“Oh, hush,” she said quickly. “I won’t do the same this time. Besides, we still have the entire Season ahead of us so there is no need to rush a wedding. We can take our time. What do you think, Your Grace?”
Again, the Duke looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to be included in such a conversation. He nodded absentmindedly and said, “That sounds good, My Lady.”
“Lovely!”
“Lord d’Ylles has asked me to attend an Opera with him and I’ve decided to accept.”
“Oh,” Lady Pemperton swooned slightly. “I haven’t been to the Opera House in such a long time. Do you remember the first time we attended together, My Lord?”
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Lord Pemperton said, placing his hand on top of hers. He looked lovingly at her and Isabel’s heart pained at the sight. She had hoped that she would be able to look back at her husband the way Lady Pemperton was looking at Lord Pemperton. Right now, it didn’t seem possible.
“Of course, we will be there to chaperone,” Lady Pemperton told the Duke. “So there’s no need for you to come along. Unless you want to?”
“Unfortunately, My Lady,” the Duke said, his tone curt. “I don’t think I will be able to make it.”
“Not a problem at all,” Lady Pemperton responded, clearly not bothering to ask for an explanation. Isabel didn’t need one, either. She could tell he simply didn’t want to be anywhere near the newly betrothed couple if he could help it.
Lady Pemperton continued talking, mentioning the past weddings she had a hand in planning, when her children were getting married. Isabel was more focused on the Duke.
He was barely even present, scarfing down his food as if it would get him away from the table sooner. He didn’t look at her once and Isabel tried her best to stop looking at him as well, to focus on the things Lord and Lady Pemperton were saying.
Dinner passed in relative comfort compared to past ones, though. Isabel didn’t think she would have been able to handle sitting with the Duke alone after today’s happenings. She might have only sat there in silence, or asked him things she knew she shouldn’t—things that she would only regret later on.
When it was finally over, the Duke respectfully bid them goodnight and went to his chambers. Isabel followed him with her eyes as he left but then Lady Pemperton offered to continue talking in the drawing room. Isabel said yes only because she’d rather do that than think about what the Duke might be thinking.
Isabel couldn’t help wondering about the Duke’s silence at dinner, wondering if perhaps he was thinking twice about his acceptance.
If he is, will he say something?
She should stop waiting around for him to do something. He had numerous chances that he fumbled and Isabel was no longer going to stick around waiting for him any longer.
“Miss Isabel,” Lady Pemperton said softly, taking her by the hand. The Marquess and the Marchioness just announced their intentions to leave, after spending another hour in the drawing room after dinner, but Lady Pemperton stopped her right before they went through the door. She did it just as Lord Pemperton exited.
“My Lady?”
“There is something I must ask you,” she said to her.
Isabel’s uneasiness rose. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, my dear. You don’t have to worry. I simply wanted to know if you are serious about marrying Lord d’Ylles.”
Isabel frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”’
“I just… want to make sure that you are doing what your heart wants you to do. I hope you aren’t feeling pressured by any one of us to accept his proposal.”
“Of course not, My Lady,” Isabel said quickly. “I haven’t felt pressured by anyone at all. I am happy to be betrothed to the Count.”
“Are you now?” The way Lady Pemperton paused made Isabel feel like she was lying, even though she knew she wasn’t. “Then, that’s good. That’s wonderful.”
Does Lady Pemperton know something? Is that why she’s asking so many questions?
Only another item to add to the list of things she didn’t know and she didn’t feel good about. She headed to bed without being closer to knowing any of them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Something woke her in the middle of the night. When Isabel opened her eyes, she couldn’t decipher any sounds into the silence, and she laid there staring at the black ceiling, wondering if she might have imagined it instead.
But then, she heard it again, a soft bang. Now that she was awake, the sound didn’t seem as sharp to her ears but she shot upright nonetheless, looking at the door as if it would reveal who was on the other side.
All the servants should be asleep. It’s the dead of night. Who could that be? A burglar?
Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach at the thought and she clutched the sheets, not knowing what to do. A myriad of things ran through her mind in that moment—from ducking back underneath the sheets and pretending to be asleep in case they came in, to grabbing the heaviest thing she could find to defend herself with.
Her indecisiveness kept her in the same spot, staring at the door with bated breath waiting for another sound. Finally, she heard one—a man’s voice.
It was merely a whisper, but her fear melted into curiosity. Without stopping to think, she threw the sheets aside and left the bed. She crept up to the door, still listening out for any decisive sign that what she was about to do was an incredibly bad idea, but none came. So, she opened the door just a crack and peeked through.
She saw the frame of a man, his hand braced against the wall. His head hung forward, as if he couldn’t manage to walk any longer and was gathering his strength.
She pushed the door opened much wider. “Your Grace?”
His head shot up at the sound of her voice but he didn’t turn around. Isabel came closer, a mixture of confusion and hope. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something else, but no words came forth.
What in heaven’s name is he doing outside my bedchambers so late at night?
“You should go back inside, Miss Isabel,” the Duke said finally, still not turning around. His voice sounded… odd. It made her step closer.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?”
Isabel couldn’t be entirely sure, but the Duke seemed to flinch at the sound of her voice suddenly so much closer to him. His fingers on the wall tightened into a fist and he turned his head slightly to the side. “I’m fine,” he said slowly. “Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed.”
She ignored his curt words and bridged the last slip of distance between them, realizing suddenly what was so different about his voice. He was slurring.
“Are you drunk, Your Grace?” she asked in alarm when she faced him. He lowered his head the moment she stepped before him but she ducked down just a little to catch a glimpse of him.
“It’s none of your concern,” he tried to say but she was already shaking her head.
“It is my concern!” she exclaimed. “You can hardly stand straight.”
The Duke finally looked up. Isabel went still at the look in his eye. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen such rawness in his face, every inch of that wall fallen to reveal the person underneath. He seemed to want to tell her something, longing in his gaze, his body tense with the urge. But he was holding himself back.
Isabel didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The heat in his gaze held her captive, ridding her of the ability to speak or think straight. Suddenly, she was aware of what was happening. They were alone together, in the dead of night. There were no eyes, shrouded in the semi-darkness of the hallway, with only their unspoken words as company.
“Isabel,” he murmured and he stepped closer. Isabel didn’t move though her heartbeat spiked at the familiar way he said her name. “Isabel.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
He said nothing else. He only acted.
Before she knew it, Isabel had her back pressed against the wall, his li
ps on hers. He already had his fingers winding into her hair and she responded in kind, tugging on his own strands in her need. Now, her mind was truly blank, focusing on what was happening at the moment—kissing him the way she’d always longed to.
Without warning, the Duke’s hands began running down her neck toward her bosom and she gasped in anticipation of it. When his strong hand grasped her breast, she nearly moaned against his lips, unable to believe just how incredible that touch felt.
The Duke tasted like brandy. And with the brandy coursing through his veins, he was much more intense than she’d ever seen him, intent on tasting the skin beneath her nightgown. She was panting when he slipped his hand inside the top of it, his fingers brushing against her peaked nipples.
But he didn’t stop there. His mouth broke away from hers, raining kisses down her neck until it brushed the top of her bosom. Isabel had never felt sensations like these before and she could only stand there and enjoy it in gasping surprise. She watched as his head lowered until his lips covered her nipple. Then she saw nothing, closing her eyes when the erotic feeling rushed throughout her body.
“David,” she gasped, grasping the back of his head.
She felt the exact moment things changed. The Duke went rigid in her hands and his tongue stopped swirling around her nipple. Slowly, he moved his head, and stood, readjusting her nightgown around her shoulders. She tensed.
He’s going to apologize again. I just know it. He’s going to step away from me again.
But he didn’t move nor did he say anything. His gaze was on her chest, but Isabel had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing anything.
“Miss Isabel,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “Do you truly want to be married to the Count?”
She blinked.
How can he ask me such a thing when I’ve been so clear with my feelings? How much more does he need to do something? Why doesn’t he simply tell me that he doesn’t want me to?
Because he wasn’t brave enough to do so. Isabel couldn’t stay next to someone who could only claim her when they were alone.
“Yes,” she said strongly because she knew she had to. Even though the word sounded like poison her lips. “I want to marry the Count. And I will.”
The wall shot back up instantly. All of a sudden, she could no longer see David. Who she saw now was the Duke of Ventbury, ruled by his responsibilities.
He took a shaky step back and nodded. “As you wish, Miss Isabel. Please, have a good night.”
She watched as he tried his best to walk away. He did a good job of it considering he was quite drunk and she was happy he hadn’t left with an apology in his wake.
Without allowing herself to think, she turned and went back into her bedchamber. She didn’t pause at the door, she didn’t listen for the rest of his footsteps, as much as she wanted to. She only crawled back into bed and stared up at the ceiling once more.
Then, she allowed the frustrated thoughts to come until they lulled her to sleep.
* * *
Isabel woke the next day feeling ill-content. At first, she didn’t understand what it was that made her feel so heavy, nor why she felt so uninspired to start the day. She had gone to bed convincing herself that the Duke’s indirect rejection of her was the best thing he could do, since he was saving her from his own cowardly heart.
She was free to do as she wished, to marry a gentleman who would cherish her until the day she died. She had fallen asleep convinced that she would one day forget about the Duke and the time they spent in the hallway would be a memory of the past.
Yet, now, she felt worse than before and she couldn’t understand why.
She was to be married to a wealthy and quite handsome Count that treated her very well. That was every lady’s dream. That had certainly been her dream before she fell in love with the Duke, and she remembered it when she realized that she wouldn’t be fulfilling it with the person her heart truly longed for.
It's about time I get used to the idea. If he doesn’t love me enough to claim me as his own, then he doesn’t truly love me at all.
She had fallen asleep to that thought and had felt comforted knowing that she was making the right decision.
So why do I feel so weird now?
She had decided to miss breakfast this morning. She was sure the Duke would understand why. She didn’t think sitting with him after what happened last night was the best thing for her, so she planned to avoid him as best as she could. At least as long as she could forget the feelings she still harbored for him. At least as long as she could channel those feelings to the Count instead, since now he was the one who truly deserved it.
Behind her, she could tell Elisa was worried.
When will this end?
When would she learn not to focus so much on the Duke? When would she grow out of these feelings? When would her heart grow away from him so she could truly be happy?
As long as he’s here with me, I don’t think I can.
She tried not to sigh. That wasn’t what she wanted. Time and time again, the Duke had showed her how he felt for her.
So why can’t I act accordingly?
“Elisa?” Isabel said, her voice sounding foreign to even her ears. It felt like she hadn’t spoken in ages. “Do you have any idea where His Grace may be right now?”
“Perhaps in his office, Miss Isabel,” Elisa said steadily. There was no surprise in her voice, nor confusion. She wouldn’t be surprised if Elisa already knew what she was planning to do right now.
Which was odd, since Isabel didn’t quite know herself. She wanted—no, needed—to see the Duke, but she didn’t know what she planned to say when she got there. She would decide in the moment.
Without a word, she twirled and left the room, Elisa right on her heels. The more she walked, the more she wanted to run, to get to the Duke as quickly as possible. Whatever it was her heart wanted to say was so urgent that she didn’t think she’d be able to hold it any longer. She felt a pressure rising within her, intensity building with the weight of her unknown words.
When she finally made it to the office, she raised her hand to knock. Her body was thrumming with eagerness and she was surprised to find that she felt hopeful.
Before she got the chance to knock however, she heard voices on the other side. Blinking, she realized that the door wasn’t altogether closed and she froze when she heard the Duke’s voice.
“There is nothing I can do about it, James,” he was saying. “Not anymore. Definitely not now.”
Isabel pieced everything together instantly. The Duke must have called his valet in to vent with him about a matter, or perhaps James had gone in to inform him of something and this conversation ensued. She was about to turn away when she heard her name.
“Miss Isabel is her own person,” the Duke continued. “And if she wants to marry Lord d’Ylles then she can.”
But I want to marry you! I want to have you! You know that!
All of a sudden, she realized why she was here. She had been planning on saying those words to him. Isabel didn’t think she could allow her betrothal to continue until she had said everything that she needed to say to the Duke.
She couldn’t move forward until everything was out in the open.
“Is she aware of how you feel, Your Grace?” asked James.
Isabel waited, tensed.
The Duke took a moment to answer and she wondered what he was doing. If he was pacing the room, or sitting behind his large desk with his hands folded before his face. Both images made her body go hot with hunger.
“I haven’t said anything that would give her that impression, no,” the Duke said at long last and Isabel released the breath she had been holding. “But my actions may say otherwise. I can tell that she suspects it, and that she may want me to act on. But I cannot. She knows that I cannot. I am her guardian.”
“I cannot be with her,” the Duke went on. His voice was laced with determination, with a hint of what Isabel hoped was
distress. “She will be married to the Count d’Ylles and that will be the end of it.”
She didn’t move. She allowed the words to wash over her, to settle within her until she truly understood everything.
James’ voice stopped her in her tracks. “And what of you, Your Grace?”
Within that moment, hope bloomed in her chest once more.
The Duke’s sigh was audible. “I will have to be all right. And as long as she’s happy, I am.”
Isabel didn’t cry. She was surprised by that, expecting the tears to overflow the moment the finality of his words hit home. But her eyes were dry as she steadily walked away from the door. She didn’t go back to her chambers. Instead, she went to the drawing room and sat in the farthest corner, staring out the window.
Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 17
