Fate Is A Stranger: Regency Romance Read Online Free
Author: Gloria Gay
was, and she must fight not only the duke, but herself as well, if she was to succeed—and she must succeed, of that there was no question.
She knew in her heart that the trust her father had placed in her was a treasure she would die before betraying.
She would never become anyone's mistress, neither the duke's, or any other man's.
Lord Kelly had fallen from grace by marrying her mother and acknowledging Violet, and she had never seen the slightest hint of regret in him in the years that followed. He seemed the happiest of men. He had not only acknowledged her publicly and legally as his daughter and given her a home with him, but he had given her his name , as well, the most precious gift of all. She would never betray that trust and that gift by becoming what she most hated becoming in this life— a kept whore .
Serenity passed over her face like mist. There was nothing to be worried about, after all. Her determination would be the beacon that lighted her way—steadfast before her until the day she died. The duke could not succeed against her determination. The only way he could succeed was by force, and Violet was certain he would never use force against her. She was a good judge of character.
The endless recital, the longest in the duke's memory, finally came to an end and he saw that the small orchestra was beginning to play the opening dance. He headed straight to where Violet was. At the same time a pale and scrawny young man—Sir Ashtin Blakely—had timidly approached her.
The duke was not within earshot but he was almost certain that Violet had agreed to a dance before the young man had asked. He could tell by the surprised pleasure in the young man's eyes and the way that Violet hurriedly wove her arm through his.
Young Ashtin led Violet to the dance floor and the duke would have been increasingly bemused if he had heard Violet encourage the delighted young man into asking her for the following waltz.
CHAPTER 3
The duke viewed these two dances as he stood by the wall, shooing off with a deterring look anyone who approached him.
He was becoming increasingly frustrated. Was the girl going to evade him all night?
And that was precisely what Violet intended as she crossed the ballroom in the arm of the same young man and went to where the young man's friends were. She then managed, before the duke was able to cross the ballroom floor, to assign them all dances, successfully filling up all her time for the evening.
Well, she was allowed the opening volley, thought the duke, smiling, and one must admit there was something plucky and enterprising in the way Violet had evaded him. The duke crossed the ballroom just as a waltz was about to start and approached Violet.
Without ceremony he took her hand and as the first notes of the waltz began he bowed before her, his eyes looking intently into hers.
"Ah, Miss Durbin, I must entreat you to honor me with the supper waltz."
"But I have no dances left to give, your grace," said Violet, "the supper dance is taken."
"Ah, but you do," said the duke, " now ," he added as he led her to the dance floor among the other couples.
There was not a man young or old in the room who would challenge the duke’s action. Certainly she could not, thought Violet, giving in for the moment. And certainly young William Cordeville, realizing his dance with Violet had been usurped, thought better than to make a scene. Instead, melting under Hawkinston's withering gaze, he retreated, with a quick glance at his father, Sir Galloway, who motioned him away with a warning shake of the head.
"You can start by telling me, Miss Durbin," asked the duke, "where you have been hiding all these years."
"Hiding in plain sight," said Violet.
Violet felt her heart thud alarmingly under the silk of her ball gown and wondered if she would ever again be completely composed in the duke's company. Each moment near him made her more susceptible to him and she was silent for the
She knew in her heart that the trust her father had placed in her was a treasure she would die before betraying.
She would never become anyone's mistress, neither the duke's, or any other man's.
Lord Kelly had fallen from grace by marrying her mother and acknowledging Violet, and she had never seen the slightest hint of regret in him in the years that followed. He seemed the happiest of men. He had not only acknowledged her publicly and legally as his daughter and given her a home with him, but he had given her his name , as well, the most precious gift of all. She would never betray that trust and that gift by becoming what she most hated becoming in this life— a kept whore .
Serenity passed over her face like mist. There was nothing to be worried about, after all. Her determination would be the beacon that lighted her way—steadfast before her until the day she died. The duke could not succeed against her determination. The only way he could succeed was by force, and Violet was certain he would never use force against her. She was a good judge of character.
The endless recital, the longest in the duke's memory, finally came to an end and he saw that the small orchestra was beginning to play the opening dance. He headed straight to where Violet was. At the same time a pale and scrawny young man—Sir Ashtin Blakely—had timidly approached her.
The duke was not within earshot but he was almost certain that Violet had agreed to a dance before the young man had asked. He could tell by the surprised pleasure in the young man's eyes and the way that Violet hurriedly wove her arm through his.
Young Ashtin led Violet to the dance floor and the duke would have been increasingly bemused if he had heard Violet encourage the delighted young man into asking her for the following waltz.
CHAPTER 3
The duke viewed these two dances as he stood by the wall, shooing off with a deterring look anyone who approached him.
He was becoming increasingly frustrated. Was the girl going to evade him all night?
And that was precisely what Violet intended as she crossed the ballroom in the arm of the same young man and went to where the young man's friends were. She then managed, before the duke was able to cross the ballroom floor, to assign them all dances, successfully filling up all her time for the evening.
Well, she was allowed the opening volley, thought the duke, smiling, and one must admit there was something plucky and enterprising in the way Violet had evaded him. The duke crossed the ballroom just as a waltz was about to start and approached Violet.
Without ceremony he took her hand and as the first notes of the waltz began he bowed before her, his eyes looking intently into hers.
"Ah, Miss Durbin, I must entreat you to honor me with the supper waltz."
"But I have no dances left to give, your grace," said Violet, "the supper dance is taken."
"Ah, but you do," said the duke, " now ," he added as he led her to the dance floor among the other couples.
There was not a man young or old in the room who would challenge the duke’s action. Certainly she could not, thought Violet, giving in for the moment. And certainly young William Cordeville, realizing his dance with Violet had been usurped, thought better than to make a scene. Instead, melting under Hawkinston's withering gaze, he retreated, with a quick glance at his father, Sir Galloway, who motioned him away with a warning shake of the head.
"You can start by telling me, Miss Durbin," asked the duke, "where you have been hiding all these years."
"Hiding in plain sight," said Violet.
Violet felt her heart thud alarmingly under the silk of her ball gown and wondered if she would ever again be completely composed in the duke's company. Each moment near him made her more susceptible to him and she was silent for the
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