Early evening of the day following the wedding of James Ryburn, Earl of Islay, and heir to the Duchy of Ashbrook, to Theodora Saxby, known to her new husband as Daisy.

A flare of anger ignited by fear swept over James. "What in the bloody hell are you getting at, Bairley?" he said sharply.

"The papers are all calling her the ‘Ugly Duchess,'" his valet replied miserably.

"What?"

"The ugly duchess, a play on that fairy tale, The Ugly Duckling. My lord, please keep your voice down. Her ladyship is next door. She retired to her room directly after returning from the modiste."

"When you say the ‘papers,' which ones do you mean, precisely?" James pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the bed. Daisy must be devastated. They were all blasted liars. He'd kill the reporters himself. He'd have the presses shut down by the next morrow. He discovered his fingers were shaking slightly with rage.

"All of the dailies," Bairley replied. "All except the Morning Chronicle, which said that she had the profile of a king."

"That's all right," James said, deciding to spare the Morning Chronicle. He tore open his breeches and a button skipped across the floor.

Bairley scurried after it.

"I'll have a retraction and apology from every one of them tomorrow morning," James said through clenched teeth, "or by God I'll torch their buildings myself. There's some power in a dukedom yet, and I'll use every iota of it to destroy them."

"Yes, your lordship," his valet said, having found the button. He turned to pull evening clothing from the wardrobe and lay it carefully on the bed. "Unfortunately, her maid reports that her ladyship saw the papers when she visited the modiste today. It's not only the papers—there are prints in the stationers' windows already. They did them overnight because of all the excitement about the wedding."

"Oh, for—" James broke off. "Lady Islay went out and saw all that, and now she's ... where?"

"Next door," Bairley said. "She went straight to her chamber, her face white as a winding sheet, that's what Mr. Cramble said."

James threw his breeches and smalls on the bed. "I'll have a quick bath and then pay a visit to my wife. Tell Cramble that I want no one interrupting us until I ring. Not even her maid," he said to Bairley, over his shoulder.

Five minutes later he pulled on a dressing gown, and headed for the door to Daisy's room.