The Wedding Night Was a Cold Duty-Until the Duke Discovered the Marks She Hid Under Silk and Lace

a pale, slender thing swallowed by heavy brocade and lace, reciting her vows with the mechanical precision of a wind-up toy. She was twenty, perhaps twenty-one. Plain by the town’s glittering standards. Ash-blonde hair pulled back too tightly, sharp cheekbones, eyes the color of a bruised winter sky.

“You are cold,” he observed. He didn’t ask; he stated continue reading …