Only a Duke Will Do

by Tamara Gill

  “Let me introduce you to my wife.” The viscount gestured to the dark-haired woman accompanying them. “This is Anne, Lady Kinruth, and our good friend, Lady Isolde Worthingham.”

  Isolde shifted in her saddle, her face paling. “We are acquainted.” Her words hardly audible.

  “You are?” The viscount beamed. “Oh, jolly. How wonderful that we all know one another. We shall not have to be so formal. Pray tell us, how do you know each other?”

  “Well, as to that,” Merrick stammered, unable to think of any further words.

  “The duke and I have known each other for some years. He married a former friend of mine, Leonora Hart. Her father was the vicar at Dunsleigh, our estate.”

  Merrick met Isolde’s gaze, and shame washed through him.

  Isolde cast a glance at his son, and Merrick took the opportunity to introduce them to him, selfishly wanting to keep her close by for a little while longer. “This is my son, William, the Marquess of Olson and future Duke of Moore.”

  Isolde’s knuckles turned white about the reins, and her mount shook its head in protest. “Your son? How happy you and the duchess must be.” Ice dripped from her words, and the chill of them struck the center of his heart. but she turned to look at William, and her face softened, reminding him of how she used to look at him. “It’s very nice to meet you, my lord.”

  Merrick cleared his throat, not sure words were possible. Never had he met a truer lady. After all that had passed between them, that she spoke to his son without censure or repulsion doubled his respect for her. His gaze took in every exquisite detail. The green riding attire revealed a figure he had dreamed about for nigh on six years. Even riding sidesaddle, he could see the long length to her legs, remembering that when she was in his arms, her mouth came up to the base of his chin.

  She and I fit together so perfectly.

  All the suppressed desire and love rose within him at seeing her again, and he cleared his throat. He turned to Will and made the appropriate introductions.

  His son bowed slightly in his seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

  The resounding chuckle from Isolde made his heart ache. “The pleasure is all ours, my lord.” Isolde adjusted her seat but didn’t meet Merrick’s eye. “I see you’re out riding, too. Are you having lessons?”

  “I am,” his son replied. “Papa is teaching me.”

  She smiled, and it was as if the sun had come out. For so long he’d lived in darkness with Will being the only beacon of light. Not that he deserved happiness, after what he’d done to Isolde. It was only fitting that he was the laughingstock of London. The only duke in the realm who had a wife who enjoyed everyone else’s company but his own. Not that he cared. From the moment he’d married Leonora, he’d not been able to stomach the lying wench. “I thought it was time he learned to ride in the capital. Today is his first time with his pony in the city.”

  “When the time comes, that is our thought as well. We must teach our children how to go about correctly and safely while in London,” Lord Kinruth said, smiling at his wife.

  Isolde’s horse stomped an impatient hoof to be gone. “Yes, I agree. All children should have lessons.”

  He nodded, smiling as his son trotted down the row with his groom by his side, his little chin lifting in self-pride. How Merrick loved him. Loved him more than he ever thought he would, considering who his mother was. From the time the little swaddled child had been handed to him, moments after the birth, Merrick knew nothing would ever part him from the little soul, not even his mother, who at the time had demanded the figure-ruining monster be removed from her suite.

  “He’s lovely, Your Grace,” the countess said, her smile warm.

  “Thank you.” Merrick didn’t often hear praise for his boy, all due to the lad’s vulgar mother and her antics about town. There was only so much his name could protect, and even some things were too large of a scandal to hide. He looked back at his boy who was now kicking his mount, trying to make it go faster. The little pony’s legs, however, refused to go faster than a trot. “And I fear it won’t be long before he’s demanding a horse instead of a pony.”

  “Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.”

  The earl laughed. “Of course, Lord William. You have our full attention.”

  “Thank you for taking an interest,” Merrick said, swallowing hard. “It’s usually only me who takes the time to teach him such things, and he never gets to show off his learning to others.”

  “We’re in town for some months, and I’m always up for a ride in the park or a drink at Whites, Moore. Do not be a stranger to us,” Lord Kinruth said.

  “I would like that.” And oddly it was true. Since his marriage to Leonora there were few whose company he kept. The ton still invited him to their events where he laughed and drank, as if nothing was amiss—he was a duke, after all—yet there were always the whispers that he’d broken the trust of one of their own. He’d been the worst of men, toward a daughter of a duke, no less. He would never be forgiven, and certainly the ton would never forget.

  “Where is Her Grace, Moore? At home? Looking after the rest of your offspring?” Isolde asked, her face a mask of undivided attention.

  Lord Kinruth and Anne looked on with interest.

  Isolde met his gaze, and again he was struck by the innocent question. “Her Grace is busy about Town and doesn’t ride very often. She is at home.”

  Isolde’s brow rose. “She used to like riding quite a lot. I’m sorry to hear she no longer does.”

  Merrick frowned, unsure if what Isolde was saying coincided with her feelings. He could not read her at all. Not as he used to. He gnashed his teeth. “How long are you in Town, Lady Isolde?”

  “For the Season only. I’ve come down from Scotland.”

  “You were in Scotland this whole time? I thought you may be—” She sent him a warning glance, and he stopped his line of questioning. “Where in Scotland were you staying?”

  Her lips thinned in distaste at his continual questioning. “At Avonmore, my family’s Highland home. Father bequeathed it to me in his will.”

  “Ah yes. I know of it.” The benign talk was enough to make him go insane. Damn it to hell, he wanted her to look at him with something besides hurt and betrayal. What he wouldn’t give to change their past, to make it just as they had planned. What he wouldn’t give to have her forgiveness.

  “Well, as much as I’ve loved our little reunion, we must be on our way. Good day to you, Your Grace.”

  Merrick watched her canter away, Lord Kinruth and his wife bidding him a hasty good-bye before turning to follow Isolde. Her leaving him yet again reminded him of the day her family had bundled her into the carriage and driven away, taking his heart with the equipage.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he mumbled.

  His son gasped. “Daddy, you said a naughty word.”

  He sighed, having been so focused on Isolde he’d not heard his son ride up beside him. “I apologize. That was very bad of me. Now, let’s see if we can get this pony to step into a canter without you kicking the poor beast to death.”

  Chapter Four

  Isolde took a deep calming breath as she rode away from the man who was now her past, but had once been her future. The sight of him again, his fierce dark eyes that gave little away, taunted her emotions. His perfectly straight nose, strong jaw, and chiseled cheeks that showed his aristocratic breeding to perfection were not something she’d thought to see so soon. The disastrous final night they had spent together under the same roof bombarded her mind, and she fought to control her constitution.

  Their time had passed. Best that she place him within that box as well.

  Anne and Lord Kinruth bid good-bye to Merrick but then stopped quickly to converse with another gentleman before joining her. She could see that they’d not known the history between her and Merrick and probably wanted to hear more.

  Anne trotted up to her, her eyes bright with wonder. “I must admit, dearest, I did n
ot realize you and His Grace were so closely connected.”

  “I am heartily delighted you know His Grace so well. We shall be a very merry party this season, once the duchess joins us, of course,” Lord Kinruth said, looking pleased by the turn of events.

  Isolde composed herself enough to answer. “It has been years since I’ve seen the Duke of Moore and his duchess. I think it would be best if we go on as before and not force a friendship that neither of us wish for.”

  Anne nodded. “If that is what you wish, dear, of course we shall not meddle.” Anne looked back at the gentleman from whom they’d just parted. “Now you must let me tell you whom we just ran into. A gentleman acquaintance of ours. Blake Marlborough, Marquess of Wardoor. He’s back from the continent, as he has a home in Paris. He’s here for the Season.”

  Isolde ignored her friend’s shrewd gaze. She had decided to come back to London to try to find a husband. A man who she could trust and have children with. It was only right that her closest friend would try to matchmake. “I know Lord Wardoor. I met him a few years ago at a country dance. I’ll be glad to see him again, but not today.” She fiddled with her reins, not wanting to remember what a good friend Wardoor was to Merrick and that it was, in fact, Wardoor who’d introduced them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I must be off home. I promised Mama a good catch-up today before the Season goes into full swing and we won’t have enough time to breathe, nevertheless gossip.”

  “I understand your wish to spend time with your mama. If you wouldn’t mind, may I send our groom to accompany you? Clayton has promised me a little longer ride today, since it’s to be my last, and I’d hate to have to cut it short.”

  Isolde smiled, happy that her friends would soon be a family. “I don’t mind, and I thank you.” She paused as his lordship beckoned the groom over to them. “Will you be attending Viscount Chudley’s soiree tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “Yes, we will.”

  “I shall see you there then.” Isolde rode toward the gates that led onto Park Lane. The slow trot toward home calmed her nerves. However, seeing Merrick again had taken all the enjoyment out of her day. Now, she wanted nothing more than solitude in the quiet of her room, where she could think. Why could Merrick not have stayed in the country like other married men were wont to do? Once, he used to enjoy the country more than the city. Isolde sighed; she would just have to resign herself to the fact that this Season they would be in each other’s social sphere and would need to make the best of that bad situation.

  Her ruse that her mama wanted to see her was just that, a ruse. Although, upon arriving home, her need for peace was short-lived when her younger sister, Alice, knocked loudly on her bedchamber door before throwing it open and storming inside.

  “Mama said you borrowed her pearl and gold necklace. I wish to have it threaded through my hair tomorrow night. I think it’ll make my light curls more vibrant. What do you think?” Alice frowned. “Is something the matter, Isolde? You’re very pale.”

  Isolde sat up and leaned against the backboard of her bed. “I saw Moore.” Her heart hurt at the mention of his name. Damn it. “His son looks like him.”

  Alice’s shoulders slumped, and she came to sit next to her, kicking off her slippers and getting under the blankets also. How she loved her sisters and their ability to push aside whatever they were doing to comfort those in need. Alice was no different, and probably the most caring of all her siblings. Not just for them, but for the general populace, too.

  “Where did you see him?”

  “In Hyde Park. He was giving his son, William, a riding lesson. He’s a father.” She paused. “Did you know that?”

  Alice took her hand, clasping it tight. “I know it must be hard to see him with a child he adores. And William is such a dear boy. Too bad about his mother.” Her sister paused. “We didn’t tell you about Miss Hart’s pregnancy because we thought it would only hurt you more.”

  The knowledge did hurt. If Isolde could remove her heart and throw it away she would, if only to never feel the constant pain of separation she endured every day she was away from Merrick. “You should have told me, although I can understand why none of you did.” She sighed, thinking about Merrick and all the pain his name wrought on her body. “And be sure not to speak so basely of Her Grace; it’ll not win you any favors in the ton.”

  “I shall say whatever I wish about the duchess,” Alice said, catching her eye. “Miss Hart, Letty, your best friend, is not the woman you once knew, or any of us thought we knew. She’s the talk of the ton, and probably the demimonde as well. I have no doubt Merrick doesn’t know half of what his wife gets up to. And I can’t help but think that’s a good thing.”

  “He’s not Merrick to us anymore. You must call him His Grace or Moore.”

  Alice played with the bedding, pulling at a loose thread. “I have an array of words I’d like to call him, and none of them are those.” She sighed. “Just before Elizabeth was married, we spotted him about Town. Whenever he’d see us at parties or musicales, he always looked to see which of us were present. We could not help but think he was looking for you. I believe he still loves you.”

  Isolde bit her lip, unable to imagine such a thing. He had broken her heart, and for her to move on, she needed it to heal, become complete once more. “Although I believe Merrick may harbor some regret in the way his marriage came about, I believe he is happy. He has a son, an heir whom he seems to adore. The duke and duchess obviously love each other enough to sleep together to create a child.”

  “His Grace, you mean?” Alice grinned.

  Isolde rolled her eyes. “Yes, His Grace.” Although he would always be Merrick to her, not a lofty title or a man who wielded power and influence. Just a man who’d captured her heart and then crushed it in the palm of his hand.

  “And don’t be fooled that they have a sexual relationship. They do not. William is the child created from the night of your intended wedding. I’ve had it from my maid, who’s friends with one of Her Grace’s maids, that they do not share a room, nor are ever together. Leonora has a lover, you know.”

  Isolde met Alice’s gaze, shocked to hear such a tale. “How do you know such things? And I’m not even going to ask how you know about sexual relationships. Have you been reading books from the library again that are not for you?”

  Her sister shrugged. “Those books are most interesting. And I’m telling you only what is common knowledge. In fact, they’re hardly ever seen on amicable terms about Town. I know, just from my own observations, that they look less than pleased when out together at balls and parties.” Alice frowned, thinking for a moment. “The duke and duchess often appear as if they’ve eaten something sour and wish to spit it out.”

  “You shouldn’t gossip.” Isolde jumped out of the bed, walking to the window and looking over the back gardens of their London home, watched the gardener cut pink roses and place them in a basket. Merrick was unhappy in his marriage? It was not something she’d ever wondered about. They were married now, with a child, and no matter what the rumors about Town were, it didn’t change the fact that he’d married another and had carried on with his life. Not like Isolde; she had placed herself firmly on the shelf, content to stay there to repine for all time.

  “I think it’s time that I married and got on with my life. I’ve spent enough hours mourning the loss of the duke. More than he deserved.”

  “What!” Alice was beside her in a moment. “What has brought this on? I just assumed that you would never marry.”

  Despite herself, Isolde laughed. “I’ve decided to find a husband this Season. I want a child of my own, a family that’s all mine. I’ll no longer let myself rot in the wilds of Scotland, pining for a life that never came to be. I think,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat, “that I’m a little lonely.”

  Alice dragged her into a tight hug. “You’re never alone, as we’re always here for you. And you don’t know how glad I am to hear this news. You’re too beautiful,
inside and out, not to be loved and adored. Any gentleman would be mad not to fall in love with you. And you’re the kindest of us all. In fact, I should strive to be more like you.”

  Isolde didn’t feel very kind or charitable at the moment, and the sister Alice described had withered away under jealousy and despondent emotions that served no one. She no longer resembled the carefree, happy woman she’d once been. All thanks to Leonora’s perfidy that had ruined all her hopes. How she wished her life had, in fact, played out just as she and Merrick had wished—she would be happily married and even possibly a mother right at this moment.

  Alice clasped her hand. “I declare, before the end of the Season, that we’ll find someone most suitable and handsome for you to marry. A gentleman who’ll adore and care for you like you’ve never known before.”

  “I’m not concerned about his features, so long as he’s kind and secure. Not someone who’ll say one thing while doing something else.” She read the understanding in her sister’s eyes and shrugged. “I want to be happy and content, not necessarily in love.” Love was for fools and an emotion that caused only heartbreak when given to the wrong man.

  “We want you to be happy, too.” Alice studied the gardens for a moment, a contemplative look on her face. “With His Grace in Town, do you think you’ll be well enough to withstand his presence? I know it must be difficult.”

  A knot formed in her stomach at the thought of seeing Merrick at most of the events they were to attend. The same sphere of friends suddenly seemed very small and select. “I will have to bear it as best I can. Our first meeting is over, and we’re unlikely to be friends, but I shall not cause a scene, if that is what you’re worried about.” She grinned, although inside she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs at the unfairness of it all. “I will try to limit our interactions as much as possible.”