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

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

" Y ou seem nervous?” Isabella said to Duncan as they walked around the side of the Stoneside manor, arm in arm.

“Am I?”

She shrugged. “I know you pretty well by now, you know.”

“Is that right?”

“Well enough to know that for reasons I cannot fathom, you are nervous. What’s the matter...” She winked. “Worried what people might say when they see us together?”

“They have seen us together already,” Duncan laughed, albeit with a hint of nerves.

“Not fighting, however. They might not know what to think.”

He laughed again. “That is one state of shock I am happy to bring about in others. Certainly nothing to be nervous about.” He swallowed noticeably, which he then cursed himself for.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you say so...”

Duncan smiled and shook his head and attempted his best to not look nervous. Even if he was. Even if he was so darn worried that he could feel the sweat dripping down his back and pooling under his arms.

It is going to be fine. I am sure that she is not even here. And if she is, even Juliet is not such a fool to make a scene. Is she?

It was the day of the Stoneside garden party and despite his protests, Duncan was attending if for no other reason than it made Isabella happy. Indeed, she had been at him these last three days, reminding him, prodding him, seeming to want him to argue and say he wasn’t going.

She knows. And she is trying to get me to confess.

But Duncan would not confess. If Juliet did attend, he would subtly pull her aside and tell her he was not interested. That would nip it in the bud and Isabella would never have to find out.

They arrived shortly before midday, breaching the back garden to dozens of pairs of eyes turned on them as if they were the guests of honor. A few waved. Many smiled. And Duncan kept his composure as he swept his eyes across the back garden and over the guests... searching.

“Ah, there is my sister,” Isabella said. “And my mother.”

“Shall we say hello?”

She pushed her lips together. “No, I do not think so – later. Let us do the rounds first, shall we?”

“As you wish.”

For the first twenty minutes or so, Duncan and Isabella played the perfect couple and despite himself, Duncan found that he enjoyed it. It was a strange thing, having another on your arm, an extension of you it seemed, there to act as support for the mindless drivel and palaver that these little events tended to bring.

Even better was that Duncan found that he trusted Isabella.

He did not have to worry that she might say the wrong thing. He did not have to pay attention as she spoke, fearful that she would embarrass or anger him in any way. He knew her well by now, and he delighted in seeing the looks of both jealousy and approval in his contemporaries.

Throughout it all, Duncan’s mind was only half engaged. As they walked about the garden and said their hellos, he searched and scoured for the one person who threatened to drive a knife through this day as if trying to murder it.

“Are you sure you are fine?” Isabella asked as they said their goodbyes to Count Wellington and his wife. “Your mind seems to be somewhere else?”

“Does it?” He forced himself to look at her. “Just... marveling in your beauty.”

She rolled her eyes, but he saw her smile to herself. It was a smile that delighted Duncan in ways that were new to him but not at all unfounded. Lately, bringing a smile to Isabella’s lips was one of his great pleasures and that as much as anything gave him courage for what he knew was about to come.

Indeed, no sooner was Isabella looking away as if embarrassed, did Duncan see none other than Juliet enter the garden.

Her eyes met Duncan’s, and they flashed delight. She licked her lips and smiled at him, and he felt his stomach sink.

This madness had to stop. He would not allow Juliet, or anyone else for that matter, to disturb this newfound peace he’d achieved. Especially, if it meant Isabella might get hurt or grow cold toward him again, as she once had.

“Ah... I need to visit the washroom, I am afraid.” Duncan pulled his arm free.

“Oh?”

“I will be right back. Perhaps it is time you spoke with your sister?”

Isabella looked about. “I can’t see where she is. Probably hiding.”

Duncan frowned. “From what?”

“Never mind,” Isabella sighed. “My mother is waving me over, best say hello.” She indicated to her mother, who was already on her way.

“And that is my cue to leave,” Duncan laughed. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” He turned and met Juliet’s eyes and then, as she watched him, he made sure to lean in and give Isabella a kiss on the cheek.

He then ducked away from Isabella, keeping low as he made for Juliet. But he did not go straight for her, walking around the long way and then coming in from behind.

Even then, he made sure to stand back, and he did not face her directly as he spoke.

“I was not sure if you would come,” he said, focusing on a rose bush, as if it brought him great interest, while refusing to look directly at Juliet.

“I had no choice. I had to --”

“Not here,” Duncan demanded, concealing his fury with great difficulty.

“Where?”

“Inside, the kitchen. Meet me in two minutes.” He did not wait for an answer, putting his head down and powering toward the manor.

Once inside, he ducked through the back hallway and walked into the kitchen, where he began to mentally prepare himself for a conversation that he did not want to have but knew he must.

Juliet swept into the kitchen a moment later and the very second that Duncan saw the look in the woman’s eyes, he knew this was not going to be as easy a conversation as he would have liked. Not even close.

“Your Grace!” she purred as she went for him, already reaching out her hands as if she meant to take his head in them and pull his lips into a kiss. “I was hoping I would see --”

Duncan snatched her hands and held them back. “Juliet, there will be none of that. We need to talk.”

She tried for a disarming chuckle as Duncan released her hands and she folded them behind her back. “Why do you think I am here? To talk.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “This is not a conversation that you will enjoy, Juliet. I need you to understand this.”

“Duncan...” She sighed and looked at him knowingly. “Do not play the fool with me – and do not lie to yourself, either. I think we are both passed that. Don’t you?”

“I read your letter, Juliet and I had hoped that my lack of a response was answer enough.”

“It wasn’t an answer at all. But in that, I saw what you wanted to say. What you need to say, even if fear is holding you back. That is why I came, to give you the chance to say it to my face.”

“Juliet...” He groaned. “I do not love --”

“Don’t say it!” she cut him off. “Not yet. Please, before you say anything, let me explain. I did not write that letter on a whim. And I did not come here today because of some delusion. I would hope you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did.”

“Then please.” Again, she went to take his head in her hands and Duncan snatched them and held them back. She smiled sheepishly and pulled them away. “I just want to talk, that is all.”

“Then talk.”

Duncan’s affair with Juliet had never meant to be more than what it was, a sexual relationship with no strings or expectations because as he had told her when it began that he did not want anything serious. And she had concurred with that reasoning. She had told him that she was of the same mind.

Indeed, throughout their brief affair, it had been this way. And when Duncan ended it, although she had been upset, she had accepted it soundly and without protest. That was, after all, why he had chosen her.

She had an elegant and refined beauty about her. Regal in how well put together she was. Tall and lithe, sharp features, soft white skin, and dark hair. At the time, she had been the epitome of beauty in Duncan’s eyes, perfect because that was how he liked his women.

Funny that to see her now, when comparing her to Isabella, he could not help but feel surprised that once he had been so sexually drawn to this woman.

Now all he could think was that she was no Isabella.

“When you ended things between us,” Juliet began carefully. “I was surprised to say the least. And hurt. But I was also understanding – even you must admit that.”

“I do.”

“And for a brief time, I tried to accept it, that there was nothing I could do to change your mind so why fight it? But Your Grace...” She looked at him pleadingly. “I do not accept it. I cannot! It has been weeks now, months, and each day that I am forced to live in a world where I know I will never get to see you again, where I will never feel your touch...” She reached out with one hand, but then held it back. “It is more than I can bare.”

“I do not care, Juliet. I am married,” Duncan said, not wanting to give any sense of false hope. “There is nothing that --”

“Run away with me,” she said quickly.

“Excuse me?” Duncan blanched.

“I know you are married. I know that you think you must commit – that your honor demands it as so. But it does not have to be that way. I love you Duncan, I always have, I know it now. And... and if you feel the same way about me, what does it matter what people think or say? Let us go where their voices cannot follow and we can live how we wish. Let us leave all of this behind, for who needs it. Let us --”

“That is not an option.”

“It is!” she cried. “Remember what we had...’ She took a step closer to Duncan, her chin beginning to quiver as tears welled in her eyes. “What it was like when we were together. Picture it, please. And then tell me that you do not miss it.”

“I do not miss it,” Duncan said, not even feeling a pang of guilt when he saw the hurt in Juliet’s face. “I am sorry, I am. But I do not --”

“You love her?” Juliet cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you love her? Because if you do...” She bit into her lip as she considered. “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you do, then I will accept that. But if you cannot...” Her stare became hopeful.

Duncan balked.

He took a step back and looked away, his face turning red as if he was embarrassed. Such a simple question, one that he should not have struggled to answer – or even lie about. Yet it was more complex than that and lying felt wrong to do. As if he was betraying her.

Perhaps that should have told him the truth of the matter.

His mind immediately drifted to their love making. First, those bliss filled weeks of domination and debauchery. Those he would always cherish, the luck that he had found someone with the same proclivities as him.

Then his mind went to these past two weeks. Yes, the sex this week had been different to what Duncan thought he enjoyed, but that was also the point. It was better. Better because their relationship was no longer so dependent on it for survival. And that made it real.

The sex was proof that they could work as a couple – that they did work. Because when they weren’t making love, they were spending time together, getting to know one another, learning and growing in ways that Duncan hadn’t considered fully until now.

Isabella pushed him like no other.

She angered him as if it was a sport.

She tested him. Teased him. She frustrated him! But she also knew him, and that was what Duncan now understood. She knew where the line was, how to flirt with it, how to provoke not just anger but interest and companionship.

Duncan had spent his life convincing himself he did not wish to fall in love. But perhaps that wasn’t really what he had been avoiding? Perhaps he had simply feared falling in love with the wrong woman, and for the wrong reasons.

That wasn’t Isabella. What was more, Juliet wasn’t Isabella.

“You want to know how I feel?” Duncan said.

“Yes,” Juliet pleaded. “I love you, Your Grace. And I know that you feel the same for me. But can you say it of her! Can you?”

A soft smile spread over Duncan’s face.

“What? What is it?” Juliet demanded.

Duncan opened his mouth to tell Juliet that he did indeed love his wife. Only he paused, because something about the confession didn’t seem right. This was after all, the first time he had admitted to himself that he loved Isabella and it felt that if anyone should learn of this first, it should be her.

“I do not love you,” he said to Juliet. “And that is all which matters.”

“So, you do not love her!” Juliet cried hysterically.

“Juliet...” Duncan sighed. “I am sorry that things have transpired this way, truly I am. But I must ask that you leave me and my wife alone --”

“She deserves to know the truth!” Juliet cried hysterically. “That you do not love her.”

“I did not say that.”

“You did not have to. I can see it!”

“Juliet…” Duncan growled. “I suggest that you calm down.”

She shook her head and took a step back. “She does not love you like I do – and you know it!” Her eyes flashed zealously, as if she had been taken over by a demonic force hellbent on destruction. “But if you will not admit it, she will have to for you instead.”

“Juliet!” Duncan strode for her, but she spun about and stormed from the room.

At least that was her aim. But she reached the door which led from the kitchen, only to find her way blocked.

“Who are you!” Juliet barked. “Out of my way.”

“I am not going anywhere. Not if you mean to try and ruin my sister’s marriage.” It was Louisa of all people, arms folded, face set in a way that was reminiscent of her sister.

“Miss Gouldsmith!” Duncan gasped.

She grimaced. “I am so sorry, Your Grace. I saw the two of you come in here and I followed and...” She grimaced further. “I may or may not have overheard what you were saying.”

“How dare you!” Juliet cried.

“Me!” Louisa was back on her. “You are the one who is trying to destroy my sister’s marriage. Her reputation! And if that is what you mean to do...” She unfolded her arms and held them up as if she meant to tackle Juliet. “You will have to get through me.”

“Is that so?” Juliet cast her eyes about the kitchen, landing on a stray knife lying on the bench. She snatched it and held it before her. “I suggest that you move.”

“Juliet!” Duncan cried and lunged for her.

“I love you!” Juliet screamed as she leapt at Louisa.

“No --” Louisa cried out as she reached for Juliet’s arms to hold back the knife.

It all happened so quickly. Three bodies coming together in a glorious clash. Knife flailing. Legs kicking. Bodies writhing. And as was to be expected, blood splattering...