The Seduction of a Duke by Donna MacMeans Read Free Book Online

negotiations were finalized much too quickly for the exchange of photographs. As I would arrive about the same time as the mail from London, it was decided that such an exchange would not be necessary. After all, she is marrying for my title, not for my appearance.” Just as I’m marrying for her money, he silently added. He could be an old geezer and she a pox-marked hag for all that it mattered.
    “Look at you,” William said, pointing to Percival’s reflection in the mirror. “What woman wouldn’t be pleased to find herself shackled to such a handsome figure of a man? I suspect the poor girl will be beyond disappointment when she discovers that I’m to be her true groom.”
    “Nonsense,” Percy remonstrated. “You’ve always done well with the ladies. I’m sure once you remove that ridiculous headpiece, she’ll be overcome with her good fortune. What woman wouldn’t wish to find herself betrothed to a handsome duke?”
    William grimaced. He rather expected the chit to be overcome with joy no matter his appearance by virtue of his title alone. That was what his last wife did. Once the vows were spoken, her true nature emerged.
    His brother Nicholas had married the most non-appropriate woman he could find and a happier couple William had never seen. The jealous longing that surfaced whenever his thoughts turned to Nicholas pulled at his chest. What would it be like to share a life with a woman who truly loved a man for himself and not his wealth or title? Did such women exist? If they did, he had run out of time to find them. The duty and responsibility that came hand in hand with his title had made that kind of happiness little more than a pipe dream.
    He lifted the frog head and settled it on his shoulders once again and peered through the small holes that allowed sight. He squinted at his absurd reflection in the mirror. “What woman indeed?”
     
     
    “MISS WINTHROP, YOUR MOTHER WON’T LIKE BEING tricked like this.”
    “My mother is an old hand at trickery,” Fran said, remembering her mother’s frequent use of guile to manipulate others. She adjusted the peacock mask to conceal most of Mary’s face. “As long as the evening ends with my engagement to the Duke, she’ll forgive your involvement.”
    And if she throws a sufficient fit, enough to make the Duke drop his engagement proposal, so much the better, she thought smugly. She stepped back from her regally attired maid, pointing her in the direction of the mirror. “There. You are stunning. Everyone will believe you are a rich American heiress.”
    Mary frowned at her reflection. “Your parents will know. I’m not nearly as tall as you, Miss Winthrop. I don’t know all those fancy words you use, and I’ve never tried those fancy dances.” She pulled on the revealing bodice. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
    “Nonsense,” Fran reassured her, readjusting the folds of the elaborate costume. Indeed, poor Mary appeared a bit overwhelmed by all the blue and green feathers. But the low décolleté displaying Mary’s ample assets would draw all the attention. No one would notice the heavy garment dragging on the floor from Mary’s lack of height. “You will be the princess of the ball. You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. Just stroll about the rooms downstairs and pretend you are me.”
    She doubted the deception would progress that far. Her mother was well acquainted with Fran’s abhorrence of crowds and strangers. Once Maman realized that it was not Francesca in the peacock costume, Fran imagined the ball, and more important the engagement, would be cut short. At a minimum, she’d gain more time to effect an escape. At best, the resulting scandal would give the Duke sufficient motive to search for his bride in England and not on these shores.
    She glanced at her own reflection standing behind Mary, wondering if her mother would appreciate the irony of her choice of costume. Fran wore the free-flowing folds of fabric