Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Violet Hamers

  So, why he was standing by the window, watching them come closer on their horses, he didn’t know. He only knew that the thought was as depressing and anger-inducing as he anticipated it would be.

  Is the Count a comedian? Does he like to make jokes all the time? Why is that every time I see them together, she’s laughing?

  He internalized the jealousy that sprouted in him as they went toward the stables and out of sight. Turning swiftly on his heels, he made his way to the parlor to pour himself a drink. It was still too early in the day to be drinking, but he would excuse himself this time, given the circumstances.

  He had a glass of whiskey in his hand when he heard a knock on the door. He didn’t respond, knowing that whoever it was would peep in anyhow.

  It was James. “Your Grace,” he called.

  “Leave me be, James,” David said, staring into the fire.

  “O-of course, Your Grace. It’s only that someone—”

  “I have no wish to speak to anyone right now.” He knew his tone was scathing and he hoped it would successfully scare his valet—and whoever else had come to speak with him—away. God forbid if it was Lady Pemperton. She might go away for now, but she was bound to come back, probably bearing more great news about Miss Isabel.

  “It’s Lord d’Ylles, Your Grace,” James went on. “And Miss Isabel.”

  He straightened up at that, tensing. If they were both coming to see him then it would only mean one thing…

  “Let them in.”

  James nodded and slipped back through the door. David prepared himself for what was to come. He should have known this would happen soon, should have ensured that he was ready for it. But now that it was about to happen, he wanted nothing more than to throw his glass at the wall in anger.

  The Count entered first, followed by Miss Isabel and her lady’s maid. David watched her as she entered, as she made her way over to the side of the room and sat. She was leaving the conversation to them, merely a bystander to what was about to happen.

  What bothered him the most was how normal she looked. She didn’t look nervous, or anticipating, or excited. If he wasn’t so sure about what was about to happen, he would have thought that he might have overthought everything.

  “Your Grace,” the Count said, sticking out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”

  “It’s a pleasure as well, My Lord,” David said, taking his hand. The handshake was brief and strong and then he was stepping back, closer to the fire.

  “I had hoped we would be able to enjoy each other’s company a little bit more before this,” Lord d’Ylles said. “But we are both so busy that it simply didn’t work out.”

  “You were at the ball at Pemperton Manor, were you not?” David asked him.

  The Count nodded. “That I was. My apologies for not seeing you there, Your Grace. I was so fixated on Miss Isabel that I barely noticed that anyone else was around.”

  David glanced at Miss Isabel to see that she had lowered her head. He couldn’t tell if she was stifling a laugh, hiding a smile, or blushing. It didn’t matter which it was though. They all made him agitated.

  “Ah, I see,” David mumbled.

  The Count cleared his throat. “I’m so excited that I think I should just get to the point, Your Grace. I have asked for Miss Isabel’s hand in marriage and, as her guardian, I ask for your blessing.”

  Again, he looked at Miss Isabel and saw her looking at him. And again, he couldn’t read her. He couldn’t tell if this was what she really wanted to do.

  But the fact that she is here with him must mean that she wants to marry him, does it not? He wouldn’t have been so confident with his proposal otherwise.

  David wished she would let him see her true feelings about this. He wished she would at least let him know if she really wanted to be married to this gentleman, but he knew that was too much to ask for. After spending such a long time hiding her feelings for him, he knew he had no right.

  “Is this what you wish, Miss Isabel?” he asked her, hoping for a miracle.

  Tell me no. Tell me you don’t want to marry him so I have an excuse to kick him out. So I can keep you for a little while longer…

  Miss Isabel blinked once, then nodded. “I have accepted the proposal, Your Grace. But it is up to you.”

  He returned his attention to the waiting Count and said, “Then far be it for me to deny a happy couple. You two may be married.”

  I love you, Miss Isabel. I love you with all my heart.

  But it was clear his heart wasn’t enough because he had just let her go to someone else.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” the Count said excitedly. Then he returned his attention to Miss Isabel who smiled softly at him. They looked wonderful together, he could admit. But she would look wonderful next to anyone. She was beautiful as a rose, brightening the room around her with her smile and her laugh. David hoped Lord d’Ylles knew how lucky he was to have her as his betrothed.

  The emotions he felt in that moment blurred everything around him. David was hardly aware of either of them as they bid him goodbye and left the room. He was barely conscious of the drink he still had in his hand, which he downed in one fell swoop. He barely saw the splinters that went flying when he threw the glass into the fire.

  He was too consumed by the jealousy he felt when he saw them together. He let the anger—at whom, he wasn’t sure—fill him until he could hardly see past the red haze. He wished he could hold on to his love for her, but it was fast growing out of control, battling with all the other emotions he was feeling.

  She will be married soon. She will be on her own. This is what you wanted.

  No matter how many times he chanted it in his head, David couldn’t see past the final stark realization: he lost her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The moment the doors closed behind her, Isabel felt like a piece of her had disappeared. She didn’t focus on the feeling, what with still being in Lord d’Ylles’ presence. She didn’t want to alarm him with her sudden bleakness even though they had just received an acceptance of their betrothal from her guardian. She should be happy right now, not riddled with the yearning to go back inside and ask the Duke why he had done it.

  The Count took her by the hand, steering her away from the door. His eyes glittered with excitement and happiness and Isabel tried to let the sight of it fuel her own. It sparked something, but not much.

  “I think I am the happiest gentleman on earth right now,” he said to her. He held her fingers lightly, as if he was trying his best not to be inappropriate and Isabel had to fight the urge to pull away from it. It wasn’t because she was repulsed by his touch, but because she wanted much more. And if it wasn’t going to be from the gentleman she truly wanted it from, then she would at least like for her betrothed to treat her in that manner instead.

  But he touched her softly, with none of the passion the Duke had when they had been in the gardens, or the first time they had kissed in the drawing room. He was chaste and Isabel didn’t think that he had what it took to enflame that burning ember of need deep within her.

  “As am I, My Lord,” she mumbled, barely focusing on what he was saying. Her attention was on the door of the parlor.

  Am I mistaken or did I hear a crash just now?

  The fact that the Count didn’t react to it made her wonder if she was merely hearing things.

  “You think you might be the happiest gentleman on earth?” he joked.

  Isabel flushed. “Oh, no, I—”

  He chuckled. “It gives me such joy to see your cheeks go red like that. Worry not, my dear. You may not be the happiest gentleman, but you are most certainly the most beautiful lady.”

  As expected, her blush deepened, and she looked away. It warmed her heart to hear such words, though she would have much rather hear them from another person. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  “I think my future wife deserves to know how much I admire her beauty. And in addition to that,” said th
e Count, his voice lilting with interest. “I would also like to attend the theatre with you.”

  Isabel perked up some. “The theatre?”

  “There is an opera that I would very much like to see and I would be honored if you would accompany me.”

  “Of course, My Lord,” Isabel said without hesitation. She’d never been to the Opera House before so the thought of attending put all the other bad thoughts aside. “I would love to. Lord and Lady Pemperton can accompany us.”

  The Count’s grin was from ear to ear, brightening his face. “Wonderful! Then I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night.”

  He squeezed her hand, his smile dimming as his eyes took on something she’d never seen in them before. But before she could decipher it, Lord d’Ylles said, “I think it’s time I took my leave. I will miss you, Miss Isabel.”

  “As will I, My Lord,” she said. At this point, it was becoming too easy to speak to him as if she truly reciprocated his feelings.

  Isabel held her smile until the Count was gone. Then, without stopping to think, she made her way to her chambers, sat on the bed, and stared out the window.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Isabel?” Elisa asked from behind her.

  Isabel nodded, though the word ‘no’ formed on her lips. In truth, she didn’t know if everything was all right. A mixture of feelings mingled within her and she was having a very hard time trying to sort it out.

  On the one hand, she was happy to be betrothed to someone. Soon enough, she would be married and beginning her new life with her husband. She would be starting her family. It would all go the way she always thought her life would go.

  But, she wasn’t in love with the person she would be marrying. The person she was in love with was too much of a coward to admit his true feelings for her and instead, handed her over to another gentleman. As friendly as she could be with the Count, she wondered if she could truly spend the rest of her life with him, if she didn’t feel the same as she did for the Duke.

  Even as she sat in the parlor watching them speak, she had been bombarded with a myriad of emotions. She had felt longing, something she was used to, something she expected. She had felt disappointment, remembering the things the Duke had said after he kissed her in the gardens. But above all, she had felt uneasy knowing that he would say exactly what she hoped he wouldn’t.

  He gave them his blessings, passing her off to someone else. Isabel had hoped that he would say no, that she would finally get a decent look at the feelings she knew he harbored for her, but he didn’t let the mask slip even once.

  Does he truly care for me if he will let me marry someone else so easily?

  “Are you having odd feelings about your betrothal, Miss Isabel?” Elisa asked.

  “Very much so,” Isabel admitted. “I didn’t expect the Duke to say yes.”

  “Why not? Because he doesn’t know the Count very well?”

  Isabel nodded, though that wasn’t what she was thinking at all. “I suppose he’s just eager to see me married.”

  “He truly must be, Miss Isabel,” Elisa said solemnly. “If he would ignore his own feelings for you.”

  Isabel looked at her, eyes wide. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  Elisa’s face hardly moved, save for a very slight crook of her brow as she said, “I have been by your side for a long time, Miss Isabel. I can tell that he harbors the same kind of feelings for you as you did for him.”

  “How can you tell?” Isabel gasped. She had been having a hard time trying to read the Duke so she could hardly believe that someone who didn’t know him as intimately could.

  “Because when he is around you, Miss Isabel, he controls himself much more. Almost as if he’s trying to hold himself back from revealing too much to you. Not to mention the fact that when were in Brighton, he wished to spend all his time with you.”

  “That’s different,” Isabel said turning back to the window. “I was the only company he had. He was simply bored.”

  “And enjoy your company he did.”

  “It doesn’t matter now anyhow,” Isabel said with a shake of her head. “I am now betrothed to someone else. If the Duke truly had feelings for me, he would have stopped it.”

  “Because his duty comes before his heart,” Elisa mumbled. “It is a sad thing, indeed.”

  Silence bled into the room, filling Isabel’s mind with bothersome thoughts.

  “The Count is a nice gentleman,” she murmured.

  “He seems that way,” Elisa responded.

  Isabel hardly heard her. She was only saying it because she needed to convince herself. “He makes me laugh and I feel comfortable with him.”

  “That is also true.”

  “I’ll be happy. It doesn’t matter that I don’t love him. I’ll be happy. Perhaps, I’ll even grow to love him.”

  “It is quite possible.”

  “And I’m happy to be getting married.”

  “As you should be, Miss Isabel.”

  She didn’t realize tears had formed in her eyes until they spilled over her cheeks. She kept her head straight, hoping Elisa wouldn’t see that she was crying, though she wouldn’t be surprised if the other lady could simply tell. She shouldn’t be crying, she knew that much. But she couldn’t help herself. Not now when it felt like everything was finally descending on her.

  All this time, she thought the Duke felt the same as she did, that she merely had to coax it out of him. Now that their chapter was concluding, she realized that she never had him at all.

  Isabel wiped her tears quickly. She refused to cry over him any longer. If he didn’t have the strength to show that he cared for her in that manner, then he simply didn’t deserve to have her. She would no longer give him her tears, her time, or her attention. She would treat him how she should have treated him all along, and focus instead on the life she was going to have now that she was betrothed to Lord d’Ylles.

  But she spent the rest of the time in her room before it was time for dinner. As she made her way down to the dining room, she dreaded seeing the Duke with every inch of her. She didn’t know what it was about him that she didn’t want to see but she knew that it would upset her.

  So, she was pleased to see the Marquess and his wife sitting at the table when she entered. Her smile felt genuine as she approached.

  “I invited them to dinner,” the Duke explained, his gaze steady on her. “I thought it would be nice since we had such big news to share.”

  Isabel stared at him for a moment longer as she took her seat. Despite herself, she studied him, looking for any signs of distress. But he looked fine, if not a little standoffish. He began eating instantly, his gaze on his plate.

  “Big news?” said the Marquess with his brows raised. “You’re leaving us in suspense, Your Grace.”

  “If it is what I think it is, then you two had better get to speaking right now,” Lady Pemperton said strongly, though her tone was laced with childish excitement.

  Isabel fed off the Marchioness’ enthusiasm, letting it fuel her own so she wouldn’t pay too much attention to the Duke who had gone silent. “Lord d’Ylles has asked for my hand in marriage and His Grace has given his blessings.”

  “Oh, goodness!” Lady Pemperton exclaimed. “It finally happened! I didn’t think he would ask so soon!”

  “You knew that he would?”

  “Of course we did,” said Lord Pemperton with his own grin. “Anyone looking at the two of you could tell that the Count was smitten with you. He was bound to ask sooner or later.”

  “How do you feel, dear?” asked Lady Pemperton. She hadn’t touched her food yet in her elation. “Are you excited? Happy?”

  Isabel nodded, though her smile faltered a little. She hoped neither of them saw. She doubted the Duke did since he was paying such keen attention to his meal that it was as if no one else was at the table. “I am, My Lady.”

  “Wonderful! And you, Your Grace? How do you feel about Miss Isabel being betrothed to Count d’Ylles?
”

  They all looked surprised at Lady Pemperton’s sudden question. The Duke frowned. “I am happy, of course,” he said.

  “Lovely,” she said, but her eyes took on a perusing nature as she studied the Duke, before she returned her attention to the Isabel and smiled. “Oh, there are just so many things we need to prepare for now.”

  “Now, now, My Lady,” Lord Pemperton said in a tender tone. “Let’s not get carried away.”

  “When have I ever gotten carried away, My Lord?” Lady Pemperton asked.

  He didn’t hesitate. “With our children when it was their weddings—”