The Duke's Secret Cinderella by Eva Devon

Author:Eva Devon [Devon, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cinderella;retelling;duke;dowager duchess;London;England;ton;Season;earl;stepfather;stepsister;stepbrother;orphan;secret identity;princess;Ponce de Leon;France;Europe;heiress;Historical Romances;Regency Historical Romance;Women's Historical Fiction;Historical European Fiction;The Duke’s Secret Cinderella;The Duke’s Secret Cinderella by Eva Devon;Historical Romance book;Cinderella retelling;England;London;Europe;duke;duchess;rake;scandal;spinster;Regency romance book;Entangled Publishing;Amara;Mass Market Paperback romance;single title romance;stand alone romance;series romance book;Matchmaker romance;duke romance;Royalty Romance;Women’s Fiction romance;Eva Devon;Modern Historical romance;Funny Historical romance books;Books like Bridgerton;Scandalous historical romance;Rogue historical hero;dukes;Never A Wallflower;Never a Wallflower series;ugly duckling;opposites attract;wallflower;fake relationship;Spinster and the Rake by Eva Devon;Much Ado About Dukes by Eva Devon;New romance book;popular romance book;popular historical romance;what to read after bridgerton;sexy historical book;sexy regency book;spicy regency books;spicy historical books;adult romance books
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-11-13T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The silence terrified Charlotte far more than any screaming could have done.

Palmerton sat opposite her on the damask-covered coach seat, his hands resting on his knees as he stared straight ahead.

She and Francesca remained in absolute stillness, waiting… Waiting for the explosion that was sure to come.

But perhaps, just perhaps, if she and Francesca were quiet, somehow the worst of it could be avoided.

If they just held still enough, if they did not move, perhaps they could avoid his fury.

If they were careful, if they didn’t say the wrong thing, perhaps, just perhaps, somehow they’d escape it.

After all, a duke was now within reach. All the power and influence that Palmerton craved was at his fingertips.

Would that not mollify him?

Of course it would not. Not if the duke wanted Charlotte.

She could scarce breathe, as if a storm was rolling in, ready to crush her.

The waiting nearly undid her.

Francesca was pale, her body rigid.

She knew she must be, too. The blood had drained from her stepsister’s face, and this was significantly due to her own doing. Her lies. The duke was meant for Francesca, not for her.

It was not her fault that her guardian was selfish, manipulative, and able to make the lives of those within his power hell.

But she was in his power. As was Francesca.

When she had gone to rescue Stevenson, she had not meant for any of this to happen. How could she have foreseen it?

In her wildest dreams, she truly could not have believed a duke would be pursuing her. Even if it was because of her lie.

Lady Charlotte had unlocked a set of events that was unavoidable now. Lady Charlotte wasn’t afraid. No. She was bold. Fierce. And nothing stood in her way.

And suddenly she found herself blurting, “This is all because you had Stevenson locked away out of malice toward me. I met the duke, and he was kind… Unlike you—”

“Quiet,” her stepfather snapped, his eyes crackling with such anger that her breath was sucked out of her lungs. “You are still mine by the law, Charlotte. And you will obey me.”

The intensity of Palmerton’s voice shook her.

The clatter of the wheels on the cobbles, the loud crowds hawking their wares, and the general din of London vanished as his anger cut through the coach.

Charlotte snapped her mouth shut, her defiance dimming as the reality of her situation came back to her.

Francesca carefully took Charlotte’s hand under their skirts and gripped it tightly.

Palmerton had been violent before. But it had been years since they had felt his blows. He was more clever now about his punishments.

No, having raised his ire? His cruelty wouldn’t just be directed at her.

It wasn’t she that he would strike.

He might strike Francesca or go at Mary or Stevenson or the cook.

Palmerton was wily that way and a master of subtle brutality. It had been remarkably foolish of her to think that she could get away with any of this. To think that she should dare to have one night, one moment that would not have consequence.

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