The Duke and the Accidental Bride (Duchesses of Convenience #5)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

" A re you sure this is a good idea?” Louisa said. She had a grimace on her face, and a fearful look in her eyes.

“It is not as if I have a choice,” Isabella said.

“Of course you do!”

“No.” Isabella swung about and looked at her twin sister. “I do not. Remember, it was His Grace who brought this on, not me. Anything that happens tonight is on him.”

Louisa did not look convinced. If anything, the fear present in her eyes only grew for no doubt she recognized the determined, and almost certainly mischievous, look on Isabella’s face. A look which told her that her sister was up to no good and that nothing could be said or done to change her mind. Such was Isabella’s stubbornness.

“But... but... but it is only for one night,” Louisa begged. “And he is not asking that much. Not really.”

“It is not just what he is asking of me, Louisa.” Isabella turned back to face the mirror that she had spent the last five minutes looking into. “It was the way that he asked – you were not there. He was just so rude about it. Mean. And the implication behind what he said...” She scoffed.

“What implication?”

“That I should be so lucky! Well...” A self-satisfied smirk crossed her lips as she studied both her reflection and outfit. “He is about to learn firsthand that he cannot go about bullying people without consequences .”

“I just wish you would reconsider,” Louisa begged. “Even the dress...” She bit into her lip, eyes flicking down the length of the scandalous garment. “Perhaps something a little plainer?”

“You don’t like the dress?” Isabella’s eyes lit up. “Something tells me the Duke is going to love it.” Not that I care about such things!

At the risk of sounding pretentious, Isabella had always considered herself a beauty. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, for her blonde hair was a little too dark to be angelic, and her curvy body was perhaps not the norm for what she knew men liked. But even still, she was more than happy with what God had given her to work with. And in this dress...

The dress was scandalous to say the least. A low neckline and a tight waist. Certainly not appropriate for a dinner party with family and friends. And certainly a piece that the Duke was sure to take note of, hopefully be undone by, and be left regretting his decision to force her into this debacle in the first place.

But again, the Duke had brought this on himself.

It had been a week now since her meeting with the Duke. A week left to ponder. A week left to consider. A week left to plan! And plan, Isabella did.

She had run through that night a million times and above all else, what she was most annoyed with, was how quickly she had caved. So taken was she by the Duke’s presence, so overwhelmed by how assured and commanding he was, she had folded like a house of cards and succumbed to his every whim.

It was so unlike Isabella that it was startling – more her sister than herself, for Louisa had always been more agreeable.

But that was in the past and Louisa had to focus on the future. The dinner party was tonight, and Isabella had decided that if she was to go through with this farce of an evening, that the least she could do was make the Duke pay for it.

And pay he will...

“Just make sure that mother does not find out,” Isabella said, turning back on her sister.

“She won’t,” Louisa sighed. “As far as she is concerned, you are with a friend tonight, and I have reached out and made sure that the lie will hold. Oh, I hate having to do this!”

“I wish I could say the same...” Isabella pumped her eyebrows. “Alas, I would be made a liar if I didn’t say that I was almost looking forward to it.”

That was a lie. Isabella would rather had stayed home tonight, existing in a world where she had never heard of His Grace, Lord Duke Fangsdale. But that simply wasn’t the case. Rather, she would exist in a world where His Grace wished that he had never heard of her instead.

At least one thing will be certain. By the time tonight is through, I won’t have to worry myself with seeing His Grace ever again. Of that, I can be sure.

If it was not for the fact that Isabella knew His Grace to be a man of few words, she might have thought that he had been struck speechless. Perhaps he still was? Those few words he was going to say being knocked from him at the sight of her in that dress.

She arrived on time to his elegant manor; without a doubt one of the finest, and biggest estates that she had ever been in. A far cry from the London home she and her sister and mother were now forced to live in. She knocked on the front door, expecting a butler or servant to answer, only to find His Grace on the other side.

“Your Grace...” Her smile was over the top, as was her curtsey. “Thank you once again for this most wonderful opportunity you have given me. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

He didn’t speak. At least not straight away.

Standing in the doorway, as imposing and gigantic as she remembered him to be, he simply looked at her. His dark eyes narrowed slightly. His lips pursed together. He studied her, moving up her body, pausing on her waist and then her chest, moving to her face, and then her eyes, which he held unblinking.

The confidence that Isabella had been feeling all day and right up until now left her in an instant. Her mouth turned dry. Her body turned hot. And she began to fidget nervously.

Perhaps this dress was a bad idea?

There was something about this man that undid her. It wasn’t that she found him attractive – I d o not ! Yes, he was attractive, but she wasn’t attracted to him. It was how detached he was, how easily he took control with no more than a look. Once again, she felt her own sense of power leave her and she began to consider in very real terms if tonight’s plan was worth going through with.

Or more to the point, if she were able to, such was the way she felt in his presence.

“You are late,” he said eventually.

“I...” She blinked, not sure what to say.

“But you are here, so it is of no consequence.” He stepped back and opened the door wider, indicating for her to come inside.

“Oh!” She gave her head a shake, trying to find her confidence again, and hurried inside. The closing of the door behind her had her jumping. “Sorry, I thought I was – I did not realize I was late.”

Well done, Isabella. Really asserting yourself, aren’t you!

“It is no matter.” The Duke stepped in behind her, looked as if he was about to rest a hand on the small of her back, but then stopped. “We have only just sat down. So, if you do not mind...” He indicated for her to walk with him across the large foyer.

“If we must.” Isabella forced herself not to look at the Duke, doing her best to instill herself with some much needed confidence.

“Before we begin,” the Duke started, falling in beside her but careful not to get too close.... strangely, in fact, how he walked beside her but away at the same time. “About tonight. You are not to speak unless asked a direct question. Is that understood?”

Isabella frowned. “I... surely, you are not serious?”

“I wish for tonight to be as drama free as possible,” he continued. “You will sit where I tell you. You will speak when I ask it of you. And you will agree with whatever is said. If we are lucky, that will be enough to satisfy and no untoward or probing questions will be asked of us.”

“And if they are?”

“Then I shall answer them,” he said. Quickly then, he hurried forward and stepped in front of Isabella, cutting her off. Like a tree springing up in the middle of the path, it was all she could do not to crash headfirst into him. “I know that you are not happy with what you have been asked to do.”

“Asked?” she scoffed. “That implies I had a choice.”

The Duke glared a warning at her. “This is not a game, Miss Gouldsmith. And I am not trying to play one. Remember what I said last week about consequences for one’s own actions? If at any time you feel the need to...” His eyes flicked over her. “To say something which you are not certain of, think of that and then think very hard if the consequences will be worth the outcome.”

Still standing before her, still looking down at her, she could feel him trying to impose his will. Again, she got the sense that he was not a man who was used to not getting his way and the mere fact he was forced to beg as he was, had him reaching the end of his patience.

Isabella, having finally gotten control of herself, met the Duke’s warning glare and matched it. She looked up at him, raised her chin, and forced herself not to look away. She hated being told what to do. And she hated being treated like a child – an imposition! As if she was to blame for any of this.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a flattering smile. “I will do as asked. You need not fear.”

He narrowed his eyes, a final warning. Then, he nodded once and stepped back around her so that he was by her side. “Shall we...” He held out a hand, leading her forward.

“We shall.” She straightened and began back across the foyer, toward the dining room.

“And by the way...” Walking beside her, she saw his eyes flick over her body and a slight smile work up the side of his face. “Nice dress.”

“I actually know your mother,” His Grace’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Fangsdale, said pleasantly as she had a sip of wine. “How is she? It has been years since I last spoke with her.”

“She is...” Isabella glanced at His Grace who nodded once. “She is doing well, thank you for asking.”

“I knew your father a little also,” the Duchess continued. “Such a shame what happened. Even after all of this time, I am sure that you miss him dearly.”

“I do,” Isabella said. She would have liked to have a sip of wine herself, but the Duke had not allowed her to have any. “My mother also, of course. She might pretend that she has moved on, it has been ten years now. But I know that she misses him.”

“They were happy then?” the Duchess asked curiously.

“I believe they were.”

She nodded her understanding, sighing as if saddened by it. “It is so rare nowadays to find love in marriage. And for it to be cut short like that, why, I cannot think of anything worse.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“I understand too that you have two sisters? An older sister who... now, who did she marry again?” The Duchess bit her lip. “Remind me, won’t you?”

“Mother...” His Grace looked at his mother. “Will you please stop with all the questions. Miss Gouldsmith has answered quite enough of them.”

“Oh, well excuse me for wishing to better know the woman who has stolen my son’s heart.” She scoffed and had another sip of wine. “What on earth was I thinking.”

“I had hoped that tonight might be spent speaking about other things,” His Grace said evenly. “And Miss Gouldsmith has been more than patient with you.”

“Patient!” the Duchess cried and looked at Isabella. “He acts as if I have been hounding you! I do hope you speak with your own mother in far softer tones than my son does with me? Not that it would be very hard to do so.”

“Mother...”

The dinner was an awkward affair to say the least.

When His Grace had spoken of it earlier, he had made it seem as if there would be a whole host of guests in attendance, enough that Isabella would be able to shrink back and disappear if she at any point felt overwhelmed or her tongue began to run away with her.

As it turned out, His Grace had grossly oversold the evening.

There were four people seated in the dining room. At the head of the table was His Grace, as was expected. Isabella sat to his right. To his left was his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Fangsdale, and to her immediate left was her own mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Martell. And that was it!

The Dowager Duchess of Fangsdale was somewhere in her sixties, elegant and regal in the way that she held herself and how she dressed, but also stern and commanding and a little harsh... much like her son.

The Dowager Marchioness of Martell was the complete opposite. At least eighty, she was tiny, withered, and adorable to say the least. A kindly old lady who sat there quietly, listening but saying little, her eyes shining with pride whenever she looked upon her grandson.

“It makes me think of the two of you,” the Duchess, His Grace’s mother, continued, ignoring the way her son glared at her. “Do we have here a love match? I would have to think that my son would not settle for anything less than perfection.”

“Mother, that is quite enough.”

“What did I say? Is it so wrong for a mother to wish the best for her son.” She turned her attention to Isabella. “You are a beauty, my dear, nobody is denying that...” Her eyes flicked over Isabella’s dress, and Isabella felt herself flushing pink with embarrassment.

What was I thinking with this dress!

“But beauty is not enough,” she continued. “My son, as I am sure you know, is smarter than he lets on. If he is to settle down, he requires an equal. Not a plaything who is good for little more than looking nice on his arm. Would you not agree?”

Isabella had to work overtime to stop her mouth from dropping. She had thought His Grace to be rude and to the point. But his mother was something else entirely!

Her leg began to shake under the table. That desire to say something – to defend herself. It was bubbling up inside of her, building, threatening to burst...

“I can assure you, Mother, that Miss Gouldsmith is more than my equal. And she is more than just a plaything . I did not court her by accident.”

“Oh, I know that,” she chuckled, again looking at Isabella’s dress. “I think we can all see exactly why you chose to court her.”

“Mother, that is enough.”

“What did I say! More than Miss Gouldsmith has tonight, that is for sure. Just do me a favor will you, Duncan? Although I am pleased that you are finally beginning to take your future seriously, make sure that the next one is a little more interesting. I know you, is why, and you’re likely to grow bored if you can’t find a lady who will challenge you.” She smirked across the table at Isabella. “No offence, dear.”

Isabella wanted to say nothing.

Oh, how she did.

She shut her mouth tight. She took a deep breath. She tried her best to keep the words contained but... but... but she had her limits, and they had well since been reached.

Smiling as if something funny was said, she looked at His Grace as if to apologize in advance. His eyes widened in warning but she shrugged and then turned back to the Duchess.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I have not meant to be so silent this evening but when one loves their own voice as much as you so clearly do, I find it best to let them speak. Lest the hot air inside them builds up such that they end up exploding.”

The Duchess’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Shockingly, His Grace chuckled. But he flashed his eyes in warning at her. “She is only making fun, Mother. Surely, you can appreciate --”

“And I can assure you that I am more than your son’s equal,” Isabella continued, feeling a surge of adrenaline pulse through her that she knew to be bad because when she felt that it tended to have her doing and saying things that she should not.”

“Is that right?” the Duchess said coldly.

“Would you expect anything less from your son?” Isabella laughed as if it was all in good fun. “Oh, I know he is a man of few words, but they are always the correct ones.” Feeling an impulse, she reached over and rested a hand on top of the Duke’s. He went stiff but did not remove it. “It was one of the many reasons that I fell in love with him.”

“In love?” the Duchess cocked an eyebrow.

Isabella suppressed the urge to gasp, not having meant to say that. “Of course,” she said. Dammit, why am I so stubborn! “I get the sense that I am the first woman your son has brought to meet you, perhaps ever. Why would he do such a thing if not for love?”

“I think that is enough for one evening.” His Grace pulled his hand free and pushed his chair back. “Miss Gouldsmith, if you and I might --”

“I think you speak too quickly, dear,” the Duchess said. She looked right at Isabella as if to provoke her... or dare her into continuing. “To speak of love as you are. You may think that you are special, but if my son thought as much of you as you claim, then he would have told me long ago. I am sorry to say.”

“He was just being careful,” Isabella shot back, matching her stare.

“I am sure that you hope he is.”

“I know him well enough to know otherwise.”

“Clearly that is not the case. Although...” She shrugged. “I must say, there is more fire in you than I suspected. A shame that my son does not see it.”

Isabella’s leg was still shaking. Her blood was still pumping. Her anger was still mounting. And so, as was predictable, she opened her mouth and found herself once again speaking before she could stop to think.

“Well then, you might be shocked to find out that...” She glanced at the Duke who was glaring a warning at her that earlier would have had Isabella shaking but now she hardly even took notice of. “That earlier, your son asked me if I would marry him.” She heard the Duke groan. “And I said yes!”

One could hear a pin fall, such was the silence that followed.

The Duke looked as if he could not believe his ears. Caught between anger and shock as he tried to work through his emotions.

The Duchess almost looked proud, as if she had seen this coming or, most likely, had baited Isabella into saying it.

Isabella, the adrenaline leaving her, blood filling her ears, suddenly realized what she had said, only to know it was too late to take it back, looked everywhere but at the Duke.

And then...

“He did? Oh, that is wonderful!” Lady Martell was on her feet, clapping her hands together, tears streaming down her face. “Duncan! Is it true! I knew you would one day! I just knew it!” She hurried around the table with far more agility than one her age should have possessed and wrapped her arms around her gaping grandson. “I am so happy! And your grandfather, if he was alive... oh! I am so happy!”

“Duncan, what is the meaning of this?” the Duke’s mother, the Duchess, asked as his grandmother hugged him incessantly. “How have you kept this from me? Well!”

Lady Martell’s cries of joy drowned her out, such was her happiness. She hugged her grandson, who hugged her back and smiled apologetically at his mother, because what other choice did he have?

Then he turned his sights on Isabella, and fixed Isabella her in a glare so cold that she felt it in her bones. Again, that sense of fear that he so often instilled in her rose through her body, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t done so sooner. Then, at least, she might not have acted so brashly and foolishly.

“Yes, it is true,” Duncan said with much control as he pried himself from his grandmother. The side of his mouth twitched but he tamed it. “And Mother, I am sorry for all the subterfuge.”

“Subterfuge, he says!” the Duke’s mother cried out. “That is not the word I would have used!”

“Be that as it may…” Duncan was back to staring at Isabella and the look in his eyes made her stomach drop. “Before we continue this evening, I would like a word alone with my betrothed. If she does not mind?”

Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat as she wondered if now might be a good time to turn and flee, and then perhaps to make her way to London where she could join a shipping crew of some kind and sail as far away from here as possible. Anything to escape the wrath of the Duke… her fiancé.

“Ye – yes, that is fine,” she stammered. “Whatever about?”

“Just be quick,” his mother said. “We need to celebrate!”

“Oh, do not worry mother…” He did not look at her, his cold gaze still fixed squarely on Isabella. “This will not take long.”