The Duke Do-Over - Exclusive Dukes and Secrets Short story

Amidst the glamor of a Christmas musical competition, Lady Isabella Greene captivates the audience with her enchanting pianoforte performance, concealing both her identity and the heartache beneath her snowflake mask. The Duke of Thornleigh watches from the shadows, immediately recognizing the woman he abandoned three years ago on Christmas Day.

When a competitor's scheme and a champagne catastrophe force them into an unexpected reunion, Isabella and Christian find themselves snowbound in a secluded library. There, Christian must confront his cowardly past decision to choose wealth over love, while Isabella must decide if she can trust the reformed rake who still holds her heart.

As the snowstorm rages outside, old passions reignite—but will Isabella's mother's plans for another suitor extinguish their second chance at love?

London, 1814

It was her.

He’d recognize her anywhere, mask or not.

Christian Gillies, the Duke of Thornleigh, looked around the room. It was clear no one else in the audience knew it was Lady Isabella Greene playing the pianoforte as though the instrument was her friend, her sibling, her twin.

Her white mask, adorned with lace snowflakes and feathers, concealed the upper half of her face yet reflected the light of hundreds of candles, illuminating her shiny, golden hair styled in a high chignon.

With swift, graceful movements, her fingers danced over the keys of the instrument. Its polished mahogany case gleamed in the soft light, the delicate inlaid brass ormolu lining the edges. “Pathétique Sonata” by Ludwig van Beethoven emanated, powerful and entrancing.

He knew the curve of her long, elegant neck, the angle of her straight shoulders and her back as she played. He’d never forget the taste of her soft, sweet lips, the slight curve of her breasts which had felt so perfect in his hands and against his tongue.

He clenched his fist around the stem of the champagne glass, guilt gnawing at him for the way he had left her—a decision he now saw as nothing short of cowardly.

“She’s quite spectacular,” said his sister-in-law, Harriet, the tall, brown-haired woman who stood next to him.

The grand salon of Viscount Kitson’s opulent townhouse was a sight to behold, with its gilded moldings, richly draped windows, and warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the polished marble floors.

A festive spirit permeated the air. The room was adorned with boughs of holly, with dark, glossy leaves and bright red berries meticulously arranged along the mantels. Ivy draped gracefully over doorways and wound its way up the banisters. And sprigs of mistletoe were strategically placed, inviting moments of stolen kisses and shared laughter among the guests.

It was the perfect setting for the Viscount’s eccentric and highly anticipated Christmas masquerade event—a musical competition that had piqued the interest of London’s high society.

Kitson’s goal was to make the competition fair and unbiased. Everyone—guests, musicians, and judges alike—had to come disguised…