The Duke's Reform (4 page)

      'I had thought
there would be longer to make up my mind. I have known him only three weeks as
last year's encounter cannot count. I know I should not hesitate; I shall be a
duchess, have everything I could possibly wish for, but I keep remembering his
anger. I could not marry him, even though I am almost in love with him, if I
believed I should spend my time in fear of what might happen if I upset him.'

      Her aunt settled
herself comfortably on the
chaise longue
before replying. 'There are
things about his past that it is only right I should tell you. He was married
before— this was, like yours, a marriage of convenience, but from all accounts
he came
lo
love his wife and they were content together.'

      'I had no notion
this was to be his second marriage. What happened to his wife?'

      'Rochester was
in London on business, his wife and two small daughters at home in Newcomb when
they were struck down with the sweating fever. All three had died before he
could be sent for.'

     
'How dreadful!
Poor man, to lose all three
like that, and so suddenly too.
Small wonder I detect
a
darkness
in him. This explains a lot to me.' Isobel scrambled up pushing
her hair to one side. 'I shall make him happy, bear him children and make him
forget about the sadness all those years ago.'

      'In which case,
my love, I shall tell your uncle to accept the offer. We are both delighted—
when you came to us I knew you would take, but had no idea it would be
Rochester who offered first.'

      'Is there
anything else you wish to discuss with me, Aunt Laura?'

      Her aunt smiled
and patted the chintz covered seat beside her. 'Sit down, Isobel, there were
one or two things I don't expect your mama told you. Your husband will be
vigorous in his attentions until you are increasing. From that point you will
be left in blessed peace until several weeks after the baby is born. With luck
you will become pregnant the first month— it's what all new wives pray for I am
sure.'

      This was indeed
a strange conversation to be having. Could it be true that what took place
between a man and wife in the privacy of the bedroom was so unpleasant it was
preferable to be permanently with child?

'I hope I am able to provide the
duke with an heir, after all it's why he's marrying me. I am not so naive, Aunt
Laura, to imagine he feels the same way I do. But underneath his reserve I
believe there’s a loving man waiting to be discovered.'

      That night Mary
laid out her newest acquisition; not the usual white that was expected of a
debutante, but a gown of palest green, silk chiffon, the over skirt in
sparkling, silver sarcenet. She was like a princess from a fairytale; although
the neckline was a trifle daring for someone of her age, with her emerald
necklace to fill the expanse of creamy skin, she was less naked. This stunning
item had once been her mother's and was handed to the oldest daughter on her
come out.

      'Mary, do you
think I am doing the right thing?'

      Her
abigail
shook out an invisible crease in the gown before
answering. 'It isn't for me to say, Lady Isobel. If you’re happy then I’m
content also.'

      With this
unsatisfactory reply ringing in her ears Isobel hurried out to join her cousin
who was waiting impatiently in the
parlour
so they
could descend together.

'Pet, damask rose is perfect for
you. I'm so glad you have been allowed to wear colour tonight as well.' She
slipped her arm through her cousin's and twirled her round. 'And when do
you
expect to receive your first offer? Have you decided which of your many
admirers to accept?'

      'La, Isobel. I
have decided not to accept any of them. I wish to have a second season as
it's
so much fun. I’m sure being married could not possibly
be nearly as exciting. Eleanor, now
Mrs
Eleanor
Watson,
was at school with me and she's already a mother and
was only married last summer.'

'Unlike you, my dear cousin, I much
prefer to be in the country and not gallivanting all over

the
place attending balls every night.'

      Petunia's
tinkling laugh echoed along the corridor. 'Fustian, Isobel, and you know it.
You have enjoyed every minute of these past weeks that you've spent with the
most attractive man in London at your side.'

Giggling, Isobel squeezed her
cousin's arm. 'But it will be so much more enjoyable having him all to
myself
in the country.'

      Still laughing
at their daring conversation they arrived pell-mell at the head of the stairs.
Isobel all but tumbled headlong in her effort to stop. Halfway up the staircase
was the gentleman they had been discussing so immodestly. From the amusement in
his eyes she was certain he had overheard. She wished the floor would open and
swallow her. She was scarlet from her toes to the tip of her ears. Petunia
abandoned her and ran past leaving her to face him alone.

      'Lady Isobel, every
night you appear in a different gown and each time you take my breath away. I
apologize for eavesdropping. This was not my intention, I assure you. Come,
sweetheart, I have permission to take you to the library. There is something
most particular I wish to ask you.'

      Unable to do
more than mumble a response she allowed him to guide her down the remaining
stairs and along the wide passageway. The door was standing open, no servants
lurking to overhear. He almost bundled her inside and she heard the door click
shut behind her. Her heart raced. She was about to receive a marriage proposal
from the man of her dreams — so why did she feel so apprehensive?

      Should she find
herself a seat or remain trembling in the centre of the carpet? From what little
she knew of these matters the gentleman was obliged to go down on one knee in
order to ask her that all-important question.

      'My love, do not
look so scared. We both know why you're here and we both know my question is a
formality.' He walked towards her and she was unable to move. Her feet seemed
to be glued to the floor. 'Before I ask you to marry me there's something I
must do.'

      The distance
between them vanished. His arms came around her and she was pulled gently until
she could feel his heat burning through the thin stuff of her evening gown. Her
knees were shaking. She raised her hands to press them on his chest and tilted
her head intending to ask him to release her. She had no opportunity to speak.
His mouth closed over hers in a kiss of such sweetness her fear melted.

      His heart
pounded beneath her fingertips. He was as disturbed as she and this gave her
the courage to respond. Her hands crept up until they were around his neck and
she buried her fingers in his dark hair. It was smooth and silky beneath her
touch; she tugged at the back of his neck to bring him closer to her.

      Then her feet
were dangling free, his arms crushing her close and the pressure of his lips
increased. His tongue ran along her mouth demanding entry to the moist recesses
within. This was too much. She was overwhelmed by what was happening. Her body
was responding to his lovemaking whilst her head was screaming no.

      Suddenly she was
free, but her legs gave way and without his arms to support her she would have
sunk in a pool of green silk at his feet. 'Sweetheart, I beg your
pardon,
I did not mean to frighten you. Here, darling, let
me carry you to the sofa.'

      'No, I am quite
recovered thank you, sir, ' her voice was little more than a whisper but he
took heed and did no more than guide her to the seat.

      'Lady Isobel,
will you do me the
honour
of becoming my wife?'

      Shocked by the
abruptness of his proposal she almost refused. He had not bothered to go down
on one knee, but remained staring down at her as if impatient for an answer.
'Thank you, your
grace,
I shall be delighted to
accept.'

'Excellent. I shall ride down to
Norfolk tomorrow to speak to your father and arrange the settlements. We shall
be married at Newcomb four weeks from today. I shall leave you to organize your
bride clothes. Four weeks is sufficient I hope?'

      Isobel wanted to
tell him it was not nearly enough
time, that
an
engagement of a month was far too short, that she'd hoped to get to know him
better before the marriage took place. It would be a fruitless exercise. She
had better become accustomed to being dictated to. The man she had just agreed
to marry would brook no contradiction to his orders. Had she made a dreadful
mistake?

'I shall be ready in time. Are we to
have a wedding trip, my lord?'

      He cupped her
face and brushed her lips with his own. 'My love, did you not say you were
eager to spend time in the country alone with me?'

      'I did, and
April is the perfect month to spend in Hertfordshire.'
     

      'Come,
sweetheart, give me your hand, there's something I still have to do.'

      Obediently she
held it out and he pushed a betrothal band with a perfect square cut emerald

on
to her ring finger. She gazed down, her eyes
pricked— the ring was perfect. It also exactly matched the necklace she was
wearing. Her hand strayed to her neck and his eyes followed it. Before she
could retreat she was once more within his arms but this time his lips drifted
across her neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

      A strange
languor made her limbs heavy; she relaxed against his arms tipping her head
back to give him access to her breasts. She was released abruptly and her
future husband was standing with his back to her. Was he unwell? Instinctively she
stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

 'Lady Isobel, return to the
drawing-room to give your family the good news. I shall be with you directly.'

      How
inconsiderate— it would look decidedly strange for her to enter without him at
her side.

She sighed and did as she was bid. Probably
best to start learning to follow his dictums. One she was his wife he would
have
complete
authority over her. She prayed he would
not be too authoritative.

*

The next four weeks flew past. Her parents
arrived from Norfolk and her bride clothes were completed. There was no time to
repine,
everyone told her she was the luckiest girl in
the land. As the day for her departure to Hertfordshire drew closer she hoped
her fears were unfounded. Bentley had rarely been alone with her, and then he
left for Newcomb to oversee the preparations for her arrival a week before the
wedding.

      'Mama, I have
scarcely had time to converse with my future husband. We have been acquainted but
a few weeks— how am I going to manage living with a stranger?'

      Her mother shook
her head. 'Isobel, child, you have the rest of your lives to get to know each
other. There is not a woman in town
who
does not envy
you. To be married to a duke who is not in his dotage is good fortune indeed.'

      'We are not to
have a wedding trip, did I tell you?'

      'As you have no
taste for travelling, my dear, I should think you are relieved to be staying
put. Anyway, as he is marrying you to fill his nursery it is far better you
remain in England. I doubt the physicians in other countries are as expert as
our own.'

      No more was said
on the matter and two days before the wedding the baggage carts set off at
first light and Isobel and her family followed after breakfast. There was to be
a celebration ball that night for the most prestigious of his
neighbours
,
then
the next day
there was to be a garden party for the staff and tenants in order to allow them
to pay their respects. A quiet family dinner would follow and then it would be
her wedding day. Her uncle and aunt and her two cousins, Petunia and David, had
accompanied them. David was two years older than Pet, and great fun to be with.
Everything was a lark to him, including the thought of Isobel marrying a duke.

      As the carriage
turned into the drive of Newcomb, Isobel lowered the window and craned out like
an urchin ignoring her mother's demands that she sit down immediately.

      'Look at that
monstrous building— it must have hundreds of rooms. I've never seen anything so
enormous in all my life.'

      'Isobel, sit
down at once. How can you express such a view about your future home? You
should be grateful it is not in the north of England but a mere morning's drive
from Town.'

      'I beg your
pardon, Mama, but the thought of spending the rest of my life here is quite
daunting. It must have a hundred staff to maintain it. How am I going to manage
to run such a place?'

      Her father
frowned and cleared his throat noisily. Hastily she sat down, recognizing the
danger signals. 'Isobel, I am shocked by your disrespect. This place will not
require your intervention; there will be a housekeeper and butler to take care
of things. Your duty is to be a good wife and provide your husband with an heir.'