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

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

T he idea came to Duncan as he and Isabella rode home from having lunch with his grandmother. He couldn’t say why the idea had suddenly come to mind, or why the thought excited him as much as it did. What he should have been thinking about instead were the carnal pleasures that he and Isabella were sure to engage in once they returned. But those imaginings failed to take hold as his mind continually drifted back to his original idea.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Duncan explained as he led Isabella through the foyer and toward the back of the manor.

“What is it?” He could hear the nervousness in her voice.

“It’s a surprise,” Duncan said, his grin spreading as he continued to lead her. He made sure to walk behind, one hand placed on the small of her back as they walked through the halls.

“A surprise I will like?”

He chuckled. “Make sure you let me know, won’t you?”

Dinner with his grandmother had gone rather well. It was, Duncan had realized, one of the first times that he and Isabella had engaged in a real conversation and that he had learned something personal about her which he sensed that she had felt nervous to reveal.

She shouldn’t have. The fact that she enjoyed studying and learning wasn’t at all the scandal that she seemed to think it might be. If anything, it had impressed Duncan, as it was so unlike most of the ladies whom he had met throughout his life. Much like their sex life and her equally as perverse kinks, it was yet another side to Isabella that made her uniquely different.

It was this reveal that had Duncan thinking.

These past two weeks had been darn near perfect and if he was to do it all again there was nothing he would change. But it could not last.So far, they had done well to ignore everything outside of their sexual desires, leaving huge gaps in their understanding of one another that would very likely lead to trouble.

My grandmother accidentally revealing my past to Isabella is a perfect example of that. A story that I would have preferred to have told Isabella in my own time. If at all.

As the days went by and as he and Isabella spent more time together, the disparity that existed between them became more noticeable.

This sudden idea of his was another small step taken, albeit in the right direction this time. An idea had which Duncan felt rather proud of himself for thinking of in the first place. It was very unlike him, but that just spoke to his eagerness.

“Where are you taking me?” Isabella asked as they approached a closed set of double doors, hidden away toward the back of the manor.

Duncan hurried forward, reaching the doors before Isabella. There, he popped them open and then turned back, taking a little too much pleasure in her confusion. “It was something that you said tonight that had me thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she joked.

“You are the learned one between the two of us, it seems,” he chuckled. “Which is why I think you might appreciate this. Certainly more than I have.”

Her brow creased as she eyed the doors. “What is...?”

“Here.” Duncan opened the doors and waved her inside.

The room was pitched in total darkness, so Duncan hurried for a lamp which he set alight. It was a dull flame, barely large enough to spread beyond a few feet; the room itself was not much larger than foyer, the walls still impossible to make out with such a small source of light.

Duncan picked up the lamp but stood back as he watched Isabella slowly edge deeper into the room. He licked his lips with anticipation. His excitement started to grow. Again, the idea that something as simple as this should excite him at all was new to Duncan, but he did not question it. Rather, he chose to enjoy it.

“Is this...” Isabella gasped as she reached the furthest wall. Duncan came in behind her, allowing the light to fall on the wall. “Is this a library?”

“Right in one,” he said. “Although library might be a generous term. I confess, it is a pittance compared to some that you may have seen. But I have a feeling that there will be more than enough here to help hold your interest.”

Indeed, the room that Duncan had brought her to was his own personal library. Not that Duncan had stepped inside the room for years, as he had never been much of a reader. If he had been, he might have added to it and perhaps moved it to a larger space so that there was room for it to grow. But all things considered, he thought it would serve his purpose well.

“See here.” He hurried to the side wall where there had to be at least two hundred dusty books stacked. “I know it is not much, but if memory serves, this section here is dedicated almost entirely to the sciences. Such as....” He leaned in with the lamp, caught sight of a thick binder, and pulled it out. “Ah, yes...” He studied the cover. “A pictured history of fauna native to northern England. A rather dry read by my mind, but I think I know someone who might say otherwise.” He put the book down and then selected another. “And this one... an A-Z listing of butterflies and their subspecies. Again, nothing something I would – what? What is it?”

Isabella was standing back, watching him with a look on her face that he could not make out properly in the darkness.

She looked confused. Wary. As if she was not certain what was going on, or who this man was whom had taken the place of her husband. Head tilted. Brow furrowed. A fraction of a smile crossing the right-side of her lips.

“You... I do not know what to say,” she said eventually.

“Do you like it?” Duncan asked.

“I do. I just...” She shook her head. “I am surprised.”

“That I was in possession of a library?” Duncan chuckled. “I am sure you are equally as surprised that I can read, also.”

“No, not that.” She laughed softly and looked away as if embarrassed. “That you would...” She forced herself to look at him and that smile grew, reaching her eyes in such a way that he didn’t have to imagine what she was thinking. He could see it. “That you would think to show me.”

“Oh. Well... I thought you might appreciate it. If not, that is fine --”

“No, no,” she hurried to cut him off. “I do appreciate it. I really, really do.”

Silence fell between them. Duncan holding the lamp in one hand, the tome in the other, not certain what he should say or do but feeling rather proud of himself for this most selfless act. And Isabella, eyeing him curiously, appearing equally as unsure as if she was waiting for the catch, the trap, the trip that he was about to play on her.

“So...” He clicked his tongue. “You like it?’

“I do, very much.” She exhaled and looked about the library, her smile growing. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Duncan. Sincerely, this is... it is wonderful of you.”

Duncan smiled; a completely natural thing. “You are most welcome.”

It was not the first time that Duncan had given Isabella a gift; the first week of their marriage, all he did was lavish her in gifts because he had wanted to keep her docile and content. But those were all superficial and he had never actually cared what she thought of them. This was different.

He could see how much she appreciated the gesture. And seeing that had his stomach knotting in ways that he wasn’t wholly familiar with – it had been years since he’d felt such a thing. His relationship with his wife thus far had been physical only, purely amorous as they had not once dared to get too close. But this right here, right now, was something else.

Dammit, Duncan was pleased to see his wife so happy. A very strange thing.

“So...” Duncan clicked his tongue and looked about the room. “Shall I leave you to it?”

She laughed. “I think it is a little late. But tomorrow, if you are looking for me, you know where to find me.”

He laughed also. “Or if I need to avoid you.”

“Exactly.”

Another silence fell. This one far more tense and unsure.

It reminded Duncan of why he had been so generous with his gifts in that first week, specifically to create atmospheres such as this. Both of their moods were high right now which was the exact opposite of how things usually went between them. Which in itself was a problem.

It was late in the evening. Time to retire to bed. A perfect opportunity for Duncan to say something derisive, for Isabella to defend herself, for them to fall back into their usual patterns of which they had both become so accustomed. Only now, after what had just happened, that didn’t feel quite right to do.

She looks so happy. The last thing I want to do is insult or anger her. A rather annoying turn of events, truth be told.

It was a reminder of why they treated one another the way that they did, and the pitfalls of trying to change things.

“I think I need a drink,” Isabella said suddenly, as if she could read the mind. “Would you... like to join me in one?”

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds lovely. And yes, I will.”

She nodded and smiled slightly, head down as she walked past him. And Duncan followed, sensing a clear shift in their relationship but unable to decide if it was for the best or if he’d just ruined the only good thing that had come from this marriage.

Time would tell, he supposed. Likely he would know within the hour.

“So, um... your grandmother is lovely,” Isabella said awkwardly. Then she took a long sip of her drink.

“She can be,” Duncan agreed. He smiled and nodded, and Isabella returned it. Then, sensing the silence about to descend on them, he quickly added. “And she liked you too, I think.”

“That is good.”

“Yes, it is.” Duncan took a sip of his drink also, a little longer than what was needed, but like Isabella he was clearly doing so to fill the silence rather than being forced to sit through it.

“I... I was worried she might not like me,” Isabella attempted lamely.

“Oh?”

“The circumstances surrounding our marriage – how rushed it all was. I thought she might have suspected something...” A light chuckle and she took another sip.

“I think she was just glad to see me wed,” Duncan laughed, albeit without any humor. “I know she wished to see it before she passed.”

“As she should,” Isabella agreed, only because she felt the need to say something.

“I know she wants grandchildren too,” Duncan joked. His eyes then turned wide, and he looked away, coughing to clear his throat. “Not that we are – I do not expect – forget I said that...” Another awkward bout of laughter, swallowed by the silence that surrounded the not-so-happy couple.

They sat together in Duncan’s drawing room. On the same couch. By the fireplace. Sharing a bottle of whiskey that was quickly vanishing; Isabella was drinking quite a bit, simply because she felt the need to do something with her mouth.

She had suggested that they share a drink because it had felt like the right thing to say. The mood that had existed in the library had not been one that might give way to sexual congress, so she figured a drink or two would ease tensions and re-set what had turned into a rather strange night. Strange for all the wrong reasons.

Duncan’s surprise had shocked Isabella beyond her reasoning. It was not only kind but overly thoughtful and generous. A gift that she was beyond grateful for, and for which she would have liked to have proven this gratitude in ways that she was certain her husband would appreciate. Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about that.

Whenever she and Duncan had sex, it was always brought about through fire and brimstone and argument and anger. But after his most thoughtful gift, she did not feel right about upsetting him. What was more, she did not want to.

What she wanted was what she had decided during their dinner with his grandmother. To learn more about her husband so that she might see if there was a chance that the two could be more than what they were – if there was a future of any kind here.

Duncan’s grand gesture seemed to suggest he was of the same mind. Only now, sitting in this most tense silence, struggling to have even the most basic of conversations, and Isabella was beginning to wonder if she had vastly overestimated their compatibility.

Have we reached the peak of our relationship? One of sexual aggression and exploration but not much else? And do I even want that?

“Might I ask you something?” Isabella began, deciding that she had but one chance to coax a real conversation from her husband. If this did not work, then she knew there was no hope for them.

“Yes,” he said a little too quickly. “Anything.”

“It was something that your grandmother spoke of earlier...” She looked at Duncan, and he looked away as he must have guessed what she was about to ask. “And if it is not something you wish to speak of, I understand completely. Only, I was wondering...” She trailed off, not sure how to ask.

“You wish to know who Andrea is?” he asked the question in a whisper, speaking into his chest.

“Only if you want to. I do not wish to force you or... or appear as if I--”

“It is fine,” he sighed and shook his head to himself. “Perhaps it is best if I...” He looked past them. “Might I refill my glass first?” An awkward chuckle. “I think I will need it.”

“Of course.”

Duncan rose and got about refilling his glass. Isabella watched him, feeling relieved that the two might finally engage in honest conversation – a huge step forward. Surely, once he opened up, that would be the beginning of a fresh start for them? Assuming what he told her didn’t shatter her entire reality of the man she now called husband.

“Andrea was a woman who I was seeing when I was younger,” Duncan began, still speaking softly and not looking at Isabella. His expression was pained. “I was seventeen when we met – at a tavern, of all places. She was a server there and I took a liking to her.”

“Oh.” Isabella blinked. “She was...”

“Common, yes,” he said with a soft smile. “But I was young and impetuous and truthfully, I liked how angry it made my father. At first, that was the reason I continued to see her...” He laughed to himself. “Just to frustrate the old man.”

“You do have a way about you,” Isabella joked.

“But then something happened that even I could not have foreseen.” He took a deep breath, clearly a little shaken. “She fell pregnant. My father was furious, of course, threatened to disown me. But I would not listen.”

“What... what happened?” Isabella prompted gently. She reached over and rested a hand on Duncan’s thigh in support.

“I insisted that I marry her, as was right to do.” He nodded to himself, as if he needed reminding of that fact. “But my father did some digging and found out that Andrea was...” He clicked his tongue. “She was not quite as faithful as I had thought her to be. She was seeing other men,” he said as he snapped his head up and looked at Isabella for the first time; the pain as clear as day in his eyes. “Funny that I did not care – nor did I believe it, as I should have. In my mind, the baby was my own and I owed it to her and the child to wed. As crazy as that sounds.”

“It is not crazy at all.”

He shrugged. “The point is moot. My father and I had a big fight, and I went to see Andrea only to... for her to be...” He sniffed and wiped his nose, looking away in shame. “One of the other men whom she was sleeping with had killed her. I don’t know why exactly,” he said quickly. “Or who, for that matter. But I found her body, stabbed, and I put two and two together.”

“Oh my...” Isabella gasped.

“My father was delighted, of course. That led to another fight, one which we never really came back from...” He sighed and his shoulder slumped. A deep sip of whiskey to steel himself and he chuckled as if he needed to, to fill the silence and cut through the tension. “So, if you have been wondering why I am so... twisted. Now you know.”

“Duncan...” Isabella squeezed his hand, feeling her heart break at the story.

It made perfect sense in its own way. How closed off Duncan was. His clear disdain for the institution of marriage. No doubt he cared for this woman, certainly for the unborn child, and her death poisoned him to the entire concept of marriage and everything that might come with it.

The after-effects of the story hovered between she and Duncan. Like a heavy winter cloak it was suffocating and Isabella regretted having asked. Her intent had been to learn more about Duncan, which she had done, but at what cost?

She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to hold him. But that wasn’t what their relationship was like at all and she felt that if she did that it would have come across as awkward and forced.

“I am so sorry,” she said lamely. “That is... that is just awful.”

He nodded as he looked down at the floor. “That is one word for it.”

“And I – if there is anything I can do?”

He smiled, still not looking at her. “There is nothing, but I do appreciate it.” He then exhaled and put his glass down. “But I think I might turn in for the night. It feels about that time.”

“Oh... yes. Of course.”

He stood and looked down at her. Smiling still, a look behind his eyes that had her wondering if he was going to ask her to join him – she hoped he would. If for no other reason than to prove that they did not need to fight for such things to occur.

He nodded once, smiled again, and then turned and left. Which left Isabella alone in that room, caught between telling herself that she had done the right thing, or that she should have just minded her own business.

If she had done, she would likely be in his room right now being savaged as she very much liked. Now, she could not help but wonder if that would ever happen again.