Hidden Places, Book 1 of Autumn Club Series

Chapter 1

Katrina Hughes stood in the circle of her debutante friends. The first ball of the season was a crush, and the small group of girls stood elbow to elbow in a corner near a rather voluminous potted plant.

Katrina referred to these three particular young ladies as the Autumn Club. They were all in their third season, and like Autumn, they were beginning to show signs of impending Winter. A cold, unwed life.

For Katrina, a life of Winter seemed quite nice. A spinster could become a lady's companion or the doting auntie to her brother's future little hellions. She could read all day, take walks in the park, and perhaps take up a new hobby.

The other three debutants could not stomach the idea, the thought was unfathomable. Spinsterhood was a title of shame and a lonely prison sentence.

Sybil Hastings was her friend from childhood. Their country estates shared a border, and they spent most of their free time together. They also spent the prior two seasons circling the dance floors and flirting with men of the ton. Sybil's family was large, and this third season was taking a financial toll. She was told this was it - if she didn't find a husband, she would be a ladies companion to her great aunt Ester. Lady Ester was a bitter but wealthy widow that loved gossip and lived vicariously through her niece.

Although Katrina's family could afford more than three seasons, they still decided that enough was enough since Katrina didn't even try to find a husband. Katrina's brother, Reginald Hughes, was the Earl of Pembroke, taking up her father's mantle when he passed a few years back. He supports their mother and Katrina, but has yet to begin his own family. Katrina hated the double standard since he was 8 years her senior and had not even considered a wife - spending his time with his drunken friends.

"Don't look now, but the new Duke of Harrington is standing at the top of the steps!" Sybil exclaimed from her vantage point.

Sybil knew all the titled gentlemen and ton gossip from her great aunt. Every carriage ride with her aunt included a play-by-play of every relationship, scandal and every bit twiddle twaddle she knew. So recognizing the mysterious duke was no surprise to the group.

Gabriel Lawrence the Duke of Harrington gained his title after his father's recent passing and a long sojourn in India and the European continent. Word among the ton was he returned hugely muscled with no hair on his head and artwork adorning parts of his body. Rumor had it that before leaving for India he was a notorious rake that drank, boxed, and hit women. And now he was looking for a duchess to fulfill his duty as a duke - to make an heir.

Since Katrina stood to Sybil's immediate right, despite Sybil's warning not to look, she immediately glanced toward the staircase.

On the landing stood a man that towered over the men surrounding him. His head was shaved extremely short with no wig or hat in sight. The gentleman stood like he owned the room with the posture of the king, and the body of a brute hidden under well-tailored silk.

Katrina heard Sybil describe him to the other girls with them interjecting with bits of gossip they had heard from their mommas and maids. But Katrina couldn't stop looking. Staring at the commanding force in front of her, watching his muscled frame flex as he turned to observe the crowd.

As though he felt her eyes, the duke slowly turned his head in the direction of the Autumn Club. His assessing dark eyes landed on Katrina's stare. It dared her to look away.

A chill of fear worked down Katrina's spine. His face was hard and unreadable.

Her eyes darted to her friends. Perhaps she was mistaken and he was looking at them. But the girls were in a huddle still gossiping.

"My brother said the duke will discipline his wife as one would a child! He plans to spank her when he gets angry." Beatrix whispered. Beatrix Crosby was nearly ruined during their first season. Men avoided her fearing she would lead them to the parson's noose before they were ready. It was unfortunate because she was very pretty and kind - just too naive for her own good. Her father spoke often of her marrying a recent widower that was twice her age.

"I heard the same! He is supposedly very controlling. He never kept mistresses or whores because he felt he should never 'rent' things that he should 'own!'" Camilla added. Camilla Wentworth rounded out the club as a brash only child. She had bright red hair and a figure full of curves, despite being quite short. Camilla spoke of whores and mistresses, cocks and pussies like she was talking about tea or some other mundane topic. Her mother constantly swatted her with her fan as a scold. It didn't work - she was a troublemaker at heart.

"Can you believe the arrogance?! Men can't own people. The nerve of him." Sybil huffed out.

Katrina couldn't believe what she was hearing. Would he own his wife and control her every move? Did a man truly deserve this type of devotion and servitude? Like a bloody slave!

When Katrina settled her nerves and digested the conversation, she looked back toward the stairs. Luckily the duke had left his command post, and a sigh of relief and disappointment left Katrina's lips.

As her friends turned their conversation to other bachelors, Katrina looked at her dress, running her gloved hands down the slight wrinkles in the silk. It was a light silver with an empire waist and a neckline that showed a little more cleavage than she was used to even after years of balls and fancy dinner parties, but far less cleavage than other debutants.

She patted the long brown curls always trying to escape their confinement, and straightened her spectacles, which her mother hated and swore led her to being spinster-adjacent. Katrina agreed and swore to herself to wear them to all social gatherings.

With her spectacles in place, she complained about the heat and excused herself from her friends. To the refreshments or the terrace? The decision was made for her when she spotted the Duke of Harrington in a conversation a few steps from the punch. When he glanced up from the young blonde debutant and her mother, Katrina spun on her heel and headed to the terrace door.

The night air helped cool down her skin, but not her nerves. Why did she feel like prey every time he looked at her? His eyes were so serious. They weren't to be questioned. There was no doubting their intent...whatever that could possibly be.

Trying to shake that feeling, Katrina thought it was no concern of hers. Even with the reservations about his character and looks, the duke could marry any eligible woman of the ton. The young girls undoubtedly fear him, even with their mothers reassurances that he would raise their standing in society and allow them to have riches beyond their dreams. If Katrina's mother thought she had a chance with the duke, she too would be telling her to ignore her fears. But she knew better - there was no duke in her future. Thank goodness.

As she looked out at the garden, Katrina sensed and heard couples milling about, speaking in soft tones, giggling at flirtatious jokes. She moved off to the shadows below the terrace wall, and slowly walked the perimeter dragging her now ungloved hand along the wall.

She stopped and turned near a window that gave some light to the garden. A golden ember could be seen a few feet in front of her. It moved up, grew larger and illuminated a familiar face.

The duke.