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

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

I t had been two days since Duncan had heard from Isabella. But that didn’t surprise him. In fact, he preferred it that way. Even more to that point, if he had his way, he might never see her again.

He sat at the desk in his study, a blank piece of parchment before him, quill in hand as he tried to will himself to write a letter that he knew would do no good in postponing, for nothing was going to change. But that did not make the words come any easier, nor did it make them any less painful to accept.

How did it come to this? Where did I go wrong? What could I have done differently?

Those were the questions that had danced through Duncan’s head ever since the Stoneside garden party, the last time he had seen or spoken with his wife.

The answers to his questions were obvious, but he had spent the past two days denying them, until this morning when he knew that he could deny them no longer.

This was all Duncan’s fault. He, a violent and angry and dangerous man, had gotten involved with a woman who he shouldn’t have, and as was entirely predictable, she had ended up getting hurt.

It was a miracle that Isabella herself wasn’t physically harmed, but that was through sheer luck. Thoughts of what might have happened if Juliet had gotten to Isabella, and Duncan shuddered.

Isabella deserved better than him.

If he could go back in time, he would have forgone his honor and cancelled this marriage before it had a chance to destroy lives, as it had.

The best thing he could do now, the right thing to do, was to separate himself entirely from Isabella, this town, the ton , and pray that no more harm was caused to those whom he loved.

He chuckled bitterly at that.

The irony. It is just as I admit my true feeling that I am forced to severe ties, doomed to live a life alone. Which I had once wanted, before discovering there was something even better...

He loved Isabella. Duncan now knew that. What else could it be? Unable to stop thinking about her. Refusing to move on. The pain and hurt that he felt from sunrise to sunset whenever he dared to picture what the rest of his life might be now that she would not be in it.

Only she had been able to control him.

Only she had been able to bring out a side in him that he had not known existed.

Only she had accepted him as he was, even if it was for a short time, and made him open to her in ways that he had never known himself capable of doing. He had loved her and, as was typical with Duncan, he had ruined it.

So he sat himself down to write her a letter. The last time he planned on communicating with her. Ever.

As to its contents? Yet to be written but an apology would be a start. Apologizing for forcing this on her. For tricking her into believing that he had changed. And for what had happened to her sister, which Duncan bore full responsibility for.

The apology would be the easy bit. What came next...

Isabella had never wanted this marriage and where he could not divorce her, he would give her the next best thing. Duncan planned on leaving England for good, travelling to places unknown so that Isabella would never have to worry that she might hear his name spoken again. He did not even care what people said of him. The truth would likely come out soon, that it was not his fault per se, and people would scramble to believe it because they would not be able to comprehend that he could do such a thing.

But this was his fault. He did do this. Maybe not how people thought he had, but the point remained the same.

Isabella would be free of him, finally. And where Duncan did not expect her to ever forgive him for what he did, he hoped that this last act might at least stop her from hating him.

Even if I deserve every bit of it.

With a bereaved sigh, he dipped his quill in the ink and began to write.

My dearest Isabella...

Isabella stayed by Louisa’s bed for two days straight. She hardly slept. She barely ate. She refused to so much as move until her sister woke up so that she could see Isabella sitting there – so that Isabella could apologize and beg for forgiveness before any other words were spoken.

Even two days later and she still could not believe what had happened.

The truth had since come out. Whether it be through Juliet’s crazed bemoaning of events, or her sister’s retelling of what happened before passing out from blood loss. A calamity of events that had seen her shut herself away from Duncan because in this, Isabella knew herself to be the real villain.

Isabella had done this. That was what she was forced to comprehend. She had played with fire and her sister was the one who was burned. If only she had listened to her sister. If only she hadn’t tried to play games. Then none of this might have happened.

Isabella forced herself to look at that scar, shuddering to her very core. A bandage covered it at the moment, but she had seen it. Oh, how she had. It was a jagged, hideous thing, carving its way down the right side of her face so that Louisa would never be truly beautiful again. A punishment, it felt like, one which her sister had taken but which should have been for Isabella.

Shame flooded Isabella as much as anything. And she could not imagine what Duncan thought of her. Did he think she had sent her sister there to spy on him? Did he think that she did not trust him? She could not blame him with the way she had acted of late.

Ultimately it came down to the very real fact that Duncan and Isabella’s relationship… it had always been tenuous at best. Violent and chaotic. Fine when it was just the two of them, but now her sister was forced to pay the price and for that Isabella would never forgive herself.

“Isabella...” The voice spoke softly from the bed.

“Louisa!” Isabella started with shock. “You’re awake!”

“Very observant.”

She threw herself at her sister, careful not to get too close to her face. “You’re awake! You’re awake – I am so glad! You have no idea how much I --” She caught her tongue, forcing the sanctimony down, because that was not what she had stayed by her sister’s bed for two whole days to do.

A deep breath and Isabella pushed herself back and sat back down. Expression pained, she met her sister’s eyes, tears brimming in them.

“I am so sorry,” Isabella began. “You have no idea how much I am. For all of this... everything. It is my fault, Louisa. And where you may not want to forgive me – I will not blame you. You need to know how truly and completely sorry I am.”

Louisa frowned. “Sorry? Whatever for?”

Isabella frowned. “Louisa... your face. You do remember what happened --”

“Of course I do,” Louisa cut her off. “I was there, remember.”

“Then you know why I am sorry. And you should know too that from this day forward I will do everything that I can to make it up to you. You have my word.”

Still, Louisa frowned. “Isabella... why on earth are you apologizing? This had nothing to do with you.”

“Of course it did,” Isabella said. “I might not have held the knife but... but I also did not listen! You warned me. You warned me and I ignored you because I am a fool. And now you are hurt, and it is all because of me.”

Her sister frowned. “You? But Lady St. Vincent was the one who –”

“Yes, she might have been the one to hold the knife, but I might as well have put it in her hand,” Isabella sighed. “You warned me. Duncan and I… we are not good for one another. And this right here is proof of it.”

Louisa sighed and shook her head. “Trust you to make this all about you.”

“But it is about –”

“Me,” Louisa cut her off. “Not you. Nor is it about your husband. Speaking of, where is here…” She looked about as if expecting Duncan to be standing in the room.

“I do not know,” Isabella said, feeling a stabbing in her chest. “But it is for the best.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you not been listening? You were nearly killed, Louisa. Killed because of my stupid games. You were right from the beginning. Duncan and I cannot work. We are poison and we forced you to have a taste! I have thought about it long and hard and… and…” Her chest cracked. “It is for the best if he and I do not see one another again.”

“Surely, you are joking,” Louisa said.

Isabella pushed her lips together. “What? No, of course I am not. Why would I be?”

“Because I was wrong about him. Clearly. And you, for that matter.”

“But... but... but...” Isabella looked at her sister as if she had lost her mind, which she very well may have. As if that scar ran so deep that it touched her brain.

“Isabella...” Louisa shook her head. “When we last spoke, I said some not very nice things about your husband.”

“You spoke the truth!”

“I thought I did,” she agreed. “So, when I saw he and Lady St. Vincent sneaking into the manor alone, I thought to catch them in the act.”

“And the fact that you felt the need to do this is my –”

“Will you just listen!” Louisa snapped. “Honestly, you are being rather self-righteous. One would think that you were the one who was stabbed.”

“I am just saying –”

“All the wrong things,” Louisa sighed. She reached out and took Isabella’s hand, squeezing it as she met her eyes. “Lady St. Vincent...” She scoffed. “She was confessing her love for your husband. What was more, she believed that if he refused to admit that he loved you, then she might have a chance. It was rather strange...” She chuckled. “Even more so that when he refused to, she completely lost her mind.”

“Yes, I know all of this,” Isabella said.

“And yet you refuse to listen.” She looked pointedly at Isabella. “He might not have said it in so many words, but it was clear to me that your husband loves you. Far more than I thought he did – hence, my being wrong. Perhaps your relationship is a little odd. Perhaps the two of you are a tad antagonistic compared to most. But if that is what works, then so be it. Who am I to judge?”

“I –” Isabella opened her mouth to argue the point but no words came out.

Duncan loves me? Surely, Louisa misunderstood?

“Are you certain… what makes you think that?” she asked.

“Think what?”

“That he loves me.” Her pulse began to race.

Louisa sighed. “Because I could see it, Isabella. I could hear it in his words. I admit, I am not expert in love, but I like to think that I can tell when a man is in love with someone – his wife, especially. And if you had heard the way that he dismissed Lady St. Vincent, well…” She shrugged. “What else could it be?”

The room seemed to turn around Isabella.

It should not have been such a strange thing to hear that one’s own husband loved them but, when considering the strangeness of Isabella and Duncan’s marriage, it was almost unbelievable.

They had never spoken about love before. They had never even spoken about their feelings. With how tumultuous their relationship was, it was enough that they had found a rhythm which allowed them to enjoy one another’s company intimately and completely without muddying the waters with talk of love.

She had not even been certain that Duncan was capable of love. She certainly didn’t think that she was. For all her life, love was the last thing that she had ever wanted, thinking it a waste of time and a distraction. Why tie oneself down with longings of love when there was a world to explore and endless study to get lost in?

But now that the words had been said, that she knew them to be true, she could not help but wonder... did she love Duncan?

I do not even know what love is. How can I be expected to answer such a question?!

She supposed that she did miss him, now that she thought about it. The sex, she clearly missed, for that was the backbone of their entire relationship. But beyond the sex... those intimate moments they spent together when they were not tearing at the other’s bodies like starved animals...

They fought often. They argued all the time. They pushed one another. They teased and tested and annoyed. It should have been a recipe for disaster, a calamity of a relationship that never had a chance of working. Yet the more that Isabella thought about it, the more she realized that was exactly what she loved about their marriage.

Forever against the concept of falling in love, perhaps what Isabella had feared was falling in love with the wrong person? Someone who bored her. Someone who tried to change her. Someone who did not like her for who she was but for who they wanted her to be.

That was not Duncan.

And so it was, as her sister eyed her knowingly, and as Isabella searched her feelings like she never had before, she came to realize an answer so obvious that it was almost embarrassing it has taken her this long to admit.

Isabella loved Duncan. And more than that, he loved her too.

“I was wrong about him,” Louisa continued, smirking slightly now for she could surely see the look in Isabella’s eyes. “And I was wrong about you too.”

“I... I... I....” Isabella stomach began to turn with regret. And fear. For two days she had avoided her husband for reasons that were not his fault, and she could not imagine what he must be thinking.

“Should be leaving,” Louisa picked up for her. “And quickly. You and your husband have a lot to talk about and you’re not going to do it sitting around here. Now...” She nodded her head toward the door. “Go and tell him how you feel. And for once, Isabella, be nice. I can’t help but think that he’s earned it.”