The Duke Goes Down by Sophie Jordan

Author:Sophie Jordan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2021-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

Imogen knew the moment her cousins arrived.

The more dramatic side of her nature believed she sensed it like a change in the air: a slight dropping in temperature or shift in the wind that raised her skin to gooseflesh. She shivered and rushed to the window, peering out the crack through the sheer curtains.

Indeed, they were here, despite all her wishing to the contrary and that letter they sent proclaiming that very intention. Their fine carriage came down the lane like a fateful zephyr.

Papa’s sister, Aunt Bernadine, had married well. As she and Uncle Hugh had been blessed with only Winifred, they’d left their very prosperous haberdashery business to Winnie—or rather to Winnie’s husband. Not that Uncle Hugh was deceased. He merely gave little attention to the business these days.

From Winnie’s letters, Edgar managed their half dozen haberdashery shops, overseeing the day-to-day running of operations whilst Uncle Hugh spent his days poring over puzzles and his evenings dining and playing cards at his club.

She watched as the conveyance lumbered its way toward her house, her throat thickening as it did.

The carriage stopped with a creak of wheels.

A stone lodged itself in her throat as the driver hopped down to open the door for her cousins to descend.

They were here.

Imogen took a gulping breath.

She would have to face them and be normal around them. Whatever that might be. She was not even certain what constituted normal. How did one behave normally after everything that had transpired?

Eight years had passed, but she had not forgotten. The pain had subsided, but the lesson had been learned, and, truth be told, there was still the abiding humiliation.

She watched the carriage, exhaling heavily, waiting for them to emerge.

The driver opened the door and held a hand up to her cousin. Winifred descended gracefully, lovely and elegant in her traveling gown of cobalt blue, a driving cap covering her golden curls. Edgar, her wretched husband, followed.

Imogen sucked in a sharp breath, bracing herself.

She’d seen them only once since their wedding day and that was when Imogen and Papa traveled for Aunt Bernadine’s funeral two years ago. The visit had been thankfully brief. They had not even stayed overnight, instead staying with one of Papa’s friends from his school days. They had not wished to burden their grief-stricken relations—much to Imogen’s relief.

But now they were here, and she knew. There would be no hiding. No escape.

This would be unbearable.

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