Duke Bookstore Apparel Novels & Stories

“Someone will come to your apartment every two weeks to swap your wardrobe. We don’t wear the same outfit more than once. Do well to remember that.” Just when Kate’s lips parted to tell her without mincing her words that she did not want a stylist, or have to think before choosing clothes to wear, she heard William’s voice saying coldly, “I got your drink, Darling. A single malt scotch.” He handed her the drink as he added softly, “Your favorite.”

After all, she could remember the rudiments of riding. Turning slowly, she wasn’t prepared for the full impact of the Duke in casual clothes. Wearing smug breaches, tucked into the top of his high riding boots, a white shirt, navy waistcoat, long tailed riding jacket and a carelessly tied cravat, Eastland looked the epitome of a rugged gentleman.

"I am the Duke." "You?" For one long moment, utter bewilderment was writ large across her delightful countenance. For the life of her, Margaret could not use her surprise. How could this man, of all men, be the Duke? Aside from he fact he was far too young to have been a crony if her father's, the gentleman before her was unquestionably a rake. And a rake of the first order, to boot. Whether the dark-browned, harsh-featured face wig its aquiline nose and firm mouth and chin or the lazy assurance with which he had entered the room had contributed to her reading of his character, she could not have said. But the calmly arrogant way his intensely blue eyes had roved from the top of her curls al

The next stop was the shopping mall. I stood quietly as Duke picked out dresses and shoes, moving from one rack to another. He seems to know what he was doing. “You’re not picking anything, Ann,” he said after a while. “You don’t like the dresses?” “Huh?” I blinked. “Was I supposed to pick something?” He frowned slightly. “Yes. Pick anything you like. As many as you want. We’ll be going out more often for work.” Anything I like. The words echoed in my head. For a second, I just stood there.

I found out after reading the documents I received from Lis, Professor Xander, and Butler Gervis that currently my family is supporting the crown prince so as of the moment there's two ducal families that support Prince Stefan. There are three ducal families in the Kingdom of Allenscheid; Garrick, Hugin, and Bartlett. Currently both Garrick and Bartlett show support to Prince Stefan while Hugin has a neutral stance. If I ever try to shake my father's position as the duke now, I'm sure the queen won't quietly take it so I need to be very careful on my plans. The queen already knows that I'm good friends with Prince Xavier so if I acted suspicious in any way, I might get killed and I could dra

It was the Christ the King celebration, and he was to chair the fair trade and the commissioning of the grotto that followed the procession, until Fabian appeared with news he had assumed he had dealt with temporarily. “What still holds her death? Why does she still roam the manor?” He stopped in front of Fabian to ask, even when he had been told the reason a thousand times. Fabian just stood in the darkness of the room, staring back at Edric and wishing he could control himself. “I am so close to being the next duke, so close to sitting on that seat of power and dining with the king,” he said aloud as he resumed pacing the room again, not caring if anyone overheard him.

“Our finest room. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He backed out quickly, looking relieved to be anywhere else. I took a breath and stepped inside. Duke was already there. He stood up as we entered, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, his blonde hair a chaotic mess and his gray shirt sporting deep, stubborn wrinkles. He looked nothing like Jeremiah, who stood next to me in a crisp, black suit that looked like it had been pressed by a machine. Jeremiah stopped dead. He stared at the glowing cherry of the cigarette between Duke’s fingers and the thin gray haze of smoke hanging in the stagnant air.

"I really can't go anywhere without an audience, can I?" "I'm afraid not, Mrs. De Luca" "I was hoping you'd say yes." "So was I." That earned the smallest laugh from me. The boutique hadn't changed much, and soft music drifted through the air. Shelves displayed handbags, scarves, and elegant dresses. The sales assistants looked up as I entered, and one of them smiled politely. Then her expression changed, like she finally recognized me. "Mrs. De Luca." I froze. She hadn't asked my name, but she already knew who I was, how could she not with my face plastered on every newspaper, magazines and broadcast station.

As she made her way to the living room, she called back, “Let’s get to work” Tara followed obediently. She hadn’t noticed the large cloth sack Maggie carried until the old woman reached inside and pulled out a thick, leather bound book. Tara stretched forward to take a closer look. The book showed years of wear. The binding was worn thin and the pages were yellowed. At the end of a long black ribbon that was glued within the binding of the book was an octagon shaped crystal that measured one and one-half inches in length and one inch in diameter.

as a guide for my actions. I open my eyes wide to contemplate the grand palace I never imagined, but my lips remain firm. This place always impresses, but I prefer to keep my emotions to myself. I must be cold and unfeeling. The doors at the end of the hall open to reveal the biggest hall I've ever seen, bigger even than the throne room. I don't think I'll ever get used to the brutal size of this place. I go through the door and come across a staircase. The steps lead to a wide space where all the nobles of the five sectors await impassively for my arrival. They are grouped by name and number. Some are whispering among themselves, probably about me and running away with the Crown Prince. On