Always the Rival
Never the Bride
Book 7
Emily E K Murdoch
© Copyright 2020 by Emily E K Murdoch
Text by Emily E K Murdoch
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition October 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch
Never The Bride Series
Always the Bridesmaid (Book 1)
Always the Chaperone (Book 2)
Always the Courtesan (Book 3)
Always the Best Friend (Book 4)
Always the Wallflower (Book 5)
Always the Bluestocking (Book 6)
Always the Rival (Book 7)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About Emily E K Murdoch
Chapter One
No matter what he did, it was impossible for Charles Audley, Duke of Orrinshire, to tug his cravat into a comfortable position.
Noise, laughter, and movement swirled around him as he attempted to loosen the necktie, but it was impossible. His valet, Bridges, had done an excellent job of preparing him for the wedding. Now he would have to live with it.
His dark eyes looked past the graceful dancers in the center of the room and wished he had not made that promise to Patrick. How could he have known the man’s wedding would be so dull?
Laughter erupted from one end of the room as a joke came to a conclusion, and several young ladies passed him in a giggling gaggle. Perhaps it was only he who was finding it dull.
“…are you listening, Charles? I do believe you are not listening to a single word I am saying!”
Charles sighed and turned his attention back to his mother. “I am listening, Mama.”
The Dowager Duchess of Orrinshire, Lady Audley, glared fiercely at her son, evidently searching for a sliver of disrespect in his tone, but had to grudgingly continue, “Well. Good. What I was saying before I was forced to ascertain your attention, was that the number of couples here are far too large. For your own wedding, Charles, we must have fewer. Hardly anyone has greeted you with the proper deference you deserve!”
Deference. Was that all his mother truly worried about? Charles tried to smile at his mother, her eyes still as clear and direct as they had been when he was a child.
Nothing got past her. He should have known not to bring her.
“I am hardly the most senior person here, Mama,” he said aloud, trying to seek a way out of the conversation that did not lead to a telling-off like he was six years old, and not almost six and twenty. “Being a duke, alas, is not a guarantee of servility, and neither should it be.”
But his latter words were ignored.
“Not the most senior person here? I would like to see anyone with more nobility in their veins!” sniffed the dowager. “Come now, even the Duke of Axwick has not stayed long, a marked sign of offence to the poor…viscount, did you say?”
Charles smiled. Despite all his mother’s prickles, he knew it came from a place of fear, and for that, he could never truly despise her. Born a mere viscount’s daughter, she had married well and sought to leave her past behind her.
“Yes,” he said gently. “Patrick O’Leary, Viscount Donal. There he is, with his bride.”
The dowager followed her son’s nod and sniffed again. “A very pretty girl, I dare say, but must she wear those spectacles? They ruin a face, my boy, and someone should tell her. Now Frances, of course, has a natural beauty unimpaired by any…”
It was impossible to hold his attention, and his mother had moved to the one topic of conversation that he simply could not abide.
“…and I think their idea to serve ices an excellent one, we must add that to your wedding plans – but the punch! Simply not to be borne, the quality is disgraceful. I thought in church that…”
The words washed over him, but like a great boulder, Charles was unmoved.
A month. He would be wed in a month. Four short weeks of freedom – and they would be freedom compared to what awaited him – and then he would be shackled for the rest of his days to Miss Frances Lloyd.
Charles shifted his feet and allowed his gaze to wander around the room. So
