♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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Prudence tossed, turned, and tossed again—but it was no use. No amount of warmth would soothe her, and no amount of soft pillows and thick blankets would change her thoughts.
With a scoff, she sat up straight and scooched to the middle of her mattress. She stared at her fireplace; each flicker, each crackle accompanied her shudders. Each rising flame mirrored her worries.
How soon would Céleste receive her letter? How soon could Prudence send another, requesting the maiden's aid in escaping a doomed marriage with a dreadful Duke?
"Dreadful Duke." She snarled. "Antoine almost made me marry him? And his wretched mother arranged it years ago?"
She shuddered. The word wretched burned her tongue as she realized how long she'd been oblivious to the coups and complots in Torrinni. Started by Edouard, then brought to fruition by Clémentine, and furthered—unknowingly—by Antoine.
She yanked her covers to her chin. "His Grace, Cornelius Schwartz, Duke of Terter... and me, his wife?" She gagged. "No, I cannot let this happen."
Having cried enough tears back in Torrinni, when she'd first found out this atrocity, she now, instead, experienced supreme sickness bubbling in her gut.
She choked at the image of his dirty blond curls, his devilish eyes devoid of affection, and his muscular—likely violent—body. Those far-from-soft hands that gestured while he spewed profanities from his foul mouth. Nothing appealed Prudence into considering him a match, as Romain had called him.
Peering at the fireplace once more, she sighted the poker off to the side, its iron surface glinting in the firelight. She had half a mind to grab the thing and wander about the castle in the darkness, in search of his rooms, and to stab him until he relented. Or died.
Either works for me.
But she'd get lost, having no clue where his rooms were. Perhaps she might stash a weapon in her skirts and be prepared for their next meeting. Would anyone blame a Princess for defending herself against a monster?
"Oh, you fool." She laughed at herself. Slice a man open with a fire-poker? Her only usage of physical violence had been to slap a man, and she'd regretted it instantly. Her thoughts were strong, but her willpower was weak. She refused to become a murderer. To become Edouard.
She'd have to use tactics, employ ruses to convince her brother to not let this go on. Maybe in her next note to Céleste she'd request proof of Cornelius' crude attitudes; maybe someone at the castle had inside information on his antics while in Totresia.
"Who is this bride he found by some miracle?" She released the covers and crossed her arms. "It was too coincidental. He has had her under his sleeve for a while, I bet." She recalled his confidence, the way he stood up to his monarch, the way he spoke as if on a mission. But would this mission be in Romain's benefit, or his?
