My Arranged Bride Didn’t Know I Was The Duke — Until Her Sister Mocked Her

Part 1

Arriving three days early to meet my arranged bride gave me the perfect cover.

Leaving my expensive carriage and tailored coats far behind in the city felt necessary.

Instead of luxury, a worn brown jacket and a tired post horse accompanied me through the pouring rain.

Seeing who Vivian truly was before tying my entire life to hers was my only goal.

Desperate mothers had lied to me countless times before.

Ambitious women had smiled at me after practicing their laughs in front of a mirror until they were perfect.

Greedy fathers had courted me purely to secure my immense wealth and settle their massive gambling debts.

At thirty-one years old, refusing to be played for a fool ever again became my solemn vow.

So I made a choice that would change everything.

I introduced myself at her father’s struggling estate as Mr.

Crane.

I claimed to be a humble surveyor hired to inspect their failing drainage system.

The very first time I laid eyes on Vivian, she was kneeling in the cold mud.

Out in the driving rain, the eldest daughter was helping a local baker’s boy fix his broken cart wheel.

A faded blue dress, clumsily mended at the cuffs, hung loosely from her frame.

Her hem was soaked through with muddy water and dragging heavily in the dirt.

Pampered future Duchesses waiting to be rescued did not look anything like this.

Instead, a resilient and fierce woman worked tirelessly with her own hands.

I knelt right beside her in the wet grass to help with the heavy wooden wheel.

She didn’t flinch away from the thick dirt or my rough, travel-stained appearance.

She thanked me with perfect ease and a breathtakingly genuine smile.

She even kindly invited me up to the main house for a warm meal and dry clothes.

She didn’t have a single clue that I was the wealthy Duke she was supposed to marry in just a few days.

That evening at dinner, her younger sister Cecily came down wearing a brand new silk dress and fresh pearls.

Cecily sat directly across from me and openly mocked her older sister’s worn-out clothes.

Cecily laughed bitterly while pointing out Vivian’s muddy hem to a complete stranger.

“She looks like she’s been pulled backward through a thorny hedge,” Cecily sneered.

“The Duke will take one look at her and ride straight back to London in absolute disgust.”

I sat there quietly eating my hot soup.

I slowly counted to five just to keep myself from snapping my heavy silver spoon in half.

I calmly told Cecily that Dukes rarely had enough sense to care about gowns anyway.

Cecily just rolled her eyes at the lowly surveyor daring to speak up to her.

The Earl sat at the head of the table looking completely exhausted and defeated by life.

He didn’t have the strength to stop his youngest daughter’s incredibly cruel words.

Over the next two days, I silently watched Vivian hold her family’s crumbling estate together.

Walking the muddy fields with me for hours allowed her to point out the broken ditches.

Knowledge of the land came more naturally to her than to any hired man on the entire sprawling property.

Complaints about the biting cold wind or the ruined state of her old boots never crossed her lips.

I saw her sit at the long scrubbed table with the exhausted kitchen servants late at night.

Gently touching the old cook’s wrist, Vivian asked affectionately about the woman’s son in the navy.

I watched as her own precious childhood handkerchief became a bandage for a crying child’s scraped knee.

Getting dirt all over her only decent skirt did not bother her for a single second.

Words of thanks or praise were never demanded from anyone.

Doing the incredibly hard work simply needed to be done.

I also saw the arrogant estate steward stealing money right from under her father’s nose.

Vivian suspected the awful man but she had no solid proof to finally stop him.

I had all the proof I needed after a quick glance at his poorly cooked ledgers.

I secretly wrote an urgent letter to my solicitor in London to spring the trap.

I couldn’t stand watching Vivian carry the heavy weight of the world on her delicate shoulders for another minute.

The next morning, I knew I couldn’t keep the cruel lie going any longer.

I found her sitting completely alone at a small table by the window.

She looked utterly exhausted as she stared blankly at her untouched tea.

I asked Vivian to meet me privately in the quiet library.

I watched her close the heavy oak door behind her with a soft click.

She stood leaning against the wood as if she was preparing to escape the room.

I took a deep, shaky breath.

“My name is not Crane,” I told her quietly.

“I am Dorian, the Duke of Marlow.”

The color completely drained from her beautiful face.