by Eliza Knight
She was fairly certain that Alec had been serious. But he’d made no moves for a plan. Were they to wed tomorrow? Would he follow the English style and shout out the banns for three weeks? She dearly hoped not, for they would receive a knock on the door the very second it was read by Joshua Keith—or her parents—demanding retribution and termination of the proceedings.
Sir Joshua Keith. The vile lunatic. Giselle was quite concerned with what would happen when he found out she was here. The man was mad and mean. Angry, too. It was no wonder that he and Alec had been mortal enemies since childhood. She thought she would be too.
“I’ll run. Again,” she whispered to the empty room.
Perhaps this time she wouldn’t have to run, at least very far, because this time she would have Alec there. Alec, telling her parents that she was going to wed him instead. He didn’t strike her as the type of man to go back on an arrangement. And despite him saying it was to get his mother and the want-to-be brides downstairs off his back, there’d been no mistaking the pleasure of that kiss. The tenderness of it. A man couldn’t fake that, could he? Not the longing look in his eyes. Or the concern he’d shown for her. That was different. She was certain.
She touched her smooth cheek, running in the pattern of his scar, the fault of Sir Joshua Keith on the battlefield. The man seemed to have shown no remorse for his actions. Still he sauntered about Scotland and England as if he were the king’s personally chosen man when in essence, his position in court was moot.
Alec said the War Office knew the truth about what had happened on that fateful day during the Peninsular War, but a lot of good it did when Alec was the one who bore the scar from the debacle, and Joshua appeared not to bear any marks other than empty coffers, which he planned to fill with her parents’ money.
How many others were made to endure similar injury at the hands of a man so callous and selfish?
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Alec?
Giselle called for the door to open, and the maid who’d been kind enough to help her into her dressing gown carried in a platter of food. And something else—a book.
“What’s that?” Giselle asked, sitting up, eager to see what exactly had been placed on her meal tray.
“A book from his lordship. He thought ye might like to read after your supper, my lady.”
“How verra kind of him.” Giselle’s heart warmed all the more, and it took every ounce of willpower not to grab the book off the tray and tear into it right away.
“He is that, my lady. It’s rare anyone from society notices how good a man he is, but all of us know it, and now ye do too. Pardon me for speaking out of turn.”
Giselle shook her head. “I knew he was a good man.”
“He’s no beastie, my lady, pardon me for saying so, and apologies again. I just couldna help overhearing what ye said to your friend.”
“Oh.” Giselle felt heat rush to her face. “I was only jesting. Believe me, I think Lord Errol is the farthest thing from a beast, even if I tease him as such.”
The maid pressed her hand over her heart. “Glad I am to hear ye say it, your ladyship. We’re a bit protective of him here.”
“I adore that. And I’m certain he appreciates it as well.”
The maid smiled. “He does.” She clamped her mouth closed then, as if finally able to control her tongue.
Giselle hadn’t minded, though. She was bored to tears up here, and anyone who wanted to talk about the mysterious man she’d agreed to marry, she was happy to entertain. Even a maid.
“Well, thank ye for bringing my supper and the book.”
“Ye’re welcome, my lady. Have ye need of anything else?”
“No, thank ye.”
“As ye can see, I put a bell on the tray. I know ye canna get up to pull the rope for our attention, so I’m hoping someone might hear ye ringing the bell. I’ll be by in a bit to see if ye’ve finished and would like help to bed.”
As soon as the maid had departed, Giselle grabbed for the book, not caring at all for the bowl of soup that had been given her.
Pride and Prejudice: A Novel by the Author of “Sense and Sensibility.” Volume 1.
Giselle gasped. This was one of the books she’d yet to read, and here it was in her lap. When she’d teased Alec about not reading this type of book, she’d meant it seriously, but here he was, showing her he had a copy. Oh, she hoped he had the other two volumes.
She cracked open the book with pages that had already been turned and a spine that was broken in. How many times had he read it? The first lines drew her in immediately. Every page, she sipped her soup, not wanting it to go cold but also not wanting to put the book down.
The story was so marvelous. A household of sisters—which made her think instantly of Lord Euan Irvine, a mutual friend of Alec and Lorne’s. Giselle had the chance to meet Euan during one of their events, and it was a wonder she’d not run into Alec, though he had said he’d holed himself up in Slains.
The maid came and went, helping Giselle to her bed, but she kept on reading until the candle snuffed out, regrettably when she had one page left. She would either need to chance hurting herself in the dark to find another candle or wait until the sun came out, which could only be a few hours from now, before she found out how the book was going to end.
She set the book on the table beside her bed and lay back upon the silken sheets, forcing her eyes to close. But all she could see behind her eyes was the sisters, their love interests, their society problems—their mother. And it made her think of her mother and how she was ever going to be given a chance to repair their relationship when she’d run away and was now planning to marry a man her mother didn’t even know.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Likely, her mother knew exactly who Alec was. The whole lot of society must.
And then there was Alec, and his heated kiss flitting around in her mind as a caged bird trying to get out. She wanted to kiss him again. To tell him he could touch her hair, her cheek, whatever he might like—if only it afforded her the opportunity to explore the muscles of his shoulders and back.
But all these flights of fancy, these fantasies she was having when she should be sleeping, were going to get her nowhere. Their marriage was convenient. A safety net for them both.
So why did he have to go and give her that delicious book? Doing so only proved that he’d been thinking about her when she wasn’t with him. That he’d been thinking about what she’d like. That he knew what she liked.
That wasn’t simply the actions of a man who wished only to wed for convenience, was it?
10
The following morning, Giselle woke to her maid bringing in breakfast and Volume II in the Anonymous Woman’s Pride and Prejudice novel. She couldn’t have been more delighted. With the scent of bacon and sweet scones, she dove right into the novel.
Without words, Alec was showing a side of himself that she could have never dreamed of. Cooped up in this room no longer felt like a torment but a treat.
After breakfast, her maid returned, finding Giselle deep in the novel, which she reluctantly set aside to get ready for the day. Fortunately, Jaime had brought enough clothes with her to stay a month, and so there was plenty for Giselle to wear. Perks of being a duchess.
As a bonus, Giselle’s ankle didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had the day before, though it was still sore. A small bruise surrounded the injury, but it looked like a lot of the swelling had gone down.
After getting ready, she settled in the window seat to read, watching out the window as those in the party went for a stroll in the sunshine and again when the men went out for a hunt. By mid-afternoon, she’d completed Volume II and was getting ready to fashion a crutch from her bedpost in order to find the library when her tea arrived with the final volume of the novel on the tray.
“Please thank Lord Errol for me.”
“Aye, my lady. I will.”
By evening, the men had returned from the hunt, and Giselle could hear a conve
rsation going on downstairs. A knock sounded at her door, and she straightened up, wondering if it was Alec, but Jaime popped her head in.
“Oh! I’m so glad to see ye,” Giselle said.
“I’m sorry I have no’ been by yet today.” Jaime smiled brightly and rushed in to sit beside Giselle in the window seat and grasped her hand. “Can ye keep a secret?”
Giselle leaned forward, all of her attention on her friend. “Aye, of course.”
“I’ve been a bit under the weather today.” Jaime’s large smile did not convey the correct emotion for being ill.
Giselle frowned, recalling how the night before, Jaime had looked suddenly ill in the parlor and dashed out. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. “And ye are well now?”
Jaime nodded emphatically. She touched her hands to her belly. “I believe I’m with child.”
“Oh, my goodness, that is marvelous news.” Giselle wrapped her arms around Jaime and pulled her in for a hug. Until that moment, she’d never really thought about being a mother, or even Jaime being a mother, but the prospect was exciting.
“I’ve missed two courses now and just started getting sick the last couple of days.”
“I hate to wish ye ill, but in this circumstance, it is a good thing,” Giselle said with a laugh. “Does Lorne know?”
“No’ yet, I want to surprise him.”
“My lips are sealed.” Giselle made a motion of locking her lips closed.
“I’m so glad I could tell ye this secret. I was nearly bursting all day in my chamber.”
“I have news for ye too.” Giselle grinned. “I am to be married.”
Jaime’s smile fell. “Ye decided to go back to Sir Joshua?” She frowned and shook her head. “And how could ye possibly be happy about that? As your friend, I must advise—”
Giselle squeezed Jaime’s hand and interrupted her. “I assure ye, I’m no’ daft. Alec proposed to me last night—well, sort of proposed—and I agreed.”
“Sort of?” Jaime cocked her head to the side.
“It is more of an agreement.” The kiss they shared flashed into her mind, and a blast of heat flooded her veins. It had felt like a lot more than an agreement.
“An agreement?” Jaime asked.
Giselle shook her head, trying to force the thoughts of kissing from her mind. “Aye. He will marry me to keep his mother from meddling, and I will marry him to get me away from Sir Joshua.” She didn’t mention to Jaime that this would also help Alec settle an age-old score with Joshua. She was well aware of the implications of their marriage on the two men’s past discord.
“Ah.” But Jaime didn’t look thrilled; she looked sad.
Giselle stilled. “What? Is he no’ a good man?” Every bone in her body denied that.
Jaime shook her head, a soft, hesitant smile on her lips. “Nay, nay. Alec is a verra good man.”
“I think so too. And I think I shall be happy.” Still, she wished Jaime would divulge what was on her mind.
Jaime brightened, grasping both of Giselle’s hands in hers. “Are ye certain? I would never want anything less than for ye to be happy.”
Giselle glanced down at Volume III, which she’d completed, and Jaime followed her gaze.
“Pride and Prejudice? Was it good?”
Giselle let out a happy sigh. “Aye. Alec sent up each volume with my meals.”
“He knows ye like to read?”
Giselle nodded, and Jaime’s smile grew wider.
“I have to say, Giselle, that is rather romantic.” Jaime sighed. “I think your arrangement may have the potential for more.”
“I would hope it could, but even if no’, I will be satisfied.” That was only partly true. She longed for love, but in her current situation, this was the perfect solution. If she were able to read and kiss him the way that he’d done last night...Well, she’d be quite happy, she was certain.
Jaime’s eyes twinkled. “So what will ye gift him in return after his generous and romantic gesture?”
Giselle’s eyes widened in surprise. “I had no’ thought about it. I’ve nothing. No’ even my own clothes.” She indicated the gown she was wearing today, which was light green with dark green ribbons on the bodice.
Jaime frowned. “Aye, that is true. We shall have to think about it. Romantic gestures go both ways and are a good way to say ye care without the use of words.”
Giselle agreed, and she did want to show Alec in some way how thankful she was he’d done that for her.
“I know one way that ye can start,” Jaime said. “By coming downstairs. He is inundated by the women, especially your favorite, Lady Mary.”
Giselle rolled her eyes. “That lass is a piece of work.”
“Aye, and she’s made it verra clear to the other ladies in attendance that she intends to win him herself.”
Giselle laughed. “If only she knew he was already taken.”
“Exactly.” Jamie gave her a conspiratorial wink.
“I could have myself announced by his butler as his betrothed, but do ye no’ think that would make him angry? He’s yet to tell his mother.” Giselle rolled her eyes and then glanced out the window as if expecting the woman to be below the window, listening. “She terrifies me.”
“How do ye know he has no’ told her?”
“Because that dragon could no’ wait to get me out of her parlor last night. If he’d told her that he was going to marry me, she’d have been up here in a flash to give me a dressing down. Maybe even had her butler send me packing. I’m no’ certain why she dislikes me. I hardly remember ever interacting with her in Edinburgh.”
Jaime shrugged. “She seems to think her son deserves a certain type of woman if ye can believe it from the lasses downstairs. And ye are nothing like them.”
Giselle thought of all the frippery and empty-headedness. Was that the type of woman the dowager countess thought Alec liked or deserved? Someone who would simper and fawn. A plaything, but not having her own mind. She supposed then it was understandable why Giselle would not be looked at in the same light. “So verra accurate.”
“How does your ankle feel?”
Giselle lifted her leg, twirling her ankle as gingerly as she could manage. “Much better, though it is still a bit achy and weak when I walk. I’ve been able to maneuver about my room today, hopping and using furniture to hold onto. Progress.” She laughed and then stood, testing her ankle. It still ached when she put weight on it. “If I go downstairs, I’ll likely no’ be able to stand by his side for long.”
Jaime tapped her chin. “Hmm. I have an idea. What if I arrange for a game of cards, and then ye’ll be sitting? And I’ll have your maid bring ye a cane. I’m sure they have one somewhere in this house; it will help ye walk unassisted and without hopping.”
Giselle hated being so incapacitated as to be able to walk on her own barely. She was used to being active, but more so, to being able to escape any situation without the help of others.
“That would be verra nice, and I do so much appreciate it.”
“’Tis settled then. Ye’ve got plenty of gowns now, aye? Do ye need any more?”
Giselle shook her head. “I can no’ thank ye enough for clothing me. I suppose I should send for my things at some point, but I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.”
“Ye’re welcome to as many gowns as ye like. But ’tis better to yank out the thorn and let it heal than allow it to fester under the skin. If ye understand my meaning.”
Jaime had a point. The longer her mother and father—and Sir Joshua too—worried about her and looked for her, the worse it would get, especially when they found out that she’d been fine and at a house party all this time. “Ye are quite right.”
Jaime sprung to her feet with such ease that it caused Giselle a flicker of jealousy. “I shall see about the arrangements for card tables. After all, I am a duchess, and if I want to play cards this evening, cards it will be.”
Giselle laughed. “The funny thing is,
ye’ve no’ a snobbish bone in your body.”
“I know.” Jaime wiggled her brows. “But it is amazing what people will do, knowing my title. Astonishing, really, and quite convenient.”
“Especially for me the last two days.”
Jaime hugged Giselle. “All will be well, my friend. And if it’s no’, we will make it so.”
“I’m so glad we reconnected,” Giselle said, recalling how they’d been good friends before their seasons started. When Jaime’s sister had caused a scandal, Giselle’s mother forbade her from seeing Jaime anymore. The parting had been devastating to them both. Though they snuck in moments alone and tried to exchange letters, most were interceded by Giselle’s mother. It was not until Jaime became a duchess that they’d truly been able to rekindle their friendship in the public eye and without her mother’s scorn. And very irritating how a scandal could be forgotten when someone’s status was elevated within society. Further proof of how artificial all of it was.
“I’m no’ certain what I would have done without ye in my life, Jaime.”
Jaime hugged her again. “’Tis verra much the same for me. I missed ye so much all those years we were apart.”
Until recently, Jaime had been under the impression that it was Giselle who’d been avoiding her. “We’ll no’ let anyone come between our friendship again.”
“Certainly no’.”
Giselle sighed as Jaime left the room, looking forward to an evening with Alec, even if it were only to watch him from across the room. She’d not seen him since the night before, and she tried to ignore that little twinge inside her that bespoke of missing him.
Also, while she wanted the rest of the party to know the decision they’d made—
agreeing to marry one another—she thought it would be best for him to do the announcing, especially because of his mother.
Alec grimaced when he walked into the parlor to find card tables set out for games of vingt-et-un before dinner was served. Throughout the day, he’d tried to avoid Lady Mary. She was becoming a serious pain in the arse. It was clear that she’d made some sort of claim on him to the other women in attendance, as most of them had started to back off—the majority giving her unapproving looks.
