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

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

"... I

really am sorry,” the Duke of Hermon apologized. “And were the circumstances any different...”

“It is fine,” Isabella sighed, even if it was not. “I understand completely. You are scared to be embarrassed by a woman, I get it.”

He looked at her flatly. “Does that often work?”

“Does what work?”

“Insulting the man from whom you are asking a favor?”

She shrugged. “If you will notice, I did not start insulting you until after you refused to help me. You have left me no other choice.”

“Ah, I see,” he chuckled. “So, this is a final, and desperate effort to shock me into submission? Or to beat me bloody until I have no choice but to acquiesce to your request.”

“I am desperate,” Isabella said. “And you would be surprised how often that works. Most men would be so concerned with having their ego’s challenged by a woman like me that they would trip over themselves to prove how wrong I am.”

“I do not doubt it,” he grinned. “But I am not most men.”

“Apparently your ego cannot be bruised.”

“Oh, it can be,” he responded seriously, but with a smile hidden behind his eyes. “Just not as far as my intelligence is concerned. You might as well accuse a giant of being short.”

“Ah, and he is modest.”

“And tall,” the Duke responded with a wink. “But that’s irrelevant.” She rolled her eyes at the cheek. “I am sorry, Your Grace. Truly, I am,” he started again, sounding sincere, which she was certain to be the truth. “And if the circumstances were slightly different, then perhaps my answer would be also. However...”

“They are not different, so your answer remains the same.”

He nodded his head, lips pressed together apologetically. “Of course, that will not stop you from writing to me. Asking questions. Perhaps even receiving some answers, if I can be bothered.”

“How very generous,” she laughed.

He shrugged. “My towering intellect is not all I am known for.”

“Ah yes, that would be your ego, no?”

The Duke of Hermon was not at all what Isabella had been expecting. Knowing little of the man, save for what she had heard concerning his studies and his willingness to tutor young ladies privately if he deemed them worthy, he was also far younger than she had thought. And more handsome. And infinitely more charming than a man as learned as he should have been.

She had sought him out the moment that she and Duncan had arrived at the ball. And as soon as she had him alone, she asked the question that had been a dream of hers for as long as she could remember.

“Might you be willing to take me on as a student?”

A simple question. One which she had been certain he would say yes to. She had even prepared an argument, a few poignant questions and theorems devised to show that she was not just another lady looking to get close to the single Duke for reasons that he was surely used to. She was serious and he needed to know it!

Frustratingly, the Duke knew who she was, and had heard of her marriage to Duncan. For this reason, he denied her his help, citing the inappropriateness of them spending so much time together. Especially seeing as Duncan had not given her his approval.

It was annoying to be sure, although she could see his point. All the two had done so far was talk, but the man was charming and wholly aware of it. So much that Isabella reminded herself to be careful, even taking a small step back so as not to put herself too close.

“So...” He took a sip of his wine. “Where is your husband tonight? Close by, I would hope? He is not such a fool to leave a flower as transcendent as you on your own. I believe there are crimes against that.”

“Oh, he is here,” she said simply, resisting the urge to look but praying that Duncan was watching. “So, you best be careful.”

“Ha!” he laughed. “You mistake me, Your Grace. I am just being kind.”

“Not kind enough to help me, however.”

“My kindness has its limits.”

Yes, he was entirely too charming and flirtatious, Isabella decided. It was a type of charm that felt forced and fake, rehearsed in that way which suggested he spoke the same way to every lady whom he engaged with. She did not know much of the man’s romantic reputation, but she was certain that it featured a litany of scandals which she would do better to avoid.

In fact, now that she had learned that the Duke would not be helping her, Isabella knew it would be best to say her goodbyes before anything untoward might happen. Best to be safe, rather than sorry.

A quick glance about the ball room, double checking that they weren’t being watched too closely. That was all Isabella needed right now. Why was it that a woman could not speak to another man without being accused of a scandal? Although she wondered what the bigger scandal might be. Accusations of her flirting, or the fact that she had approached him to ask for a favour concerning her education.

Either way, she reminded herself to be careful. If Duncan was to see her speaking with the duke, she could only imagine what he would say… and then do.

Was it wrong that a small part of her was excited by the prospect? That Duncan would see them speaking, be sent into a jealous rage, and the be snapped from the calm demeanour he had worked so hard at putting forward these last few days? That the would take her home and ravage her and do as he ought to. As she wanted!

No, no. That was not the way to go about this. If Isabella wanted her relationship with Duncan to develop properly, she could not resort to tricks. She wanted it to be real. In fact, now that she though of it, she had spent far too much time speaking with the duke as it was. Best to remove herself before her husband saw.

At least that was the plan.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Hermon spoke suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Do not look now but there is a tall, dark, rather terrifying individual coming toward us. He can only be your husband.” He sounded amused by the thought.

“Isabella.” Duncan swept in beside her. “Might we have a word?”

“Oh, Duncan.” She took a hurried step away from the duke. “I was just about to come and find you.”

“Is that so.” He did not sound happy about it.

“It is,” she said with a smile, trying her best to diffuse what felt like an unnecessarily tense situation. “This is Lord Hermon. Have you met?”

Duncan frowned and tilted his head. “Hermon... the name rings a bell.”

“As does yours, Your Grace.” Hermon winked. “And might I say, your wife is a peach beyond compare. You are a lucky man.”

“Yes.” Duncan did not return the smile, eyeing Isabella in a way she knew only too well. “She is something. But if you do not mind...”

“Not at all,” Hermon said with a large smile. “And I am sorry I could not oblige you. Truly, I am.”

“It is fine,” she said with a touch of bitterness. “But we shall speak again soon, yes?”

“Anytime.” Hermon stepped back and offered a shot bow. “Now, if you both do not mind, my glass is empty and that is a crime against humanity any way that one might look at it.” He laughed and shuffled off into the crowd.

Isabella exhaled and turned to face Duncan. “Husband, how is your evening --”

“We need to talk,” he cut her off. “Now.”

She frowned. “About?”

“Not here.” He looked about them, taking note of a balcony that extended off the side of the ball room. “This way --” He turned to leave, only to turn back and glare a warning at her. “Now.”

Duncan stormed toward the balcony and Isabella finished her glass, handed it to a passing waiter, and then followed suit. Already her thighs were growing warm as her heart began to race with anticipation. Her husband was angry and that could mean only one thing...