I sabella bit her lip as she lifted another stack of dusty books from the corner of the room, just managing to stifle a sneeze. It was early morning and she had already been awake for some hours, searching for her grandmother's diary. It had proved difficult to find time to search, what with the house party going on, and Isabella had been forced to wait until the early hours of the morning to continue looking for it. Of course, that meant rising early which, after a late evening entertaining their guests, made her extremely tired, but the need to find the diary was pressing. She wanted to escape Gerard and, if she could only find this box and the heirlooms within, then she could make her escape and start again, far away from her stepbrother .
Flicking through the heavy tomes, just in case the diary was there, Isabella let her mind wander to what life could be like in the Americas. She had heard a few things about it, and it sounded like quite a wonderful place, with many opportunities for women, although it would require hard work on her part. She was sad about leaving her home behind, but she would build a new one for herself .
It would be a place where she could start over, never having to worry about marrying and releasing the rest of her fortune. Finding the box would mean that she could live as an independent woman. She might even take on a new name so that Gerard would never be able to trace her. Finally, she would be entirely free from him .
For a moment, a picture of the Duke fell into her mind and Isabella could not help but wonder whether he might be someone she could tell about her ongoing distress. The day they had both walked into the same dressing room had been embarrassing, to say the least, but she had found words tumbling from her mouth without being able to stop them, saying more about her stepbrother than she'd intended. There was something about the man that brought her vulnerability to the fore. He appeared trustworthy and honest, not throwing back glass after glass of liquor as her brother did nor tossing his money around during games of cards .
And the almost kiss in the garden. Isabella sighed. What might have happened had Olivia not come upon them, she wasn’t sure, but she was now longing to have the opportunity to come that close to the Duke once more .
Shaking her head to herself, Isabella lifted up a dusty old trunk and tried not to scream at the sight of three big spiders that immediately crawled for cover. She had become well used to the creatures during her searches, but still was not particularly enamored by the sight of them. Suppressing a shudder, she waited until the spiders had found their way out of sight before reaching into the trunk to lift out yet more books .
This was one of the many rooms she had yet to search, but it proved to be hopeless. She spent another hour looking into old trunks and drawers but found only old clothes and books that belonged in the fire. There were even old accounts from when her father had run into difficulties, which she chose to put back into the deepest, darkest recess of the dusty old trunks. She did not want to be reminded of that time .
The sun was bright now, and Isabella knew it would soon be time to return to her room. It was still early enough for Gerard not to be awake and wandering the corridors, but she did not want to take any chances by lingering for longer than she should. Brushing at her skirts, she bit back a laugh at the dust cloud that rose from them. It was just as well the servants knew not to clean this particular dress on a daily basis, given that she wore it each time she had to search another room. It had marks all over it and probably held more dust than the cloths the maids used to clean .
Perhaps she would ask her maid to give it a thorough beating before she put it on again so that the dust would not cling to her skin as it did this very moment. She was going to have to bathe, which meant cold water in a bowl and a cloth instead of gently steaming water in the large tub. That was something of a luxury according to Gerard and, on top of which, not something that she was willing to ask of her staff, not when they already had so much to do .
Shutting the door quietly, Isabella began to make her way back to her room, barely making a sound as she walked. The house was still and silent, so the last thing she expected was to see the Duke of Carrington step out from the library, closing the door with great care. She paused in her steps, waiting until he saw her before giving him a tense smile of greeting .
"Ah, Miss Marriott," he murmured softly, his eyes traveling the length of her dirty gown. "Good morning ."
Isabella frowned, wondering what on earth he was doing leaving the library at this time of the morning. "Good morning, Your Grace," she said quietly, suddenly very aware, as he turned to face her, that he was only in an open-necked shirt and pantaloons. Heat mounted in her face as she looked away, knowing that she should simply walk past him and return to her room. Being alone like this was not a good idea and yet she couldn’t tear herself away .
“Have you been … cleaning?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow .
"Oh!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand as the sound bounced off the walls. "No, indeed, Your Grace. I was…." Her mouth grew dry as she realized she was going to have to think of some kind of explanation for her appearance, glancing down at her dusty and dirty gown. "I was looking for something," she finished, lamely .
He nodded, his eyebrows meeting as he frowned. “I see,” he said, slowly. “And did you find it ?”
“I – I did,” she stammered, hating that she was being so foolish. “I thank you for your concern, Your Grace. I should go and change .”
“Of course.” He smiled at her, and Isabella felt her legs go weak with a mixture of relief and delight. “And it’s Carrington, remember ?”
“Carrington, yes,” she repeated .
It did not seem that he was about to start questioning her further on what she had been doing, although she could not help but be curious as to why he was out in the hallway. Was he some kind of avid reader ?
“I could not sleep,” he explained, as though reading her mind. “The library was nearby and I thought perhaps a good book might help me pass the next few hours .”
Isabella let her gaze drift to his hands, seeing no evidence of a book. “You did not find something to your liking in my father’s rows of bookshelves, then, Your Gr— Carrington ?”
She looked up at him again, surprised to see him glance away from her, looking a little awkward all of a sudden. He placed his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, looking for all the world like a little boy who had been caught taking something he should not .
“No,” he said, with a slight shrug. “I’m afraid I did not. I found myself growing weary again and so decided to return to my room .”
“I see,” she murmured, not entirely convinced that he was telling her the truth. There was something a little odd about the scenario they currently found themselves in, and Isabella got the feeling that neither of them particularly wanted to share the true reason for being out in the hallway at such an unorthodox hour. Normally at ease around one another, the air this morning was filled with an awkward tension. They looked at each other for a moment before he cleared his throat once more and stepped aside, holding his arm out so that she might pass by him .
“Thank you,” Isabella said, softly, daring a look at him as she walked past .
To her surprise, at the last moment he caught her arm, halting her in her steps. She did not know what to say or what to do, caught by the intensity of his gaze that had caught and held hers, her heart fluttering in her chest. His breath caressed her cheek as she looked up at him, too aware of his open shirt and bare skin. Warmth spread from her core through her limbs as she stood still, aware of how his fingers released their tight grip on her arm and slowly began to caress her as he drew her closer toward him .
She did not know what she was doing, but found her hand reaching up to brush lightly against the bare skin at his collar. She had never touched a man before, not in such an intimate fashion, and the brief dance of her fingers against the hard plains of his chest had her gasping in surprise. Heat
rushed through her, sparking from where her skin touched his .
She heard his breath catch, as though he too felt the same as she and, feeling a little bolder, Isabella ran her fingers under the open collar, her heart quickening in her chest. A strange, unbidden desire to remove his shirt entirely began to wash over her, and, when it became too great, Isabella dropped her hand and tried to step back, only for him to tighten his grip on her other hand. Unable to escape from him, and unable to dampen the raging inferno that was sweeping over her, Isabella was forced to look into his eyes, seeing a deep passion settling there. It was a look of intensity that took her breath away .
“Miss Marriott,” he said, so quietly that she had to strain to hear him, his eyes drifting towards her mouth. “I –” He looked as though he was about to say something more, that he was about to explain something, but instead, he simply leaned down, pulling her into him as his lips descended on hers .
Isabella's eyes closed of their own accord, as she swayed a little unsteadily at the searing heat of his mouth. It was a kiss that was the result of the the longing they had for one another since the moment their eyes locked at the Fitzgeralds’ ball. It was hard, but quick, gone in a moment though enough to overwhelm her. Her eyes remained closed as she savored the moment, her first experience of being kissed devastating her senses. Her body grew still, her heart beating so loudly she was sure the sound echoed around the hallway .
He raised his head briefly, and Isabella blinked up at him, wondering if he was going to speak. As his eyes raked over her face, there was confusion in his expression that surprised her, as though he had not intended to do such a thing. But before she could speak to him of it, his mouth captured hers once more .
There was a fierceness in his kiss that almost brought her to her knees. She leaned back heavily against the wall as he angled his head, his tongue brushing the seam of her mouth. Isabella gasped in shock, her eyes flying open, but her mouth opened to him of its own accord, and his tongue caressed hers in an intimate love play. She felt something stir in her center, and she pressed into him, yearning for more .
His hips ground into hers, and she felt the result of his desire for her. He pushed her back against the wall, his arms on each side of her, trapping her against his body. She felt secure in the frame of his arms, and she reached out to pull him tighter into her – only for the contact to break and quick footsteps begin to echo around the hallway. He was gone .
Isabella opened her eyes slowly, to see the Duke retreat around the corner, without even a backward glance. Blinking, Isabella touched her lower lip carefully, still stunned at what he had done. Why had he left so abruptly? To her, it had been more feeling than she had ever experienced in her life, leaving her with a mix of confused emotions. Perhaps, however, he was a man well used to pressing such affections on a lady, and they meant very little to him – but to leave with such haste still surprised her .
Wandering back to her room, Isabella smiled to herself despite her confusion over his hasty departure. To have had such a wonderful experience was not something she was going to easily forget and she certainly had no regrets over the incident occurring .
“I just hope he was not trying to distract me from what he was doing in the library at this hour,” she said aloud, closing the door of her bedchamber behind her. It felt quite wrong to have such doubts after he had kissed her, but there was something about the Duke that would not stop niggling at her mind. He was an enigma, confusing and mysterious – and, after this particular meeting, Isabella felt sure that there was more to him than met the eye .
10
“A h, my lord duke!”
Bradley stiffened as Gerard Durand greeted him, aware he despised this man more every time he interacted with him. Durand was over-the-top cordial to him, but he had heard the way he spoke to Isabella and the servants, and he knew the man was putting on an act .
“Good afternoon, Durand,” he said, not smiling in return. “I hope you had a pleasant morning .”
“Indeed, indeed,” Durand replied, slapping Bradley on the shoulder as though they were old friends. “And how are you finding my house party, Your Grace? I hope it is to your satisfaction !”
Bradley could not help that his thoughts immediately turned to Isabella, with a stirring in his loins that he forced himself to ignore. He should not have left her as he had, but it was the only way to stop himself from taking things any further .
He cleared his throat. “It is very enjoyable. I thank you for the invitation .”
Durand nodded but kept his eyes on Bradley. "You have been some time away from England, I hear ."
“Not too long,” Bradley replied, a slight warning ringing in his ears. “I went to visit a friend .”
“And where does your friend live ?”
Wondering whether Durand was asking questions to be polite, or for another, more nefarious reason, Bradley chose to be as discreet as possible. “Some distance away, I must confess. I was glad to return to town.” He put a smile on his face, seeing the way that Durand’s eyes glinted with a sudden steely look .
“Well, I do hope that your return to town has been an enjoyable one,” Durand continued, sounding quite sincere. “Have you a lot of business to attend to, or does your steward to look after that ?”
“My stewards are very thorough, indeed,” Bradley answered, with the air of one who was quite at ease. “It means I am able to come and go as I please, although I do enjoy staying on top of all the goes on .”
"I see," Durand murmured, thoughtfully. "I am glad, then, that you could spare the time to join us ."
“Not in the least,” Bradley replied, putting on an icy smile. “I could think of nothing better but to spend a few days in such...,” his eyes roved around the room, picking out Lord Belrose and Lord Rousseau, “interesting company.” Bradley let his gaze settle on Durand once more. “And you, Durand, have you had the opportunity to return to your home country as of late ?
Durand was now frowning, studying Bradley as though he could not quite make him out. Pleased, Bradley’s smile widened just as they were joined by Lord Kenley, however Durand took the opportunity to avoid Bradley’s question and Bradley cursed his friend’s timing .
"Good afternoon, Durand," Alastair said, smiling. "What plans have you for the rest of the day? It is a very fine day, to say the least !"
“It is indeed,” Durand replied, drawing in a breath and settling his shoulders again. “In fact, some of the gentlemen were thinking of going out for a ride.” His brows rose in question as he turned to face Bradley once again. “Would you care to join us ?”
Bradley, thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity to continue his search of the house, appeared to consider it for a moment, before shaking his head. "Alas, I think not. I am a little tired this afternoon and would value the opportunity to spend a few hours resting before this evening's entertainment ."
The dismay on the man’s face was more than obvious, although he shrugged as though he did not mind. “But of course,” he replied, quickly. “My library is at your disposal .”
“I thank you,” Bradley murmured, delighted that he might have the opportunity to search a little more. The ladies would be occupied with their own conversation, which meant that he would not have to worry about bumping into Miss Marriott again .
“And what of you, Lord Kenley?” Durand asked, looking at Alastair. “Might you join us ?”
There was a brief hesitation. Bradley, catching Alastair’s eye, gave him the smallest of nods and, at once, Alastair agreed to go riding with the other gentlemen .
“Wonderful!” Durand exclaimed, sounding quite delighted. “Shall we say in an hour, then ?”
“Of course,” Alastair replied. “I look forward to it.” Waiting until Durand had walked away to greet his other guests, Alastair turned to Bradley with a look of concern on his face. “He seemed very keen for you to join us on the ride, Carrin
gton .”
Bradley could not help but agree, his gaze still on Durand. “Mayhap he is just being friendly,” he said, even though his mind screamed at him that he was quite wrong even to suggest such a thing. “And I have noticed that he watches both myself and Miss Marriott very closely. Perhaps he just wishes me to wed her and is attempting to ingratiate himself to sweeten my affections towards her .”
Bradley walked towards a quieter part of the room to continue the conversation, with Alastair following behind. Alastair turned to face him, surprise on his face. “Affections? You mean, you truly care for Miss Marriott ?”
Realizing that he had slipped up, Bradley shook his head. “No,” he said, firmly, unaware that Miss Marriott was sitting just to his left, slightly hidden behind a large pot plant as she conversed with Lady Olivia. “I do not hold any affections for Miss Marriott .”
Unfortunately for him, Alastair did not look convinced. “Are you quite sure?” he said, in a voice that betrayed his disbelief. “You are very often in her company and –”
“That is just so that I can get close to her stepbrother,” Bradley interrupted, a swipe of his hand dismissing Alastair’s words. “However, she is good company and I find her conversation very interesting, but there is nothing more to it than that. And, it seems to be working. She has imparted a great deal of information that I have found very useful .”
Shaking his head, Alastair sighed heavily. “Be that as it may, I do wish you’d be honest with yourself, Carrington. I am not quite sure that even you believe what you’re saying about the lady. I have never seen you act in such a way before, I am quite sure .”
Bradley grunted, putting his back against the wall and sighing. He was not going to convince Alastair, it seemed, but that did not matter particularly .
He heard a brush of skirts to their left, but turning to look around the plant beside him, he saw no one. He shrugged his shoulders, but couldn’t help the feeling of unease that washed over him .
Once Upon a Duke's Dream Page 7
