Before She Ruled (Before Series, Book 1)

Chapter Three

Addie sat in the opulent carriage, each rocking motion slamming a slice of reality into her. She had treated the duke with reproach in the street, but now she must retrain her tongue to be that of a maid's once more. She must do it regardless of whether or not the unusual duke seemed amused by it. Addie could not afford to draw attention to herself or slip up as she had done with Lord Hawthorne.

As a princess, Addie had always been the quiet one. In fact, on the cold night that Addie's family had died, her brother, Charles, had been teasing her for becoming all shy and tongue-tied around a Prussian prince that had come to visit their family the week prior.

The memory threatened to bring tears to her eyes—the vision of her brother's face right before the crash. But Addie mentally hung onto the picture of him smiling and only that. She refused to think about what had happened next. God, she missed Charles and the way he would always make her laugh.

Addie had been only slightly bothered by his needling that night, since there was admittedly some truth to it. Before the accident, Addie had always struggled to get her words out straight, especially when attention was on her—an irritating problem to have when one was supposed to be poised and articulate.

Poised and articulate. Those were two descriptors that had never been used to describe her. Of that, she was certain. A lovely person, no doubt, was something she often heard, but it was, of course, indiscernible what exactly they were referring to. Was it her lovely golden hair? Or perhaps her lovely gown? Her lovely charm? No one really knew, least of all her.

How ironic that after years of struggling to get her words out she should find herself sacked for doing that very thing. Addie wasn't entirely surprised, however. Ever since she had become a person of little consequence, it seemed that words flew to the tip of her tongue, except that now she had to bite them down. No one desired to hear the thoughts of a lady's maid. And so it seemed she was in constant battle between her inner thoughts and her open mouth.

If Addie could go back to being a princess, the things she would say...

But that wasn't possible. It would never be possible.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door swung open. Once again, the duke offered her his hand, and Addie took it gratefully, murmuring her thanks. He helped her down, assisting her quietly to the house. Addie tried to maintain her composure, but it was hard when her ankle was aching and the duke's eyes were boring into hers from above.

Addie's eyes raked quickly over the man while she tried to think if she knew anything about His Grace. There were not that many dukedoms in England's high society, after all. She did recall that the previous duke and duchess had died when the man before her was, well, not yet a man.

Addie was almost certain that the late Duke of Kingfield had had mutual friends with her father, King William IV, but she had no recollection of ever meeting him. And if the present duke had ever moved in those same circles, Addie was oblivious to it. She had only ever heard his name from the gossip columns.

Queen Adelaide had not allowed her daughter to read any of the rags that circulated through the beau monde, vehemently opposed to such talk. In fact, her mother had had a disapproving attitude toward a great many things, leaving Addie relatively sheltered in her young life. So when Addie had first gotten her hands on one of Liza's copies of Mischief in Mayfair, she had raptly absorbed it.

The Duke of Kingfield...what had it said of him? She did not believe any of it was particularly bad, but nor was it particularly good. If she recalled correctly, the quality reporting of Madame Mischief had primarily focused on his potential marriage prospects. Or more accurately, his disinterest in pursuing such prospects, much to the dismay of many aristocratic ladies.