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

that symbolized the French statue given to the United States as a gift, Liberty Enlightening the World. The costume currently was a popular one at fancy dress balls, as fund-raising efforts for the monument’s pedestal had been sluggish. Mr. Evarts had approached the Winthrops to lend support and had left several sketches of the statue behind. Once erected, he had said, the statue would serve as symbol of liberty and escape from oppression.
    She had purchased the costume several months ago in anticipation of the many costumed balls that ended the summer season not realizing she’d have occasion to use it in her own bid for liberty. How appropriate as tonight she hoped for an escape of her mother’s oppression.
    “You won’t let me be engaged to no duke?” Mary’s wide eyes pleaded with her in the mirror.
    “No, I won’t let that happen,” Fran reassured her. However much she disliked the future her mother had planned for her, she couldn’t in good faith send her maid to stand in her stead before an altar. No, she must conspire a way for the Duke to denounce the engagement.
    “Now remember the plan. You’re to go downstairs just as the Duke enters the foyer, not a moment before. We’ll know him by that costume Maman selected. Curtsy, just as we practiced, when you’re presented.”
    Mary nodded and attempted a wobbly curtsy in front of the mirror. Fran remembered the hours her mother used to make her practice the movement as a young girl. She hadn’t wobbled like that in twenty years. Surely, a conceited, pretentious old duke would be offended by such an awkward display. A smile crept to her lips. And if her mother caused a scandalous scene, so much the better.
    “I couldn’t curtsy better myself,” Fran lied. “The Duke has never met me so he won’t suspect a switch. Just play it by ear.”
    “Where will you be? What if your mother confronts me?” Mary’s eyes grew big and round. “What if I’m discharged as a result?”
    “Tell her I made you do it,” Fran responded. “Tell them it is all my fault. She’ll believe you. Maybe that will make the Duke call off this ridiculous arrangement.”
    They exchanged places. Fran sat on the chair before the mirror, while Mary vigorously stroked her long hair with a brush. “Are you sure you don’t want me to put it up, Miss Winthrop? Your mother would want you to have it high like a proper lady.”
    Fran retrieved one of the sketches of Bartholdi’s statue from the vanity drawer. “It should resemble this lady’s hair. Gathered at the nape in a series of folds with finger curls below the ears,” Fran said, appraising herself in the mirror.
    Mary smiled. “You look like a young girl with your hair down around your shoulders. You have such pretty hair.”
    Indeed, she did look younger this way. Not at all like the old spinster she was bound to become now that Randolph had abandoned her. Perhaps that was the true motive behind this sham engagement, she thought. Her mother might just want to see her properly married. As quickly as she entertained that thought, she abandoned it. Her mother was interested only in what her pawn could do for her. She had no concern for her daughter’s wishes or happiness. Alva’s desires were all that mattered. That was the way it had always been.
    Fran pressed a copper crown that radiated seven spikes in a sunburst design into her hair. “This headpiece should stand out above the crowd. I should be easy enough to find.”
    She hesitated. If all transpired according to plan, the commotion at the doorway should prove sufficient to dissuade the Duke. But if not, she had an alternative plan. A cold shiver slipped down her spine.
    “If you don’t find me in the ballroom,” she said, hoping events would not progress that far, “ask someone to check the gardens.”
     
     
    NO ONE KNEW BETTER HOW TO STAGE A DRAMATIC entrance than her mother, Fran thought, which explained the wide, multilevel Siena marble staircase solidly