The Unwanted Duchess Claims Her Throne

fury. "Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?" He

original Elenore would have

ot in panic, but with deliberate speed. Thumb and forefinger found the pressure point on the

recoiled, shaking his hand in stunned disbelief. For a split second, his face was a portra

o can't control himself on his own wedding

her protector falter. She launched herself

catching her ankle. Wrapped in the cumbersome sheet, Isabelle had no balance. She went down with a graceless squawk, landing in a heap on t

ed like a predator-economical, lethal, utterly controlled. He had seen trained soldiers with less precision. A slow, dangerous curiosity

stiges of aristocratic composure vanished. "Ele

arriage was a favor to your father. Your family clings to its status by a thread. I can make yo

he original Elenore hostage. The fear of d

lenore, it wa

at? Petition the King? Tell him you wish to annul a politically advantag

about consolidating power. To break it on a whim, for a sordid affair with

She was right, an

isting everything!" she sobbed, clutching his arm. "She forced me! She threatened

e, elaborate. Did I drug you too? Did I tie you to the headboard? Did I stand over you with a knife and demand you pleasure my husband on my wedding night?" She tilted her head, mockery dripping from every syllabl

outh opened and closed like a landed fish, but no words came. She had been stri

ssembled his mask of detached nobility. "It seems we need to have a di

wer-a desperate, clumsy attempt t

pushed it open a crack. A sliver of cold, clean night air sliced through the room's cloying sweetness.

gainst the dark glass. "What I want? It's very

it took him a moment to process. Isabelle's eyes widened wit

House of Hawthorne is an inn you can simply come and go from as you pleas

ite clearly, that it was you, Sterling Hawthorne, who was unfaithful on our we

her way out. Isabelle's joy vanished, replaced by horror. If that document was

lammed his fist onto a nearby mahogany table. The soun

" she said, her voice soft and lethal. "You wanted a Duchess, Sterling. Now you have one.

vision swam, the edges of the room blurring into darkness. She locked her knees, forcing herself to sta

ensing wounded prey. "You're fading," he murmured, his voice dropping to a

into a smile that made Sterling pause mid-step. "Every game ends," she whispered. "The question is

oment, Sterling Hawthorne understood, with a chill that traced down his spine, tha