The Iron Duke Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF MELJEAN BROOK

  Demon Forged

  “Dark, rich, and sexy, every page makes me beg for more!”

  —Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author

  “Another fantastic book in a beautifully written series. [It] has all the elements I love in Meljean’s books—strong, gorgeously drawn characters, a world so real I totally believe it, and the punch of powerful emotion.”

  —Nalini Singh, New York Times bestselling author

  “A dark, gripping read . . . The characters are brilliant, and the breathtaking romance, vivid setting, and darkly delicious adventure will immerse readers in this spellbinding world until the satisfying conclusion.”

  —Romantic Times

  Demon Bound

  “An excellent entry in a great series . . . Another winner as the multifaceted Guardian saga continues to expand in complexity while remaining entertaining . . . As complex and beautifully done as always.”

  —Book Binge

  “Be prepared for more surprises and more revelations . . . Brook continues to deliver surprising characters, relationships, paranormal elements, and plot twists—the only thing that won’t surprise you is your total inability to put this book down.”

  —Alpha Heroes

  “Raises the bar on paranormal romance for sheer thrills, drama, and world-building, and hands-down cements Brook’s place at the top of her field.”

  —Romance Junkies

  Demon Night

  “Meljean is now officially one of my favorite authors. And this book’s hero? . . . I just went weak at the knees. And the love scenes—wow, just wow.”

  —Nalini Singh

  “This is the book for paranormal lovers. It is a phenomenal book by an author who knows how to give her readers exactly what they want. What Brook’s readers want is a story that is dangerous, sexy, scary, and smart. Demon Night delivers all that and more! . . . [It] is the epitome of what a paranormal romance should be! I didn’t want to put it down.”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “Poignant and compelling with lots of action, and it’s very sensual. You’ll fall in love with Charlie, and Ethan will cause your thermometer to blow its top. An excellent plot, wonderful dialogue . . . Don’t miss reading it or any of Meljean Brook’s other novels in this series.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “An intense romance that will leave you breathless . . . I was drawn in from the first page.”

  —Romance Junkies

  Demon Moon

  “The fourth book in Meljean Brook’s Guardian series turns up the heat without losing any of the danger.”

  —Entertainment Weekly

  “A read that goes down hot and sweet—utterly unique—and one hell of a ride.”

  —Marjorie M. Liu, New York Times bestselling author

  “Sensual and intriguing, Demon Moon is a simply wonderful book. I was enthralled from the first page!”

  —Nalini Singh

  “Brings a unique freshness to the romantic fantasy realm . . . Action-packed from the onset.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “I loved every moment of it.”

  —All About Romance

  “Fantastically drawn characters . . . and their passion for each other is palpable in each scene they share. It stews beneath the surface and when it finally reaches boiling point . . . OH WOW!”

  —Vampire Romance Books

  Demon Angel

  “I’ve never read anything like this book. Demon Angel is brilliant, heartbreaking, genre-bending—even, I dare say, epic. Simply put, I love it.”

  —Marjorie M. Liu

  “Brook has crafted a complex, interesting world that goes far beyond your usual . . . paranormal romance. Demon Angel truly soars.”

  —Jennifer Estep, author of Jinx

  “I can honestly say I haven’t read many books lately that have kept me guessing and wondering ‘what’s next,’ but this is one of them. [Brook has] created a unique and different world . . . Gritty and realistic . . . Incredibly inventive . . . This is a book which makes me think and think about it even days after finishing it.”

  —Dear Author

  “Enthralling . . . [A] delightful saga.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Extremely engaging . . . A fiendishly good book. Demon Angel is outstanding.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “A surefire winner. This book will captivate you and leave you yearning for more. Don’t miss Demon Angel.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “A fascinating romantic fantasy with . . . a delightful pairing of star-crossed lovers.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Complex and compelling . . . A fabulous story.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  FURTHER PRAISE FOR MELJEAN BROOK AND FOR “FALLING FOR ANTHONY” FROM HOT SPELL

  “An emotional roller coaster for both the characters and the reader. Brook has penned a story I am sure readers won’t soon forget . . . Extraordinary work.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “In-depth and intriguing. I loved the obvious thought and ideas put into writing this tale. The characters are deep, as is the world that is set up.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “Brook . . . creates fantastic death-defying love . . . Extremely erotic . . . With a paranormal twist.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Intriguing . . . The sex is piping hot.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “I look forward to many more tales from Ms. Brook.”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2010 by Melissa Khan.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / October 2010

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Brook, Meljean.

  The iron duke / Meljean Brook.—Berkley Sensation trade pbk. ed.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-44408-5

  I. Title.

  PS3602.R64274I76 2010

  813’.6—dc22

  2010028988

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Chapter One

  Mina hadn’t predicted that sugar would wreck the Marchioness of Hartington’s ball; she’d thought the dancing would. Their hostess’s good humor had weathered them through the discovery that fewer than forty of her guests knew the steps, however, and they’d survived the first quadrilles. But as the room grew warmer, the laughter louder, and the gossiping more vigorous, the refreshment table set the First Annual Victory Ball on a course for disaster.

  Which meant Mina was enjoying the event far more than she’d expected to.

  Not that it wasn’t as grand as everyone had said it would be; the restoration of Devonshire House had cost Hartington, and it showed. Candle-studded chandeliers displayed everyone in the great ballroom to their best advantage. Discreet gas lamps highlight
ed the enormous paintings gracing the room but their smoke had not yet smudged the silk-papered walls. Human musicians played in the gallery, and their violins did sound sweeter than the mechanical instruments Mina was accustomed to—and much sweeter than the hacking coughs from forty of the guests, all of them bounders.

  Two hundred years ago, when most of Europe was fleeing from the Horde’s war machines, some of the English had gone with them. But an ocean passage over the Atlantic hadn’t come cheaply, and although the families who’d abandoned England for the New World hadn’t all been aristocrats, they’d almost all been moneyed. After the Iron Duke had freed England from Horde control, many of them had returned to London, flaunting their titles and their gold. Now, nine years after England’s victory over the Horde, the aristocratic bounders had decided to hold a ball celebrating the country’s new-found freedom, though they had shed no blood to gain it. They’d charitably included all of the peers who had little to their names but their titles.

  At first glance, Mina could detect little distinction between the guests. The bounders spoke with flatter accents, and their women’s dresses exposed less skin at the neck and arms, but everyone’s togs were at the height of New World fashion. Mina suspected, however, that forty of the guests could not begin to guess how dear those new togs were to the rest of the company.

  And they probably could not anticipate how stubborn the rest of the company could be, despite their thirst and hunger.

  Near the southern wall of the ballroom, Mina sat with her friend and waited for the entertainment to begin. Considering Felicity’s condition, she might be the one to provide it. Pale blue satin covered her friend’s hugely pregnant abdomen. With such a belly to feed, Mina couldn’t see how Felicity wasn’t constantly ravenous, consuming everything in her path. If no sugarless cakes were available, she might start with the bounders.

  “If it has taken Richmond this long, he hasn’t found anything.” Beneath intricately curled blond hair that had made Mina burst into laughter when she had first seen it that evening, Felicity’s gaze searched the crowd for her husband. With a sigh, she turned to regard her friend. “Oh, Mina. You are too amused. I doubt anyone will break into fisticuffs.”

  “They should.”

  “You think it’s an insult to supply sweet and strong lemonade? To stack cakes like towers?” Felicity rubbed her belly and looked longingly toward the towers. Mina guessed that the cakes were supposed to have been demolished by now, symbolic of England’s victory over the Horde, but they still stood tall. “Surely, they did not realize how strongly we felt about it.”

  “Or they realized, but thought we must be shown like children that we can eat imported sugar without being enslaved.”

  Two hundred years ago, the Horde had hidden their nanoagents in tea and sugar like invisible bugs, and traded it on the cheap. The Horde had no navy, and even though Europe had fled before the Horde, Britain was protected by water and a strong fleet of ships. And so for years, they’d traded tea and sugar, and England had thought itself safe.

  Until the Horde had activated the bugs.

  Now, no one born in England trusted sugar unless it came from beets grown in British soil and processed in one of the recently built refineries—and after two hundred years of the Horde’s crippling taxes, no one had enough money to pay for the luxury, anyway. New to England, beet sugar was as precious as gold was to the French, and as Horde technology was to the smugglers in the Indian Ocean and South Seas.

  “You judge them too harshly, Mina. This ball itself is goodwill. And it must have been a great expense.” Felicity looked around almost despairingly, as if it pained her to think of how much had been spent.

  “Hartington can obviously afford it. Look how many candles.” Mina lifted her chin, gesturing at the chandelier.

  “Even your mother uses candles.”

  That wasn’t the same. Gas cost almost nothing; candles, especially wax tapers of good quality, rivaled sugar as a luxury. Her mother used candles during her League meetings, but only so the dim light would conceal the worst of the wear. Repeated scouring of the walls removed the smoke that penetrated every home in London, but had worn the paper down to the plaster. Rugs had been walked threadbare at the center. The sofa hadn’t been replaced since the Horde had invaded England. But at Devonshire House, there was no need for candles to forgive what brighter gas lamps revealed.

  “My mother will also make certain that each of her guests is comfortable.” Physically comfortable, at any rate. Mina supposed her mother could not help the discomforting effect that they both had on visitors. “Goodwill should not stab at scars, Felicity. Goodwill would have been desserts made with beet sugar or honey.”

  “Perhaps,” Felicity said, obviously unwilling to think so little of the bounders, but acknowledging that they could have been done better. She cast another glance at the towers of cake. “Mine would have mousse.”

  “Your what would have mousse?”

  “My table, if I gave a ball. Do not laugh, Mina. I might one day.”

  Even if her friend’s purse was full, Mina could not imagine Felicity loosening the strings enough to pay for anything resembling a ball. But her friend’s wistful expression caught Mina off guard. She swallowed her laugh and nodded.

  Taking that as an invitation to continue, Felicity said, “I’ve heard that in the Antilles, they have a mousse of Liberé chocolate so light that it floats away like an airship, and éclairs filled with cream. In Lusitania, they bake massa sovada so—”

  Mina shook away a vision of mousse envelopes floating about with éclairs tethered beneath. “Massa what?”

  “Portuguese sweet bread.” Felicity’s eyes widened innocently. “The Lamplighter Gazette has a new section featuring New World desserts. It follows their adventure serials. Surely you looked to the recipes after reading the last Archimedes Fox story?”

  Mina flushed and hoped the candlelight would hide it. Her family managed—barely—to employ two maids and a cook. Other families tended to their own homes; if left to Mina or her parents, they’d likely starve while their townhouse fell down around them.

  To cover her embarrassment, she said, “And so you would lay your table out like the northern American continent. Islands of mousse for the Antilles, a peninsula of Lusitanian bread topped by . . . ?” What did they eat in the Castilian wilderness? Mina had no idea—and she couldn’t ask a bounder. After losing almost all of their territory and the native trade routes to the Spanish, the bounders spoke as if the Castilians dined on human hearts.

  “Flan,” Felicity replied. She rubbed her belly again. “Lemon ices from Manhattan City, and Dutch pastries from Johannesland.”

  And blubber from the natives who lived farther north. Mina stared at her friend in astonishment. “I’m beginning to think that you aren’t with child. You’ve simply become fat after reading too many recipes.”

  “If one could become fat just from reading them, I would be.” She slanted a narrow look at Mina. “Don’t pretend they don’t tempt you.”

  Mina could pretend very well. She had plenty of practice. “At least now I know why bounders all have such horrible teeth. And why I can differentiate a foreigner from a bugger just by opening his mouth.”

  Felicity’s hand flew to her lips, and Mina was suddenly thankful that buggers didn’t suffer from pregnancy sickness. Her friend had a weak stomach even when she wasn’t with child.

  “Mina, you swore! For one night, we were to have no talk of corpses.”

  “I did not say a corpse.” Though she had meant one. But it hardly mattered; there was little difference. “The teeth are rotting out of the heads of the living, too.”

  “Shhh.” Felicity smothered her laugh and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard. “You look to find the worst in everyone, Mina.”

  “I would not be very good at my job if I didn’t.” The worst in everyone was what led them to murder.

  “You like to look for the worst in bounders. But they cannot be blamed for their ancestors abandoning us, just as we cannot be blamed for buying the Horde’s sugar and teas. It seems to me, the fault can be laid on both sides of the ocean . . . and laid to rest.”