Durand, however, had only recently arrived from France, and from a question to the steward, left Miss Marriott’s home for periods of time. From the conversation at dinner the previous night, he had shown some sympathy to French Emperor, though he was quick to recover. How to prove it, though? Could he find some sort of record of Durand’s whereabouts the night Roger was shot ?
He was also growing frustrated with his attraction go Isabella Marriott. The woman had no idea of what she was doing to him. Every time she smiled, bit her lip, or walked in front of him, he felt an ache in his loins as he desired her more and more. Of course, there was nothing to be done about it. He was not the type of man to have a dalliance with a lady like her and he had no current wish to wed .
He wished, however, he could bed her to get her out of his mind. She was tantalizing him, though quite unknowingly. However, her position being what it was, he resolved to try to push her further from his mind so he could focus on his true purpose. It seemed the fates were against him, however, as every time he tried to distance himself from her, something drew them closer together .
The next morning dawned bright and warm, and Bradley was looking out his window at the gardens when he saw a shape move below his window. He leaned out further, catching a glimpse of Miss Marriott as she made her way around the rose bushes and deeper into the gardens. What was she doing out there at this time of the morning? Most ladies he knew slept much later. Before he could even think of what he was doing, he was dressed and down the stairs, searching for the garden doors. He told himself he was seeking her out for further research into Durand .
When he found the doors, he took his time on the pathway, as if he was making his own random stroll through the garden. When he finally ran into her, he made a show of being surprised to see her .
“Miss Marriott! We must stop running into one another like this,” he said, noticing the faint blush on her cheeks .
“Your Grace,” she said, inclining her head. “I hope you slept well .”
“I tried,” he said with a sigh, as he looked up at her from beneath slanted brows. “My thoughts were preoccupied, however .”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks turning even rosier, which was quite becoming on her .
“You are enchanting,” he said, as he drew closer to her. “I should like to know more about you .”
“There is not much to tell, Your Grace,” she said, looking down at the flowers in the garden bed below her .
“I wish you would call me something other than ‘Your Grace,’” he said. “Perhaps Bradley ?”
“Oh, but I could never,” she replied with a shake of her head. “It would not be right .”
“Carrington, then ?”
“I will try,” she said with a nod, though the color that was so becoming on her remained in her cheeks .
“How long has it been since you lived here as a child ?”
“About six years. My mother passed when I was young, and my father — my father chose to leave to France for business purposes. When I returned two years ago following his death, I took over the house once more. Thankfully the steward had remained, and we had a very small staff looking after its upkeep. It took some work to refurbish to living conditions once more, but I have so enjoyed it .”
“Until your stepbrother returned ?”
“I suppose to some degree, yes. Although I do still have my enjoyments. Like this garden for instance,” she said, as she swept her hand out overtop the beds of colorful flowers and hedges in front of them .
“Do you not have a gardener ?”
“I do, of course. But I enjoy working with him, planning and planting and even weeding when I have the opportunity. I love seeing things grow from nothing. When I returned here, these gardens were completely overrun, and it has been quite satisfying to see them return to their former glory .”
He saw the pride in her face, and understood feeling the rewards of hard work. He spent more time overseeing his estates than most noblemen did — at least, he had been, before he had been called to work with the Foreign Office. He had been proud of what he was doing for his country as well, before his efforts had led to tragedy .
“I must ask, Miss Marriott,” he said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, “What is your brother’s interest in England? Forgive me for asking, but most Frenchmen who come to England do so because they strongly oppose France’s position. Your brother, however, seems to admire Little Boney .”
Her face clouded and closed off to him. “He is not my brother but my stepbrother,” she replied. “I have truly only known him for a few years now. He claims he stays to find a wife and to look after me, although I am far from requiring a chaperone, let alone having someone like him nearby. I have an inkling that he has his eyes on my inheritance, although how he plans to benefit from it, I do not know .”
Bradley nodded, trying to focus on her words, though he was having a hard time concentrating. They had stopped walking and now were far in the recesses of the garden, hidden from the house by the hedges and trees between them. She was close to him now, her head bent over the plants below her. Whether she was studying them or hiding her face, he wasn’t sure .
He reached down and grasped her chin with his finger and thumb. He tilted her face up toward his, and he saw her eyes widen in astonishment. He bent his head down toward her, eager to place a kiss on those lips that tempted him so. She half closed her eyes as she leaned in towards him, accepting the unspoken invitation. He leaned down —
“Isabella!”
The voice cut through the air, breaking the spell that had caught hold of both of them. Isabella took a step back, as she looked around for the source of the voice .
“It’s Olivia,” she said, somewhat apologetically. “We were to meet in the gardens this morning and I’m afraid I had quite forgotten. Thank you for the walk, Your Grace. Ah — Carrington. Good day .”
And with that, she turned and ran as if being chased. Bradley smiled until he realized his infatuation with her had, once again, completely taken him off course. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. This would never do .
8
I sabella was quite pleased that the following afternoon an outing was planned for both the men and women, allowing them all the opportunity for a respite from the house. She loved the outdoors, but it was difficult to find time away when she was expected to entertain the women who were staying with them. They were not far from London, but despite the fact the house party was being held by Isabella and Gerard, who were not particularly high in society, the guests were intrigued by the fact the mysteriously aloof Duke of Carrington was attending. It was rare he attended gatherings such as this, and so drew the crowd .
They planned to ride through the woodland close to Isabella’s home that afternoon, a bit of a tour for those who had never seen the property before. While small, Isabella was proud of it, though Gerard was quick to play the host .
The party gathered at the stables — all who were joining that afternoon, with the exception of Olivia. Knowing her friend and her propensity for lateness, Isabella urged the rest of them to continue on as she waited for her. Minutes later, Olivia arrived, holding onto her bonnet as she flew from the house .
“My goodness, Isabella, I am truly sorry! My maid could not find my riding habit until much too late, and by the time she had it ready it was —”
“Don’t fret,” Isabella responded, placing a hand on her arm to calm her. “We shall catch up to the rest of them. And, it should give us time away from the others to truly speak our thoughts .”
She gave her friend a warm smile as they mounted their horses and continued on the trail at a trot to catch the others, who would be moving at a much slower pace .
“Isabella,” Olivia began. “No more putting me off. You must tell me what is happening between you and the Duke. Did this begin the night of the ball? Had you met him previously and kept it hidden? Did he come to this party for you ?”
�
�Stop!” Isabella said, laughing, as she attempting to stem Olivia’s flow of words. “There is nothing between me and the Duke, nor will there ever be .”
“Oh?” Olivia raised one eyebrow. “That is not what I would have gathered from what I came upon in the garden .”
“You came upon nothing,” said Isabella, growing serious. “The Duke is … a gentleman, and yes, of course I find him incredibly handsome, as any woman would. He is intelligent and respectful and while serious, he has such quick wit. But he is not for me, Olivia. If he does not know already, he will soon learn of my father’s failed business schemes, and his removal to France. I have told him some of it myself, though was too ashamed to explain the full story .”
“How do you know he does not already know of this ?”
“Would he be speaking to me if he did ?”
“I believe he would. If he is the man you think him to be, then he would not care about your father .”
“He is a duke, Olivia. He should not be interested in any viscount’s daughter, particularly one whose family has found such shame .”
Olivia sighed and shook her head. “Does he bring you joy ?”
“Yes,” Isabella couldn’t lie. “There is something about him that makes me feel at peace, even when Gerard is about .”
“Then you must keep yourself open to what may come. I believe he likely cares for you. He seems to prefer your company over others in the group. Why, last night at dinner he could barely take his eyes off you! Lady Fitzgerald and her daughter seem to be quite put out by you .”
They were coming upon the group in front of them now, and Isabella shushed Olivia. She couldn’t miss the Duke’s tall frame, riding his horse with ease. He was riding beside Lydia Fitzgerald, of course, and Isabella gave Olivia a pointed look. The two of them looked well together, her fair hair and his dark countenance. Their match would make sense, and Isabella suddenly felt like a fool for thinking that the Duke would have any interest in her .
She heard Olivia murmur beside her and she turned to face her. “What is it ?”
“Lord Kenley,” she said with a grin, as Isabella noted her eyes were fixed on the man in question, riding at the edge of the group. “I quite enjoy watching his backside from here .”
“Olivia!” Isabella scolded, but couldn’t keep from laughing. Olivia was quite forward, and her poor mother didn’t know what to do with her, as most young men were put out by her outspoken ways .
The smile left her face as she saw Gerard look back at them from the front of the group, and he circled around to speak with them .
“Lady Olivia,” he said, nodding at Olivia dismissively. The two of them despised one another, and neither kept their dislike hidden. “Isabella,” he addressed her. “Where have you been? I have no idea where I’m going through these terrible woods .”
“You wanted to lead the party,” she replied. “I was simply waiting for one of our guests .”
He gave Olivia a look as if to say that she was not considered much of a guest and that she had inconvenienced the rest of them .
“Well, take over now,” he said as a command. “Or at the very least tell me where to go and what to say to these people .”
Isabella bit her lip to keep back a retort, but not before she noted that the Duke had overheard the exchange as he was riding back toward them .
“Durand,” he said in a stern tone. “Is all well ?”
“Of course,” he said, all smiles now as he turned to the Duke. “I was simply concerned about what had been keeping my sister .”
Olivia rolled her eyes behind his back and Isabella tried to suppress a smile .
“I have no issue with taking the lead,” Isabella said. “Please, follow me .”
She rode to the front of the group and began to explain all that her land had to offer .
* * *
B radley dressed for dinner that night with a multitude of thoughts and emotions running through him. He was pleased that he seemed to be growing closer to Miss Marriott, and had managed to extract some information from her on her stepbrother. He was annoyed with himself, however, at the guilt he felt as he could not keep himself from seeing her as more than a source. He could not seem to stay away from her, and the more he thought of her, the less he was focused on determining whether Durand was involved in Roger’s death .
After getting to know more about the man, he realized he wanted him to be involved, to be the one he was searching for. Durand was the type of man Bradley had never liked. He was a disrespectful bully and was clearly using his stepsister and taking advantage of her situation. He didn’t know how Gerard planned to access Isabella’s fortune if it was tied to her marriage, but clearly something was afoot. Perhaps he had some agreement with a man like Belrose? But if that was the case, why did he seem fine with the fact that he and Isabella were growing closer? It seemed almost as if he had given up on Belrose and was pushing her towards him. It didn’t make any sense. What did Gerard expect from him ?
Lord Fitzgerald had told him more about Isabella’s family during the tour of the grounds, before she had joined the riding party. Bradley had an inkling prior that there was something dishonorable regarding the viscount’s departure to France, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Failed businesses were unfortunate, to be sure, but not nearly as scandalous as what he had assumed it to be. When he questioned Isabella’s inheritance, Fitzgerald had begrudgingly told him that the viscount had found success in France, rebuilding his fortunes there. It had, however, done nothing for his reputation in England .
Fitzgerald seemed to think sharing information about the viscount would keep Bradley from Isabella. It seemed most of the party had noticed a growing closeness between them. He could no longer lie to himself of how much he wanted her. He realized he had, in fact, stopped thinking of her as Miss Marriott, but instead in the familiar, as Isabella. He must ensure he not speak her name out loud .
He knew she had left France and returned to England before her stepbrother. Had it been a planned escape from him, or was there a chance she had she returned to do reconnaissance for the French? He wanted to believe that could never be the case, but she had spent some years there and would have reason to be thankful toward the country due to its acceptance of her father. He hoped he could convince her to trust him enough to share her plans and reasoning with him .
He knocked on the door of Alastair’s room before dinner, in order to have a moment to speak with him alone. The man seemed to be quite enjoying himself. Bradley filled him in on all that he had found out, leaving out additional details of his moments alone with Isabella .
His bedchamber was warm and welcoming, but not as grand as the Duke’s. The furnishings, while well-kept, were beginning to show their age. Bradley’s respect for Miss Marriott grew as he reflected on the work she had put into maintaining her home despite her financial constraints .
“What do you think?” He asked his friend, eager for an unbiased opinion on the woman in question .
“Do I think she could be working for the French?” Alastair asked, as he seated himself in a straight-back mahogany chair across from Bradley, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s possible. However, from what I can tell she and her stepbrother do not get along well, and I would wager it more likely he is the one we are looking for, and he uses her as a front .”
Bradley nodded his head in agreement. “Perhaps you could find out more about Miss Marriott, from someone other than herself .”
“And how might I do that ?”
“Get closer with her friend, Lady Olivia. From what I gather, they have known one another for many years. Perhaps she will provide you with more information .”
“Ah, Lady Olivia,” said Alastair with a wolfish grin. “That, I can do. The woman is a beauty, and a fiery one at that .”
“Perhaps don’t get too close,” Bradley said with a frown in warning. “Her father is an earl himself. I doubt he would appreciate you simply playing with his daughter .”
Alastair raised both hands in the air .
“Understood,” he said. “I may be considered a rake but I am no fool. Come, Carrington, let us go find our ladies .”
Bradley rolled his eyes, questioning his decision on asking for Alastair’s help, and followed his friend out of the room .
He noted that evening that Alastair took particular notice of Lady Olivia, who seemed to be quite pleased with his attentions. They flirted through the meal, and she gave him a little wave after dinner as the ladies retired to the drawing room and the men to the library .
“Did you find out anything of note?” he asked Alastair, as they hung back from the rest of the gentlemen .
“I have found that I quite enjoy Lady Olivia,” said Alastair with a smug look on his face, before taking in his friend’s stern expression. “Fine, fine, Carrington. I did nothing that would reflect poorly on me. I can tell you that Lady Olivia quite despises Durand, and noted that Miss Marriott spends her life trying to avoid her stepbrother. She mentioned that Miss Marriott has no intention to ever return to France, as she has many painful memories there of her stepbrother, as well as the death of her father and stepmother, who was actually not that bad of a woman. Oh, and I did manage to discover that Miss Marriott has not left the area in some time, though her stepbrother is quite well known as a traveler, and the household servants are instructed to hide any ledgers or household information from the man. Is that helpful ?”
“Very much so,” said Bradley with a nod, as he stretched a hand out toward the library. “Now, come, let us see what more we can extract from these men .”
9
Once Upon a Duke's Dream Page 6
