The Most Powerful Duke Ignored My Beautiful Sisters — And Made a Request That Stopped the Entire Ballroom
Part 1
The cream and gold ballroom blazed with hundreds of candles.
My mother adjusted the modest lace collar of my gown with a disappointed sigh.
She reminded me, yet again, not to blend into the wallpaper tonight.
It was a hopeless request.
Beside my older sister Heather, whose engagement we were celebrating, I faded into absolute obscurity.
Heather possessed luminous eyes and golden curls that seemed to capture every ounce of candlelight in the room.
My younger sister, Lauren, laughed merrily across the floor, surrounded by a flock of eager suitors.
I occupied the cruelest position in our family.
I was simply Megan Hughes, the plain middle daughter.
My destiny was written in the pitying whispers of our neighbors.
I found my only solace in the quiet corners of our manor, reading worn novels and writing secret stories.
Just last month, a gentleman I had genuinely cared for asked for Heather’s hand after a single waltz.
My father patted my shoulder as he passed.
His kind reassurance that I might meet someone suitable only stung deeper.
Suitable meant any man willing to overlook my profound ordinariness.
Mr. Davis, our balding vicar, approached with a cup of punch.
I accepted the crystal cup, wrapping my fingers tightly around the cool glass.
My mother nodded approvingly from across the room.
The vicar was exactly the sort of comfortable match my family expected for me.
The musicians suddenly faltered in their rhythm.
A sudden hush rippled through the assembly.
The crowd parted like water retreating from a shore.
Whispers of awe and disbelief swept through the room.
The Duke of Ashbourne had arrived.
Arthur Pendelton was the most sought-after bachelor in all of England.
His vast fortune was matched only by his striking appearance.
He carried himself with the easy confidence of a man who had never been denied a single request in his life.
My mother nearly tripped over her own feet rushing forward to welcome him.
She practically dragged Heather and Lauren into his path.
I remained pressed against the wall.
My presence was entirely unnecessary for such an illustrious introduction.
The Duke bowed politely to my beautiful sisters.
His chiseled features revealed absolutely nothing of his thoughts.
Then his piercing gray eyes swept past them.
His gaze locked directly onto mine across the crowded room.
A peculiar stillness settled over his face.
I quickly looked down at my punch, certain I had committed some unpardonable faux pas by staring.
Heavy footsteps approached my quiet corner.
I dared to glance up.
The Duke of Ashbourne was standing mere inches away from me.
His voice rumbled deep and rich, like aged brandy.
He addressed me by my full name.
I glanced behind my shoulder, utterly convinced he was speaking to someone else.
Finding empty space, I managed a stammering reply.
He extended a white-gloved hand.
The entire ballroom seemed to collectively hold its breath.
From the corner of my eye, I caught my mother’s slack-jawed astonishment.
I quietly suggested there must be a misunderstanding.
I offered to introduce him to Heather, the bride-to-be, or the lovely Lauren.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He stated he was perfectly aware of my identity.
He asked if I would dance with him, or if we should continue making a spectacle of ourselves.
Bewildered, I placed my trembling hand in his.
The whispers erupted the moment we stepped onto the polished floor.
Guests speculated he was merely being polite.
Others muttered he must have lost a cruel wager.
I lifted my chin, determined to face this mockery with whatever dignity I possessed.
The country dance forced us to separate and rejoin repeatedly.
Every time our hands met, his intense gaze made my breath catch in my throat.
He moved with practiced, fluid grace despite his imposing height.
He noted my troubled expression over the swell of the violins.
I admitted I could not fathom why he would single me out for amusement.
His voice hardened with sudden steel.
He assured me he did not amuse himself at the expense of others.
He asked if it was truly so difficult to believe he genuinely desired my company.
I swallowed the bitter truth that yes, it was entirely impossible to believe.
I offered a polite, deflective courtesy instead.
He suddenly asked me to call him Arthur.
I nearly trampled his polished boots in shock.
He leaned closer, asking what occupied my mind when I stood in corners observing everyone else.
The music ended before I could formulate a coherent thought.
He bowed deeply, promising to call upon me the following morning.
He walked away, leaving me stranded in the center of the floor.
My mother’s excitement the next day reached a fever pitch.
She insisted I wear my blue gown and do something presentable with my unremarkable brown hair.
Lauren openly questioned why a Duke would want me when Heather was practically a diamond.
Heather surprisingly defended me, noting the Duke looked at me as if he recognized me.
That was absurd.
I had never met Arthur Pendelton before last night.
His magnificent carriage arrived at precisely the acceptable hour.
The entire family scrambled to their feet when he entered our modest drawing room.
My mother sank into a curtsy so deep she nearly swept the floorboards.
He greeted them briefly before turning his full attention to me.
His expression visibly softened.
He requested I show him our gardens, claiming a deep admiration for horticulture.
My mother practically shoved me out the glass doors.
We walked in heavy silence along the winding gravel paths.
He shortened his long strides to match my hesitant pace.
He finally acknowledged my confusion.
I confessed I did not know what to think of his sudden attentions.
He stopped beneath the shade of an elm tree.
He turned to face me fully.
He asked, with a voice full of quiet desperation, if I truly did not recognize him.
My brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
He spoke of a gangly boy who visited this estate twelve years ago.
He described finding a little girl weeping beside the stream because her sisters received dolls and she received nothing.
My breath hitched in my chest.
A long-buried memory rushed to the surface.
I stared into the gray eyes of the most powerful man in England.
I realized the boy who had carved me a magic wand out of a willow branch was standing right in front of me.
