Dukes By the Dozen

Her heart was so full it started to leak out the corners of her eyes. “I love you, Marcus Andrew Beecham. I love you so much I don’t mind that you’re Duke of Warwick.”

“Because I’m the right Duke of Warwick,” he said with assurance. “And I love you Penelope Anne Pease.”

In front of them, the vicar cleared his throat. “If you two would be so good as to follow the order of the service?”

“We will,” they said together.

And they did.

And when the fellow at last pronounced them husband and wife, Penelope took Beech’s dear, different, familiar face in her hands, and kissed him with all the love she had left in her leaky heart.

But it was enough. Because she could read the truth of his words in his beautiful grey-green eyes—apart they were two damaged people, but together, they were perfect.

Perfectly united in love.

What a difference one duke had made.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth Essex is the award-winning author of critically acclaimed historical romances, including Reckless Brides, and her new Highland Brides series. Her books have been nominated for numerous awards, including the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and Seal of Excellence Award, and RWA’s prestigious RITA Award.

Elizabeth loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to contact her at the following places:

E-mail: [email protected]

Web: http://elizabethessex.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQgwk9

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EssexRomance

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.essex.37

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/elizabethessex/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070864.Elizabeth_Essex

DISCOVERING THE DUKE

MARCH

MADELINE MARTIN

PREFACE

Reunited at a house party after a lackluster start to their marriage, the Duke of Stedton attempts to win his Duchess’ heart. Will a sizzling wager be enough to melt the frost between them, or will it truly remain the coldest winter in London?

CHAPTER 1

March 1814

IT WASN’T the jostling carriage through the frozen country roads that had Julia Sinclair’s stomach twisting with knots; rather it was the idea of seeing her husband again. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d woken to find William gone after a very awkward wedding night. He’d left a note simply stating his need to depart at once.

On the heels of that note was yet another slip of paper found near the hearth, crumpled as though it had been meant to join the flames. And considering the contents, it was no wonder. William had been called away with the insistence that he come posthaste on account of someone called Maribel.

Maribel. The name seethed inside of Julia.

The idea of a house party in the country with her dearest friend, the Countess of Bursbury, had been a blessing and a curse. A blessing if William did not show, and a curse if he did. Of course, everyone would want to see the new Duke and Duchess of Stedton together.

Blast it.

The carriage made its way down a long drive lined with trees, their stark limbs layered with mounds of glittering snow. Julia pressed her temple to the cool glass window pane to better see the massive structure of Bursbury Manor in the distance. Well, that was a bit of a lie—she was actually scouring the landscape for any sign of her new husband.

Her heart rattled about her chest like a trapped bird. Dread pummeled its way into her stomach and she found herself praying that William not be in attendance. She needed these four days in the country, away from their grand home in London, away from the servants who all probably knew about her husband’s mistress. Every time they gazed at her, she wondered if they were secretly pitying her, or if they were whispering gossip amongst one another.

How could she have been so stupid? This marriage was supposed to have saved her from her father’s house, but now look where she’d landed herself.

Tension squeezed at the back of her throat. No. She would not crumple into tears. Not again. This whole awful mess had been given enough of her sorrow. Continuing to mourn, well, it was pathetic, and it needed to stop. And anyway, she had made her decision.

The carriage pulled to a stop before the manor, and a footman opened the door to help Julia from the small cabin. The wind hit her with a sharpness of the cold March. The chill lasted but a moment before she was swept into the grand entry of Bursbury Manor into Lady Bursbury’s warm greeting.

“Your Grace.” Nancy clapped her hands to her chest. “Don’t you look lovely? Marriage becomes you.”