Chapter Thirteen
D uncan did not sleep very well that night.
He tossed and he turned as his thoughts drifted to and stayed on his wife, Isabella. They’d been alone in the washroom. A tension had built between them. And Duncan had very nearly broken and taken his wife then and there.
Lying in bed, unable to sleep, even hours later he still could not decide if he had done the right thing or not.
What was more, it had seemed like, for a moment there, that Isabella had wanted him to take her. As if she had known what she was doing and what the result would be if she didn’t stop him.
He had hoped earlier today that she might have been eager for what he wanted to do to her. Now, he was veering toward certain. The idea of that frightened him almost as much.
But she had told him that she did not want him. She had been emphatic about it. For the best, Duncan decided. And to better ensure that this demand was kept, he would do everything he could to avoid upsetting his wife.
It was late into the night when Duncan finally began to drift off to sleep. Needless to say, he got few hours in, made to be even less when he was awoken early the following morning by the sounds of women screaming.
“Wh --” Duncan sat up with a start. He looked about the room in confusion, taking a moment to understand what was going on.
It was the screaming. Women, of course. Coming from outside somewhere. Duncan was still half-asleep as he tried to listen, unable to detect if the screams were brought from pain or joy.
“What in the world...” he mumbled as he stumbled from bed and then the room.
Through the house he went, waking himself up as he went, listening as the screams quietened considerably. They were replaced instead by laughter and cackles, loud conversation, the sense that there were dozens of people suddenly congregating outside of his home.
There were not dozens of people gathered outside his manor. Only three. Although the noise that they made might have challenged that fact.
“I still cannot believe you are here!” Isabella cried merrily, embracing her sisters in a two-arm hug.
“You told us to come!” Louisa said.
“Yes, yes, but I did not think you would.”
“I hate to interrupt but is there a washroom I might use,” Isabella’s older sister, Duchess Northwick asked as she cradled her swollen belly.
“When I told you to visit, I meant in due time. Not the next day!” Isabella continued, ignoring her pregnant sister.
“Oh, well, we can leave if you like.”
“No, no.”
“Please, a washroom...” the Duchess begged and grabbed a hold of Isabella's arm.
“Besides, you are so close!” Isabella’s twin decreed happily. “It really was no bother.”
“Oh, I am just so glad you came!”
“Less than a day and she is already bored!”
“I did not say that.”
“Unhappy.”
“I did not say that either.”
“Miserable beyond anything that you --”
“Washroom! Now!”
There were just the three of them. Standing down the driveway by the carriage, Isabella embracing her sisters lovingly as she began to lead them back toward the manor. Certainly not a calamitous gathering of what had sounded like dozens of people to Duncan’s still-tired ears. Even still...
The hysteria. The noise. The impending sense of doom that built inside of Duncan as he watched the three women march toward him, wrapped in one another’s arms, speaking faster than racehorses in full gallop; words tripping, voices rising, laughter crying out.
Duncan felt himself getting annoyed. What were they doing here? And why had he not been told! To be woken up like this, it was beyond infuriating.
As the women came toward him, Duncan watched them, no sense of joy about him, as cold as a winter’s morning.
“Your Grace!” Louisa cried when she spotted Duncan standing in the front door watching them. She hesitated at the sight of him, but then hurried forward and up the stairs and offered a curtsey. “It is a pleasure to see you again. And thank you in advance for your generous hospitality.”
He did not respond.
“Your Grace.” Lady Northwick did the same, albeit with more difficulty as she was forced to hold her belly. “A pleasure and thank you for allowing us in your home today. Might I enquire on where the wash --”
“I do hope it is agreeable that my sisters have come to visit,” Isabella explained as she began up the stairs and after her two sisters. “I extended them an invitation yesterday and they took hold of it with both their hands.”
“You told us to come and visit you as soon as we liked,” Louisa pointed out.
“I did not think it would be the next day.”
“And as I said, we can leave.”
“Oh, now you are just being silly.”
“Coming from you! Ha!”
Isabella shook her head at her Louisa as she stepped in front of her to greet Duncan. There was no kiss on the cheek to greet him. And she stayed back slightly, careful not to get too close, fidgeting nervously with her hands as she looked him over quickly, and then away as if embarrassed.
Duncan eyed her a moment, taking just a little pleasure at seeing the flush in her cheeks as she purposefully refused to meet his eyes It had her looking away, exposing the side of her neck...
Which, of course, had Duncan’s mind racing to the previous night. His urge to bite into that neck and lick up her skin was infuriatingly tempting.
And with how she is behaving this morning, she would deserve everything that I gave her.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Isabelle began with a hint of nervousness. “How did you sleep?”
“I was sleeping very well,” Duncan said, giving his head a shake and snapping himself into the moment. “That was before I was woken up by what I thought was a battle happening just outside my doorsteps. And invasion, it sounded like.”
If it had been anyone else, an apology would have been offered. If not for the noise made, then for the invitation extended without first asking Duncan for permission. That was expected and proper and certainly not too much to ask!
Isabella was not anyone else.
“You were still asleep?” she frowned. “At this hour?”
“I had trouble falling asleep last night and was hoping for an extra hour in the morning to catch up. The fool I am, think I might be afforded such a thing in my own home.”
“Well, that explains the morning wear...” She flicked her eyes over him and grinned to herself. “Although I do ask that the next time my sisters visit, if you might dress more appropriately.”
Duncan hadn’t even considered what he was wearing. Dressed in an old pair of thin cotton breeches and a nightshirt, the outfit was highly inappropriate. And that wasn’t to mention the smell his body surely permitted and how messy his hair was. He must have looked a fright.
His eyes went wide, and he half stepped back as if he meant to flee. One hand shooting down to cover himself. “And I would ask that I am told in advance the next time you plan on having company.”
“In my own home?” she responded coolly. “I had no idea I needed to make such a request. Would the same be said of everything else I do? My sister needs to use the washroom, is that agreeable with you?”
“May I?” the Duchess stepped in. “I really need to --”
“A warning is all that I require,” Duncan cut her off, feeling himself growing irate – again, it was as if she wanted him to! “It is common curtsey. I am sure that even you can respect that.”
“And as my sister has explained, I was as caught by surprise by their visit as you. Perhaps if you did not sleep in so late, this might not have been a problem.”
“My sleeping patterns are not your concern.” A knowing smile came to his lips, which he made sure that she saw. “You made that clear last night, after all.”
Her cheeks flushed further, and she looked away. “A decision that I can see now is the right one.”
It was becoming tense again.
He and Isabella bickering. The two sisters standing there awkwardly, looks on their faces like they wanted to be anywhere else. And Duncan’s express desire to save face by doubling down and reminding Isabella of her place.
Why does this always happen? Can the two of us not speak without fighting!
The danger inherent in the situation was clear and were it just himself and Isabella, this time Duncan might have very well given in. He was certain now that she was doing it on purpose. That was the only explanation that made sense.
At least it was the only one that he wanted to listen to.
But Isabella’s sisters were standing right there. They were watching, eyes wide, likely shocked by this already hostile interaction. They have no idea...
Duncan had gone through with this marriage for the simple reason of saving his reputation. But if word was to get out about how he spoke with his wife, it would completely undercut the entire point. And that simply would not do.
He needed to diffuse.
He needed to soften the hostility.
He needed... he needed... he needed to heed the advice that his good friend, Richard, had given him yesterday. What to do if he found himself on the backfoot. And how to turn a fight into an apology.
A deep breath and Duncan forced a smile. “Might I also add, you are looking rather splendid this morning, Isabella. That dress...” He swept his hand over her dress; it was simple daywear, nothing too extravagant but nothing too scandalous either. “Stunning.”
Isabella blinked. “Oh.” She blinked again. “That is... thank you?”
“Of course.” Duncan noticed the immediate change in her; the hostility in her eyes fading, that coy smile receding. Sensing the moment, he decided to push a little bit further. “It has occurred to me, in fact, that I didn’t tell you yesterday how wonderful you looked. That is an error of the highest order on my part – no wife should have to wonder if their husband finds them beautiful. From this day on I will do better.”
“That is...” She could not have looked more confused. And from the way that she struggled to keep her smile at bay, just a little bit smitten. “That is very kind.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“And...” She licked her lips and focused on him again and Duncan was certain she was going to go back to their fight. But he saw a shadow pass behind her eyes, a sense that she didn’t quite have it in her anymore. “And me too.”
“You too?” Duncan frowned.
She gave her head a little shake, as if in surprise. “I apologize for my sisters, I should have... I should have told you that they were coming.”
“Think nothing of it,” Duncan assured her.
Well, that was interesting...
“Isabella! I do hate to interrupt, but may I please use the washroom!” Duchess Northwick cried. “Please!”
“What -- oh! Yes!” Isabella spun about awkwardly, her mind clearly anywhere but on her sister’s impending burst bladder. “Ah... Your Grace --”
“Duncan, Isabella,” he chuckled, offering her a friendly smile. “I think we can dispense with the titles, don’t you?”
She blushed. “Duncan... might it be alright if my sister...”
“You do not have to ask. But I appreciate that you did.” He stepped aside and waved Isabella and her two sisters inside. And as she passed, because Duncan could not help himself, he whispered in her ear “Very well behaved. ”
He saw her shiver at the comment, cheeks flushing even more red. Smiling to himself, he watched as they hurried through the manor in search of a washroom, feeling a tinge of pride because he was rather pleased with what had just occurred, and what it might mean for the future.
That was the key. He needed a way to keep Isabella and himself from fighting. He needed a means by which to control himself so that he wouldn’t do something that he might regret. And it seemed now that he had found one.
Compliments and false niceties. Perhaps even a gift, if he thought it might help. Anything that would diffuse Isabella’s hostility such that she wouldn’t risk accidentally igniting his more amorous desires. Well... at least not until she asked him to.