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

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

I sabella did not sleep well that night, although that should not have come as a surprise. Hours removed from her encounter with the Duke in the back of his carriage and still her mind was as transfixed on that interaction as if it had only just occurred. And if not her mind, then her body was certainly still there.

She tried not to think about how she had felt in those moments when he had been on her. Easy to dismiss it as fear, but there was a part of Isabella which wasn’t so certain that fear quite summed up the deluge of feelings that were swirling about her even now as she lay in bed.

Her body ran hot while somehow shaking as if cold. Her skin tingled, a light pulse which trickled up her thighs and made her shift and squirm. And a deep desire to be put in the exact same situation again, to experience what it was that the Duke was suggesting he would do to her.

What is happening to me?

It was a mystery to Isabella, and one that she wasn’t so sure she wanted an answer to. As such, she forced herself to focus on what she did understand, and what she believed that she had some semblance of control over.

She had upset the Duke. She had pushed him. She had brought him close to breaking. He was being stubborn, a trait that she recognized well, but he could not hold out forever, and she was certain that if she was to keep at him in the same fashion then before this wedding happened, he would understand that he had no choice but to call on it to end. He had to!

So, that was what she decided. Isabella put aside the physical peculiarities which she did not fully understand and concentrated on the practical; what she was going to do to finally force the Duke’s hand.

It would not be pleasant. It would likely upset him further and cause him to more anger. But that was a risk she was going to have to take... a risk that she could not help but imagine the consequences of as a smile worked its way up her lips when she finally drifted off to sleep.

“... I do understand the reasoning, Your Grace, but perhaps you might consider a bigger ceremony? I had it in my mind that this would be akin to the event of the Season.” Isabella fluttered her eyebrows at the Duke.

The Duke remained stoic. “And as I have just explained, a smaller affair will serve our purpose perfectly well. I do not see much point in flaunting --”

“Flaunting?” she cut him off purposefully. “I do not know if that is the word I would use. It is more a case of demonstrating to the ton how important this engagement is to the two of us. That this isn’t some...” She looked pointedly at him. “Marriage of convenience, but a love match. Surely, that is to be considered of import?”

“It is...” The Duke spoke slowly and carefully, meeting her pointed stare with his own “On that same note, what does it matter what people think or say? We know what this marriage is --” He raised an eyebrow at her. “-- and that should be enough to suffice. If we try too hard it might have people questioning why. So, a smaller ceremony makes more sense.”

“Oh, I just have so many people whom I wish to see attend,” she pouted and pretended to look upset. As she did, she pushed her arms under her chest; another low-cut dress, showing off plenty of skin. “Who I would love to see me at my very best. And to see you too, of course, and to know how truly taken you are with me.”

“I am marrying you, am I not? I would think that should be indication enough of my feelings.”

“But why be subtle?” she shot back. “Again, a bigger ceremony is --”

“Isabella!” her mother snapped. “His Grace said no! Honestly girl, what has gotten in to you!” She widened her eyes in warning at Isabella before softening her features and turning to the Duke. “I am so sorry, Your Grace. Sometimes, she does not know when to keep her opinions to herself.”

“It is quite fine, my lady,” the Duke assured her mother with a stiff smile. “She is simply excited. And I cannot blame her for it. In fact...” He looked right at Isabella. “I encourage it. It is, if nothing else, further proof of how much our pairing means to her. As it does to me.” He held his stare on Isabella, a cold a glaring one, daring her to say something.

Isabella fixed him with her own, one that spoke to her frustration, for this was not going at all how she had planned. Not even close!

It had been a full week since she had last heard from the Duke. Long enough that a small part of her had wondered if maybe, just maybe, his mind had been changed and he had since cancelled their wedding...

A girl can dream but at one point she must wake up.

He had been busy organizing the banns and applying for their right to wed. With that now settled, he promptly returned to Isabella’s home and announced that the date had been set for two weeks hence. It was happening and as he was certain to make sure she understood that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Not that this dissuaded Isabella. Not one little bit.

The Duke stayed for the afternoon as he and her mother began to discuss the coming ceremony and what was to be expected from it. This, Isabella decided, was the perfect time to continue what she had started doing last week. That being, proving to the Duke that he would be better off dealing with the fallout of a cancelled engagement than the perils of what were to come if they went through with it.

Or rather, that had been the plan.

“We shall have the after-ceremony breakfast at my estate.” The Duke had seated himself beside Isabella’s mother, not beside Isabella, and he focused on her as he spoke. “It is near my parish, so it will make for an easy journey back for those who shall be returning.”

“At your parish?” Isabella was sure to whine. “I was hoping it would be at my own? Mother...” She pouted and set her chin to wobbling. “Do you not think it would be nicer for us if it was there? More familiar, is my meaning.”

“Not at all.” Another warning glare from her mother. “And His Grace speaks sense.”

“Oh...” She scrunched her face up. “But I have always imagined that when I wed, that would be where the ceremony was held. Picturing it in my mind, as one does, I have dreamt of this day since I was a little girl. Your Grace...” She turned the pout onto the Duke. “Please, do not deny me this.”

She heard him suppress a groan as he turned to look at her. And despite her forlorn heavy pout, his stare was like ice. “Is it really that important to you?”

“It is,” she said, pushing her lips even closer together. “So important that I might cry, if I am not to get my way.”

The side of his mouth twitched, and she saw his leg begin to shake. But a deep breath and he forced the faintest hint of a smile. “So be it. Although it might make for a slightly more awkward post-ceremony journey back to my estate, if that is what my bride wants...” His smile dropped. “Then that is what she will get.”

The Duke was having a hard time controlling his temper, but he was managing well enough. Purposefully, it seemed to Isabella.

He must have suspected what she might try and do -- not a surprise, as he had called her out on such acts the previous week. And although his warning to her still sat firmly in Isabella’s mind, she had since convinced herself that the warnings couldn’t have been real. After all, what could the Duke really do...?

Her body shuddered when she considered such things, as if a cold had swept through the drawing room.

She glared at the Duke instead, determined not to be intimidated by him. Certainly not to do as he commanded her! There must be something I can say that will upend him! A chink in his armor I have yet to attack.

“You are being too kind,” she purred.

“Anything for you, my dear,” he responded coolly.

“Anything...” An idea suddenly struck her. “Now that I think on it, shall we discuss what I shall wear?”

“Oh...” For the first time, the Duke look flustered. His eyes dropped to her chest... paused for just a little too long, and she was certain that he licked his lips as they did... and then he looked away. “That is not up to me to discuss. I am certain that whatever you decide with your mother will be --”

“Because I know that His Grace likes me in tightly fitted dresses...” She flashed her eyes at the Duke, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Not to mention ones that are a little lower-cut. Similar to this --”

“Isabella!” her mother cut her off. “Now is not the time to speak of --”

“I am simply bringing up what it is that I have noticed,” she cried innocently. “Whenever I dress in such a way, the Duke’s eyes wander – yes, like that,” she said when she caught him glancing again. “I simply thought it might be best to ask if he would like me to dress in such a way again?”

“Isabella...” Her mother warned her; a tone that Isabella recognized as she brought it out in her mother often. “This is – I have never been so mortified by --”

“It is quite alright.” The Duke firmed himself as he sat up and fixed Isabella with a steady gaze. “To answer your question, I am certain that whatever decision that you make will be the correct one. I would prefer something a little more traditional, as is expected, but if you wish to embarrass yourself by wearing half a garment, I will not stop you.”

She flushed with embarrassment. “I am not -- will not be embarrassed. I just pray that you will not be.”

“It will take a lot more than that to embarrass me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” she said.

“An observation.”

“It is lucky then that we have the rest of our lives to find out its truth.”

“A lifetime that I am looking forward to.”

“As am I,” she shot back.

The Duke made sure he was looking at her. A pregnant pause as a cocky smirk rose up the side of his face. His eyes then flashed knowingly as he whispered so softly that Isabella was quite sure that only she could hear it. “More than enough time to teach you how to behave.”

That word... it sent a shiver up her spine that left her body tingling. She felt the inside of her thighs grow warm as her breath caught in her throat and she very nearly choked.

That warning again... another shudder.

He was just trying to scare her. That was all it was. It had to be. He knew what she was doing and he was trying to make her stop. Most likely, she forced herself to believe, because it was working. She just had to try harder.

It was two days later when the Duke stopped once more. This time to check on how preparations were coming along, and to confirm guests and other minor details.

“Surely, you have sent word to the King?” Isabella asked, more demanded to know. “As a Duke of England, I am certain he would love to attend.”

“And I can assure you, he would not.”

“Will you write to him anyway? For me?” she pouted and battered her eyelashes.

Again, the Duke rose above it. This time he was stoic to a fault, not once rising to the many pieces of bait that she lay out for him.

Three days after that, the Duke invited Isabella and her mother to his estate for tea – a better chance to get to know the family. Isabella insisted on bringing Louisa who she then started a fight with for no other reason than to antagonize the Duke.

And Louisa, being the good sister that she was, went along with it… even if convincing her to do so had been a task unto itself.

“You have always been jealous of me!” she had found herself accusing Louisa. “Admit it!”

The Duke was far too controlled. Calm. Rational. Purposefully aloof and dispassionate, as if he was watching mice squabble over a piece of cheese, something so insignificant that there was no need to rise to the bait and lose control of his temper.

For Isabella, this pushed her beyond the realms of simply not wanting to marry the man because she did not wish to marry. She was beginning to dislike him. To hate him. Better the man who accosted her in the carriage than one who barely even looked at her because he thought so little of who she was.

Her plan wasn’t working.

The date of the wedding was drawing closer and closer.

She was forced to finally admit that there would be no tricking the Duke into backing out of the engagement. If Isabella wanted out of this marriage, there was but one thing left for her to do.

She was going to beg.

It would not be her finest hour, but desperate times called for desperate measure and with the wedding only a few days away, Isabella had become very desperate indeed.