then. All he could hear was his father’s rough, cruel voice.

Control yourself, boy, the late duke’s voice rang in his mind, so clearly that Adrian was transported from the church to the burial site of the late duchess on the day of her funeral. No son of mine will blubber and carry on in this manner. Tears are a show of weakness, and your mother would be horrified. Thank the heavens she cannot see you now.

Adrian winced just as he had, standing in front of his mother’s casket. As a child, he had believed that he had truly done something wrong by shedding tears after losing the mother whom he had loved with his whole heart. His father would surely not be angry with him unless it was wrong to cry, after all. But as an adult, Adrian’s jaw tightened as he recalled the words. He knew that the late duke had been cruel to berate his young son for feeling the grief of such a great loss.

However, the damage had already been done. Years of such belittling and harsh scolding and treatment had conditioned Adrian to bury his feelings as deep inside himself as he could, and then a little further still. It had taught him that he must remain detached from everyone and everything to remain in control of himself and his life. And that was how he would forever be; cold, aloof, distant and focused on his duties. There was no room for having a heart.

After the service, Adrian silently rose from his pew, following the other church members slowly down the aisle. He kept his gaze from lingering on any single person, hoping to avoid the insincere words of congratulations about his upcoming wedding. He glimpsed a few faces, most of which he did not immediately recognize. One, however, caught his attention at once, and his jaw tensed more fiercely than ever before.

Lord Sidney Pembroke stood speaking with animated vigor to an audience of some of the most influential gentlemen within the ton. He narrowed his eyes, wishing that he could bid the man to choke on his words with mere thoughts. He did not need to hear the conversation to understand what was transpiring. The gentleman, a term which Adrian applied with some liberty, was seeking to poach potential clients and business partners, as he so often tried to do.

In the five years since Adrian had reigned as duke, Lord Pembroke had been terribly problematic when it came to business. It was no secret that businessmen were often in competition with one another. However, Lord Pembroke seemed determined to outshine and undermine Adrian specifically at every turn. Adrian’s business ventures were all quite prosperous, and his future prospects were promising. However, each time Lord Pembroke did successfully steal a client or new venture, Adrian’s reputation took a scratch. It was something he could ill afford.

His marriage to Lady Arabella would help preserve his ventures by protecting his shipping routes and offering the political influence he would need to combat anyone who Lord Pembroke succeeded in coercing. But Adrian was still restless. He knew that the so-called gentleman would hardly let a deterrent like Adrian’s new family-in-law stop him from putting strain on Adrian’s empire.

He turned from the angering display with Lord Pembroke, looking for Edwin Sinclair. As the eldest son of a baron, he made for an excellent business partner. And as someone who was also highly intellectual and after losing his younger sister when he was just a boy, as well versed in grief as Adrian himself was, he made for an even better friend.

He tried to ignore the whispers as he searched for his partner. But while his expression lacked any interest in nearby conversations, his lip curled as he heard things like “ice duke” and “poor girl” from the other church attendees. He silently chided them all, wondering if they would be so quickly judgmental if the God they had all been reverently worshiping only moments before could speak directly to them.

He was relieved when he spotted Edwin a few paces away from the church steps, and he pushed the bothersome gossip from his mind. He approached his friend with urgent, angry eyes, pulling him off to the side.

Briefly, he explained what he witnessed with Lord Pembroke and the particular nobles with whom the immoral poacher had been speaking. Edwin frowned, casting a glance behind Adrian to ensure that no one was eavesdropping.

“I suppose we should expect no less,” he said with a snarl. “Surely, there is something more we can do to keep him from meddling in our business affairs.”

Adrian sighed heavily.

“That is what my marriage to Lady Arabella is supposed to accomplish,” he said. “Though I must admit that I am loathe to the idea of marrying simply for business reasons. I am loathe to marriage at all, but it is something which I must do as a duke. And her father can guarantee that our shipping routes will be secure, which will be a tremendous hindrance to any efforts that Lord Pembroke makes to take over those.”

Edwin gave him a small smile, his eyes filled with sympathy.

“It is a great sacrifice you are making,” he said. “And I know you do not make it lightly.”

Adrian sighed again and shook his head.

“I do not,” he said. “But my bigger concern is Lord Pembroke’s recent maneuvers in Parliament. Seeing him talking to the duchess of Groveton and the marquess of Carville rattled me. It tells me that he intends to broach his wild notion of increasing taxes to fund a single party to oversee shipping routes, rather than to allow each businessman to monitor them as he sees fit again at his next opportunity.”

Edwin chortled, but it lacked humor.

“I would like to believe that such a notion would never pass,” he said. “However, politics are very political. And political influence is always driven by money and power.”

Adrian nodded. He knew that fact very well. He just hoped that he could secure enough of both with his marriage to Lady Arabella.

As if reading Adrian’s mind, Edwin put his hand on Adrian’s shoulder, giving him a small but comforting smile.

“I know that you have reservations about your betrothed,” he said. “But you must remember to stand united with her. Especially in front of the likes of Sidney Pembroke, and most especially in front of those with whom he converses. It is important that they do not see your reluctance with her. If the public were to sense any hesitation or dissension between the two of you, it would surely serve to strengthen his influence.”

Adrian nodded, holding back another sigh. It seemed as though his life was already being dictated by a wife he had yet to take. Would anything ever be the same again?

***

Arabella Cooper sat between her parents in the stiff, cold pew of the church. The earl and countess of Colbrook grinned proudly as the wedding banns for Arabella and the Duke of Norenshire were read for the third consecutive week. She, however, barely managed to keep a polite, composed expression as her soul trembled at the words.

Only once did she dare to look at the duke, noting how his jaw clenched with what appeared to be an almost imperceptible attempt to keep the bile from rising to the top of his throat and spilling from his lips. The dread and resentment she had felt for the past three weeks roiled within her, and she had to force her own stomach to settle and keep its contents from finding their way to the sanctuary floor.

Marriage banns reading was supposed to be a joyous time for a couple. But for Arabella, it was the cementing of a future that was required of her as the eldest daughter of an earl, but wholly unwanted by her. She avoided looking again in the direction of her cold, aloof intended as the service dragged on. However, she could not escape the curious glances coming from the other parishioners in the church. So it had been for two Sundays prior, and yet it made her no less uncomfortable than it had those times.

She tightened her grip on her prayer book, trying not to think of the tension she had witnessed in her betrothed’s face. She knew he did not know her well enough to harbor any hatred for her, and certainly no reasons that would make him look so angry about their marriage. But that did nothing to quell her anxiety. She imagined that there were worse things in a marriage than hatred. Such an emotion was fueled by some kind of passion, after all. That was something which the cold duke seemed to lack entirely.

Why has Father done this to me? She lamented silently, allowing herself a moment of private petulance. She would never voice such childish complaints aloud. In fact, she felt immediate shame at her inward whining. She reminded herself of her duty to her family.

She also chided herself for allowing her fear and dread cloud the most important fact of all. Her marriage to the duke would grant her sister, Serena, the ability to marry whomever she chose and whenever she chose to do it, once she had come out to society. It was not only her duty to ensure her sister’s future happiness but also her honour to do so.

With a sigh, she tried to focus on the rest of the service. But even after the banns were long since read, she noticed the glances and stares in her direction. She was already tired of seeing people whisper about her in public. If it was already this exhausting before having married a duke with such a hard reputation, how would it be after they were wed? Would she ever be able to take trips to town without being the center of the most uncomfortable and awkward attention?

When the service concluded at last, Arabella was too happy to escape the church. However, she forced herself to keep a slow, calmed pace, despite her legs’ aching to take her away from the sanctuary as quickly as they could possibly manage. Her heart raced in her chest, but she held a polite smile as she nodded to the gossipers who dared greet her.

It felt as though she might never escape the church, with all the people stopping to speak to her or her parents. She did not glance over her shoulder, but she suspected that the same was true of her betrothed. She kept her focus on the light of the open church door, praying that some fresh air and bright sunlight might cheer her.

Arabella glanced in the direction of her betrothed as he spoke quietly with another gentleman whom she did not know. She told herself to silence her paranoia, that a man as prestigious and influential as the duke of Norenshire surely had better things to discuss than just her. The fact that he did not look toward her as they conversed supported the reassuring thought. But the way he purposely looked through her, as though she did not exist, made her think that she might never know if he was talking about her.

“Arabella, darling,” said a melodic voice an instant before small, delicate arms flew around her from behind.

Arabella started, whirling around to see the smiling face of her cousin. Victoria Brookfield’s dark green eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Cousin,” she said breathlessly. “You have taken me by surprise.”

Victoria giggled as she pulled away.

“I imagine you are rather preoccupied, knowing that your wedding approaches so quickly,” she said. “Pray, do share the extent of your enthusiasm with me.”

Arabella tried to smile, intending to tell her cousin that she was thrilled to be marrying the duke of Norenshire. But her smile must not have been convincing enough, as Victoria’s faltered when she spoke.

“It is certainly something about which I never stop thinking,” she said, answering Victoria’s question as well as she could.

Victoria tilted her head, putting a hand on Arabella’s shoulder.

“What is it, Cousin?” she asked.

Arabella sighed. The weight in her mind and on her soul was too cumbersome. Her mother was too preoccupied with wedding plans to burden with her troubles, and Serena was too young. But she knew she had to tell someone. Before the heaviness threatened to drag her straight down into the earth below.

“The Duke of Norenshire has a rather cold disposition,” she said, speaking more quickly than she had intended. She dropped her voice, aware that there were still other ton members loitering nearby. “And his reputation reflects such. Those who do not find him frigid seem to believe that he is ruthless and aloof.”

Victoria frowned, shrugging.

“What do you believe?” she asked. “I have never known you to follow ton gossip. Do you think he could be those things?”

Arabella nodded slowly, thinking of how he seemed to deliberately pretend to not see her.

“I do,” she said with confidence. “And I cannot reconcile with the notion of sacrificing my freedom, or with spending my days in a marriage so lacking in love and companionship. That would be a more horrible life than that of a spinster. I fear that Father has made a terrible mistake with this arrangement.”

Victoria nodded, giving her cousin a sympathetic look.

“I know how troublesome everything must seem now,” she said. “But try to give His Grace a fair chance before judging him based on what you are hearing. Even if he appears to be what everyone claims him to be now, remember that things are not always as they seem.” She smiled, cupping Arabella’s face in her hands. “And you are the strongest, most determined, most resourceful and most beautiful lady I have ever known. If there is anyone who can make a marriage which might seem like a poor match at first turn into a beautiful love story, it is you. I believe that, and so should you.”

Arabella nodded, but she bit her lip. She thought back to the one time she had witnessed a match she had been certain would not work and, in the end, it had not. It had been that of her own brother, Nathaniel, and the eldest daughter of the viscount of Parish.

Regina Parish had, by all accounts, been a perfect match for Nathaniel. She had been the diamond of the season and was truly beautiful with golden blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, dimples that melted any heart when she smiled and a fondness for the harp that bordered on reverent. She had seemed so sweet and innocent, never behaving too forwardly with Nathaniel, even when they courted. And Arabella noticed that he never stopped smiling when he was in her presence.

Arabella also noticed, however, that Lady Regina’s smiles often did not reach her eyes. She always seemed to be considering or calculating something, something which often kept her from being in the present moment. She seemed to dote on Nathaniel, according to their mother and father and despite her initial misgivings, Arabella came to believe that there could be happiness for Nathaniel and his intended, as well.

When Lady Regina broke Nathaniel’s heart by ending their brief engagement and landing immediately in a courtship with a duke whose name Arabella had long since forgotten, her soul had wept. Nathaniel became a hollow husk of the man she had known until he had met Lady Regina. For some time, he held more darkness in his humor and often visited with dark circles beneath his eyes from sleepless nights than he ever had before. Nathaniel had not mentioned his former betrothed again and one day he decided to leave for a trip overseas. But Arabella knew it had left an impact on him that no amount of time could ever truly reverse.

I shall never suffer that same fate, she silently resolved. Perhaps, it is for the best that there can be no love between the duke and me. But even as she concocted the words, she felt the dread growing. Was it possible that no love could be worse than having one’s heartbroken? Could she be entering a far more miserable existence than she had first imagined?