The Duke’s Improper Bride

by Paula, Rebecca

  “Perfect,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Hmm.”

  Chapter 8

  Scotland was behind them, and Nora suspected those stolen hours together with Isaac had been a dream. Maybe they were, for her husband had been sweet and kind and caring, but now in London, Isaac seemed just beyond her reach. And their new home, the palatial townhouse known as Ainsley House, was equally prodigious as unwelcoming.

  The footman carried in her trunks, and Nora was introduced to the housekeeper, who had warmly embraced Isaac upon entering the household.

  As Nora stood apart from the jovial chaos, apprehension swept over her. The ceilings of Ainsley House were tall, the paintings and woodwork, dark. It made her feel small, and it made her husband, only a few yards away, feel as if he were worlds away.

  He turned to her and smiled, waving his arm before he bowed. “Welcome home, duchess.”

  She swallowed, the knot in her throat unyielding.

  Perhaps it was she who need to change. This was all an adjustment, that was all it was, she told herself, aiming to quell her nerves.

  Nora bowed her head with a flirtatious smile. “Your Grace.”

  At first, Isaac grinned, then his features settled and something else washed across his face. “Please don’t address me so formally. Your Grace was my father, he was the Duke. I’m his son.”

  Hurt and sadness filled his eyes. “It must be hard,” she said.

  Isaac stared at the floor, scratching his head before he took a few steps and gazed out of the window. Mayfair was magnificent—everything she had read about in novels.

  “He was a good man.”

  “I know,” she said softly, bracing her hand over her middle.

  Nora preferred Scotland. She preferred the bliss they had found in the marriage bed—and beyond. The thought caused her to blush for a moment. Who knew a dining table could be so serviceable beyond hosting dinner? Or the garden bench. Or that one time in the hallway closet.

  He snapped his head up to meet her stare. “He’s not…”

  “I married his son.” She reached for Isaac’s hands and wrapped hers in his. “You’re a good man, Isaac Barnes. And I’ll c-call you whatever you’d like.”

  “Will you kiss me whenever I’d like?”

  “Depends.”

  He drew her closer. “If I ask nicely?”

  “Depends,” she said coyly, nipping her bottom lip.

  Isaac groaned, hauling her against him. “Do that again, Mrs. Barnes.”

  “I like that n-name best.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Even close, the doubt still crept in. They were still strangers, even if they had shared a marriage bed. When did one get to know one’s husband? Was that even possible? Nora doubted her mother knew much about her father. They barely spoke, unless shouting was involved. They excelled in fighting.

  Isaac cradled her face with his warm palm. She could lose herself in those green eyes of his. Endless, reminding her forever and always of Scotland.

  “What’s this crease for?” He tapped the line between her eyes.

  She laughed softly, tugging at the nape of his neck. “It’s rude to point out your w-wife’s flaws.”

  “You’re worried.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “What is there to worry about?”

  With a small sigh, she fell into his embrace. She craved this feeling now that it was a common occurrence. This is what it was like to be loved, and to love another. And yet she hadn’t uttered those words to Isaac.

  “Everything is perfect. And this house, you…”

  He tipped her chin up and forward, slowly nipping at her lips until her worries seemed to lift like the fog on the highlands.

  Isaac Barnes was the sun, letting her live in the warmth of bright light. Nora had smiled and laughed more in the past few weeks than she had most of her life.

  “I’ll show you perfect,” he said, his voice husky. He traced the lines of her face, his lips following. They stumbled backward a few steps, coming to rest against the paneled wall. His hands expertly opened the front of her dress, before he traced the curves of her breasts, her heart hammering against her chest.

  “These are perfect,” he whispered. His fingers dipped below her corset to rub against her nipples, her body to growing warm and anxious. “And here,” he said, removing his hand to trace down her waist to rest between her legs. Even through her skirts, it was shocking. Deliciously shocking.

  Nora bucked her hips, her fingers playing with his hair, when he sank to his knees and lifted her skirts.

  “Isaac?”

  He ran his hands up her thighs, parting her drawers, and placed his mouth on her.

  This had become her favorite shock of all.

  She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

  His tongue worked her, his hands tight on her hips. Pleasure built within her, pulling tighter and tighter at her core. Then his thumb pressed against her, igniting that fire she had been so surprised to know was not dormant within her body.

  Nora came against his mouth, her body shaking before the warmth faded to comfort. Isaac dropped her skirts, licking her off his lips. The sight of it was the single most erotic thing Nora had ever seen. And she was hungry for more, for him.

  That had surprised her too.

  “What we have,” he said, “is perfect, Nora.”

  She knelt, pushing Isaac gently back against the floor, first undoing the falls of his trousers, then reaching in and stroking his cock. She loved the sight of him, the way he watched her touching him. It excited her.

  She crawled over him, positioning herself until he was seated deep inside her. Nora bent down, raising her hips in a slow draw. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips, “perfect, husband mine.”

  * * *

  A week into their life as husband and wife in London, a month into their marriage, and things were anything but perfect.

  Isaac sat as Nora paced the floor of his study, tossing a small bocce ball between her hands.

  “You can’t go looking for Daniel yourself.”

  “You promised me,” she said, stilling before his desk. She leaned her arms on the polished surface, her eyes narrowed. Hell hath no fury like his wife Nora. Even if he did love her for it.

  “I promised I would assist with searching for him, yes.”

  Nora straightened, throwing her arms into the air. “We’ve been in London for a week now, and the search hasn’t begun.”

  He rested his head in his hands. “We’ve been otherwise occupied, dear, if I remember.”

  “Don’t do that to me, Isaac Barnes.” She wagged her finger at him, her brows furrowed. The blush hitting her cheeks didn’t escape him.

  Good.

  He was still more than occupied remembering the past month with his wife as well. The nights, the days, the well, anytime, really.

  Isaac relaxed, tilting his head up to the ceiling, and sighed. It was a fine ceiling; no detail had been spared in this house. His grandfather had had grand taste, and though it was far more palatial than Isaac was comfortable with, it was fitting of a duke. He always had to be fitting of a duke.

  But no one had warned him about duchesses.

  “He’s my friend, Isaac. A dear f-friend, who’s been locked up by his family, and I have had to sit and w-wait for men to help me.”

  When he didn’t answer, she balled her fists. “You’re no better than Stuart.”

  He straightened, her words cutting him.

  “I’m a lot better than Stuart, dear. That wasn’t kind to say.”

  She released the bocce ball, and it rolled at her feet, knocking into his giant mahogany desk. “The truth isn’t m-meant to be kind.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes, her shoulders leaning forward. It was a horrible habit of hers to try to make herself smaller.

  “I’m not saying that I can’t find him, Nora. I’m simply asking
for a few hours to attend to my business first. I’ve been gone and I have stacks of letters. We’ve turned away visits from my steward twice now—”

  She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “I won’t apologize for t-that.”

  He strode around his desk, yanking her into his arms. “No, and you shouldn’t.”

  Isaac gently pushed her back, his hands cupping her shoulders. “My concern is for your wellbeing. It’s dangerous to try to break someone out of an asylum, especially when the family has paid handsomely for him to be stashed away. I can help you and will do so. I’ve already reached out to a few friends of mine.”

  “Have you?”

  “You can throw around that I’m like Stuart, but unlike that sorry excuse for a man, I do follow through with my promises.”

  Nora shivered beneath his touch. Odd.

  “What’s troubling you, love?”

  She shook her head, her face growing pale. “It was unkind of m-me to say. My anger won, and I am sorry for saying s-such a thing when I know it’s not true.”

  “I love you, do you know that?”

  Nora squeezed his hand, bringing it to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.

  Did she feel the same? His chest grew tight as he waited.

  Nora slipped out of his embrace and the moment was gone, Isaac’s disappointment heavy and bitter in his mouth.

  “I have an appointment with the dressmaker. I don’t wish to be late.”

  “Of course,” he said, gesturing with his hand for her to leave. He leaned his back against the desk, his legs stretched and crossed in front of him and his arms settled across his chest.

  Would she ever love him? Or was finding her friend nothing but a bargaining chip? He couldn’t help but feel as if he had been taken advantage of by the girl who spent her mornings hiking mountains in the highlands.

  The beautiful woman that he had been in love with for weeks now.

  He was in far too deep.

  * * *

  “You finally found her, hmm?” Bly Ravensdale entered the front hall of Ainsley House with the same commandeering stride that saw him nicknamed “The Devil.” He shook Isaac’s hand, then slapped him on the back, laughing.

  “Yes, well, it was unexpected.”

  Bly glanced to Nora as she slowly came down the staircase, her head bowed. “Was it?” he whispered.

  “No,” Isaac said with a laugh. “Perhaps not.”

  It might have been happenstance that they had found one another in that faraway place in Scotland, but it was hard to resist falling in love with Nora. Isaac no longer knew what it meant not to love her, and it had only been two months since their vows.

  Whispers around London were rampant, and letters had arrived from his mother, but Isaac and Nora had done their best to keep to themselves. They weren’t ready for the outside world yet.

  Bly’s visit was the first they had even considered. Well, Isaac had entertained the idea. Nora had insisted she wasn’t ready to welcome anyone as the new duchess. The compromise had been a small dinner, just the three of them.

  Isaac’s chest inflate with pride as she approached—his duchess. The odds had been stacked against them, and while they were an unlikely pair, he couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather escort into dinner, and then entertain every evening. And if he were being perfectly honest, it was much more than that. It was having Nora by his side throughout the day, watching as she brushed her hair before bed every evening while humming to herself, or how she grinned as he tugged her into his arms before they drifted off to sleep. And how, in the morning, she was the first person he saw.

  He was no longer a lonely man, and she had come to mean the world to him.

  Bly held out his hand as Isaac introduced the pair. To Bly’s credit, he looked only slightly intimidating with the warm smile spread across his face. Still, Nora retreated into herself. Her smile faltered, her voice shook as she said, “Hello,” and then she clutched Isaac’s arm, holding on as if he were a life raft.

  It was just nerves. Nora would grow accustomed to company. It wasn’t as if she had expected they would always keep to themselves. They were no longer in the highlands, after all. It was the start of the London social season. There were calls to pay, operas to attend to, not to mention the endless parties and dinners.

  “Shall we have dinner?” Isaac asked Bly, hoping to quell any chance of small talk. Otherwise, he feared Nora would find an excuse to miss dinner. He glanced over to his new bride, his heart sinking at her pallor.

  Bly, for once, had the good manners to agree without further comment. Clara had been good for him in more ways than one, it seemed. But secretly, Isaac missed the rough and tumble Bly. This almost-polished for town Bly was far too uncanny.

  As they walked into the dining room, Isaac leaned down to Nora and whispered, “Are you feeling well?”

  She sharply turned her head to glare at him, her eyes full of resentment. But instead of answering, Nora quirked her eyebrow daring Isaac to press further. He didn’t. Nora returned her attention to the lovely table that had been set before them.

  Isaac pulled out her chair and she sat, smiling once at Bly who sat opposite her. Isaac headed the table and nervously grabbed at his wine glass.

  “Hold on,” Bly interjected, raising his glass. “I believe a toast is necessary. Here’s to the happy couple.” He smiled at Nora and Isaac. The three took a drink, then silence fell upon them.

  Soup was laid out, and it wasn’t until Isaac had had several bites that he chanced a look at Nora, who stared down at her bowl. Scarlet tinged her cheeks and creeped up her neck. Heaven above, he felt as if he were a monster forcing her to sit at dinner. But if she were to be his duchess, then dinner parties and social outings would be a part of her life. Surely, she knew this when agreeing to marry him.

  The remainder of dinner lost its chill once Isaac and Bly began catching up on life and the latest news. Nora remained quiet, then excused herself at the end of the third course, simply thanking Bly for visiting before fleeing upstairs.

  Isaac lingered at the foot of the stairs, watching the back of his retreating wife with a deep frown.

  Once out of view, Bly glanced to Isaac, then slapped him on the back. “Cigars?”

  At least he had the sense not to comment on what a total disaster dinner had been.

  Isaac walked to his office with Bly, shutting the door none too quietly. “I—well, thank you for coming for dinner.”

  “She’s shy?”

  “Nora had an accident as a girl and as consequence has a severe stutter. She prefers not to speak when around new people. Or anyone, really…”

  Bly strode to the fireplace and drew a cigar from his coat pocket. He had stopped drinking after marrying Clara and given up chasing the dragon, but cigars were a vice he was unlikely to part with. Isaac didn’t care for them.

  “You told her about your title? That she’ll be a duchess? London will eat her up if she keeps to herself.”

  Isaac sank into his desk chair, burying his face in his hands. “London can wait.”

  “Can you?”

  He sat up, heaving a sigh. “What’s that?”

  “Grembly will call soon, no doubt, and there will be another mission. You’ll be leaving your duchess to the wolves here in London by herself.”

  No, it was London that needed protecting from Nora. Isaac had seen something within Nora lately that gave him a sliver of hope that she would not only prevail, but take society by storm. He would talk to her later, if she would even entertain him. Something told him he was in trouble this evening. There would be a lot of begging on his part. At least he had proven useful with his hands.

  He cracked a brief smile. Last evening in the library, well, who knew a library ladder could be…

  No, not now. There was a reason he had called Bly to dinner in the first place. “Have you found anything on her friend? Any leads at all?”

  Bly’s body was almost too big for the gilded saber
leg chair he sank into opposite the desk. Ainsley House was a mausoleum of what it meant to be a duke. Once Nora was settled, he would see that she had complete say over decorating the house and making it their home instead of a nod to his lineage.

  “I have the names of two asylums, but I’ll tell you this, it won’t be easy. She’ll need to petition for his release. And seeing that his father was the one to put him away so he could avoid being charged with sodomy, I doubt he will be released.”

  If Nora couldn’t handle dinner with Bly, how was she to petition for Daniel’s release?

  “I doubt Nora will accept ‘no’ for an answer.”

  “She should. She shouldn’t be within a mile of those places, Isaac, and you know it. There may be another way to help her friend.”

  “If there is, I can’t think of one.”

  Bly dug into his pocket, drawing out a well-worn deck of cards, and shuffled them as he puffed his cigar. “We could break him out.”

  Isaac levelled him with a glare. “You and I have done a lot of stupid things in the past, but since we both have wives we enjoy—”

  Bly laughed. “Very well, stupid is out. So, you’ve got a title. Use it.”

  “I have no connection to this man. Any judge would tell me to stay out of a private matter. Any good judge.”

  “Do you know any good judges?”

  Isaac narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

  “That we discover where Daniel is being kept, then bribe them to release him. I can see him set up in another city.”

  Isaac rose, striking his palm against the desk. “And to think she had relied on that sorry excuse of a fiancé of hers to help.”

  “I found all sorts of dirt on him too. Lovely man.” Bly titled his head, his face the perfect expression of mocking. “She missed a bullet there.”

  There was only so much Isaac could do, but his hands were tied. Both Daniel and Nora needed his help, but he couldn’t sweep in in save the day either. It would take time. He wished to fulfill the promise he made to his wife. At the time, he hadn’t expected for it to feel like a condition of their marriage. It hadn’t been a marriage of convenience, at least not for him. But after their recent fights, the doubts were tumbling in, nagging nearly every day he now spent with his wife.