How To Seduce A Duke

exclusively on Rogan.

Quinn could have been any other gentleman for as little as she noticed him. It was the tall, ebony-haired, handsome duke who held her focus. He made her remember things she ought not. Made her wonder what the muscled chest she’d felt under her fingertips would look like, stripped of his coat and shirt and bared in the candlelight.

Suddenly Lady Upperton whirled around. “Oh! He’s coming back. Turn away, turn away, Mary!”

A moment later, Rogan turned from the orchestra stand and strode toward the ladies.

Mary turned her head and saw the man Rogan had paid only a quarter of an hour before was now standing near the conductor, with a parcel under his arm.

“Lady Upperton, Miss Royle.” Rogan stood erect. As he spoke, his eyes did not leave Mary’s for an instant. “Will the two of you do me the honor of joining me in the Turkish room for a few minutes?” He gestured toward the doors near the grand staircase. “Please.”

Lady Upperton looked confused. “Why, yes, Your Grace.” She looked to Mary, who offered no explanation.

“Miss Royle?” Rogan offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Mary nodded dumbly. Lady Upperton might not know what was about to occur, but Mary certainly did.

It was time to play her final trump.

Chapter 15

The Turkish room was awash in blue, from the luxurious carpets to the drapery panels lining the walls.

Rogan gestured to the nearest of the Ottoman sofas lining the perimeter of the room. Both Mary and Lady Upperton, obviously ill at ease, sat down obediently.

“The others should be here presently. Shouldn’t be long.” Rogan began to pace the open doorway.

“What is going to happen, dear?” Lady Upperton’s white brows fluttered nervously.

Honestly, Mary didn’t know…not for certain, anyway. She had an idea, though, and that idea sent her teetering to the edge of her nerves.

To pass the creeping time, she glanced up at the massive, glittering crystal chandelier suspended above. There was something painted on the ceiling, and she drew a shading hand to her eyes and peered up at the painting of a soaring eagle grasping a thunderbolt.

Low voices from just outside lured Mary’s gaze to the open doors. She leaned forward on the sofa, just far enough to see Rogan reaching, and the hands of two different men stretched outward.

Then he turned and gestured inside. Mary sat back upright and stared straight ahead.

“Lady Upperton, Miss Royle, my I present Mr. Archer? Lord Lotharian introduced us just this night. Such good fortune too, our meeting. Mr. Archer is a vicar and has agreed to preside over our wedding ceremony.”

Mary bobbed a small curtsy, but before she rose completely, Lady Upperton nudged her arm and nodded to the gentleman.

It was him. The gentleman whose outstretched hand had taken the bag of coins Rogan had covertly offered him.

Ah, so this was his plan. Pay a gentleman to pose as a minister, then watch her squirm.

Well, thanks to Lady Upperton’s keen attention and well-aimed lorgnette, she wasn’t going to fall for Rogan’s grand ruse.

Ha! Now that she’d viewed his hand, she could actually enjoy bluffing the duke.

“Mr. Archer, how good of you to officiate, especially at such late notice.” She smiled brightly, then turned and watched Rogan’s own smug grin dissolve from his lips.

“And you are both well acquainted with my brother.” Rogan moved his large frame aside, and Quinn stepped forward.

“Lady Upperton.” He bowed, then turned and looked sheepishly at Mary. “Miss Royle, how pleased I am to welcome you into our family.” He stepped forward, clasped her right hand with both of his, and squeezed it gently. It felt like an apology.

Mentally bracing herself, Mary gazed deep into Quinn’s eyes. She was ready for the blow that seeing him would inflict, knowing that he was willingly handing her off to his wicked brother.

But surprisingly, she felt no pain.

No disappointment at all.

How could that be? She had set her cap at him. Believed him to be her future. And yet…at this moment, she felt absolutely nothing.

Rogan stepped forward and broke the lock of their hands. Possessively, he took her hand and set it in place around his own arm. He looked down at her. “Quinn will be a witness.”

The Black Duke was too cruel. Had she been in love with Quinn, as she had honestly believed she might have been at one time, thrusting his brother forward as witness would have been beyond low. And if Quinn had shared those feelings, it would have wounded him deeply as well.

But obviously, he did not. Otherwise he would not have accepted a role in Rogan’s elaborate wedding ruse. And yet, he had.

“Lady Upperton, will you stand as witness as well?” Rogan’s tone was level and serious.

Oh, he was a master.

“Dear?” Faded blue eyes stared up at Mary. Lady Upperton separated her from Rogan and led her several feet away. “You know I believe he is the one for you. He is your heart’s match. But first, I need to hear that you no longer have feelings for Lord Wetherly.”

Mary was stunned by the question. “No, I don’t. As I stand here this night, I wonder if I was ever really in love with him, or if I was merely in love with the idea of him.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

Mary lowered her head. “The latter. That I never truly loved him. I only thought I did.”

Lady Upperton beamed back at her. “Then, I will stand for you, dear gel,” she exclaimed for everyone in the Turkish room to hear. Then, in a blink, the old woman gave Mary a tug back toward the gentlemen.

“Lady Upperton, please wait-,” Mary sputtered, but before she could finish her thought, Rogan reached for her and brought her to his side.

“Darling,” his voice was low, almost mocking, “you are not having second thoughts?”

He was so sure of himself. So sure that she would turn and scamper off like a frightened hare. She straightened her spine. “Not at all.” Mary looked straight ahead and focused her gaze on the supposed vicar. “I am ready.”

Rogan took her hands in his, and the ceremony began.

The wedding was not but a haze, a disturbing blend of sacred words and utter folly. It isn’t real, she reminded herself as Rogan slipped a golden ring onto her finger and settled it over her knuckle.

Just as Mr. Archer uttered the final admonition, “What God has joined, let no man put asunder,” Mary glanced up to see Lord Lotharian and her sisters standing in the doorway, mouths fully agape.

She could not go through with this. She couldn’t. She conceded. Rogan had won.

Mary turned to Mr. Archer, meaning to ask him to stop this farce, but it was too late.

“…declare you man and wife.”

She looked up at Rogan and saw that he was already gazing down at her…as if in a daze.

Her stomach clenched. Something felt very wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

From the edge of her vision, she could see her sisters and the elderly lord rushing into the room, but her gaze remained locked with Rogan’s.

He released her hands, and she felt his fingers slide around her waist. He cupped her chin with his other hand and tilted her face upward.

“You have won, my dear. You are a duchess and will live the rest of life in luxury and comfort.” His mouth came down on hers then, and he kissed her mouth hard before pulling away.

It wasn’t at all like before.