What a Duke Wants (29 page)

“I really had not thought to attend.”

“Nonsense. The Wimberleys’ is a must. You may fetch me at nine o’clock.”

“I am still in mourning. I attended affairs before the coronation, but only because the king—”

“Double nonsense. He was your uncle, not your father. I do insist, and if I insist then nobody will say otherwise. I may even insist that you dance.”

Chapter 29

I
sabella had thought nothing in her life could ever make her so nervous again.

She had been wrong.

The ballroom was beautiful. A thousand candles glittered along the walls and on high chandeliers. Hundreds of deep apricot roses decorated every surface. Crystal and silver shone on tables, and brocade of pristine white draped elegantly to the floor. The Marquess of Wimberley had spared no expense to make this a ball to remember, not an easy feat little more than a week after the coronation. Isabella was still not sure why he was doing this for her, but he was certainly doing it right.

Only she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted.

Everybody told her that she must take her place in society. Once she had shown the slightest inclination to accept the idea, they had joined forces against her. Masters had told her he could never be happy if he felt that he had kept her from what should rightfully be hers. Clara, his wife, had confirmed his deep regret over Isabella’s disappearance and explained how happy she would be if Isabella had it in her to do this for her brother. Violet had said “nonsense” to that and then told Isabella that she must do it because it was the right thing to do. Lord Peter had simply smiled at his wife and sent a note to his brother the marquess. Before Isabella knew what had happened, the ball had been planned.

Even when she’d told them about Hargrove, they’d showed her nothing but support. She had to admit there had been more than a little anger directed at Hargrove himself. Only Masters had shown any surprise at the nature of his relationship with Lord William. Violet had merely exclaimed, “That explains some things.”

And now she was here.

It was time for her reintroduction to society. She began to wish she had run away after all.

“You look lovely.” Violet came up behind her.

“I must admit it is one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever seen.” Isabella glanced down at the froth of crimson silk. It matched the ring she wore on a long chain about her neck, the ruby hidden by the bodice of her gown. “Are you sure it is appropriate? It seems quite bold. Would it not be better if I were slightly less—less noticeable?”

“The whole point of this ball is for you to be noticed. We want the world to know that you are back among us and that we are proud of you.”

But would they be proud if they knew everything? Not just about Foxworthy and Hargrove, but about Mark? It was the one thing she had not told them. “And you think this is the way to do it? There must be hundreds of questions about where I was the last few years. I am sure that almost nobody believes that I just decided to go back to Dorset for a few years halfway through my first season.”

Violet pursed her lips. “Yes, I cannot deny there was some gossip. Mostly it was at the very beginning. I believe the most popular rumor was that you had eloped with Lord Langdon.”

“Langdon?” It was true she had flirted with him and briefly pondered him as a suitor, but that was before she had gotten to know him. He had never been a serious contender for her affections.

“I know it was a preposterous thought, but I must confess we let the rumor run free for a while. When Langdon appeared, having spent a fortnight fishing, and the gossip was proved wrong, it made it easier to discount any further rumor.”

“And the gossip was proved wrong—I would not have put it past Langdon to let some rumors remain. He always did fancy himself a dashing rake.” It was far better to converse here, at the top of the stairs, than to consider walking down to the ballroom below.

“Well . . .” Violet hesitated, and Isabella turned back to her.

“Well?”

“I am afraid that you are correct, he did not quite discredit all the rumors, and so when you failed to appear some small fragments of gossip remained.”

Isabella did not say anything; she simply stared at her sister.

“Many believe that you ran off to have a child after Masters stopped the elopement. The rumor is that you have been living as widow in some small seaside town and raising the child.” The words flew from Violet’s mouth in flurry.

“A secret baby? And you are just telling me this now?” Isabella could not help chuckling. “They think I left because I was with child? Annie said something about that.” She didn’t know why she found it so funny except that gossip and rumor was supplying her with the one thing she had always wanted and never had.

“That is why it is important that we present you in such style. Wimberley was in complete agreement. Once you are launched and have our support, society will know that this rumor was just as preposterous as all the others.”

“But not nearly as preposterous as the truth,” Isabella felt compelled to add.

Violet laid a gloved hand upon her arm. “There is no need to think about that. It is over. Things are different now.”

That was easy for Violet to say. She had not killed a man. Was Hargrove here? There had been much debate on whether to invite him, but in the end it had been decided it was far better to keep the man in sight. Isabella peered down at the crowd below, entering the ballroom. He had not contacted her since she’d given him the papers. Was he prepared to just let the whole matter rest? Or would he take on not only her, but also her whole family?

She let her eyes focus on the entire crowd. “There are so many people down there. Couldn’t we do something quieter? Perhaps a musicale evening? Nobody ever comes to those.”

“Isn’t this where the conversation started? We want society to see that we are proud of you, that there is nothing mysterious to wonder about. Peter and I faced down rumor and you can too. Here he comes. He will walk you down, and Wimberley will greet you immediately. There will be no room for gossip.”

There was always room for gossip. Still, Isabella fixed a smile on her face and waited for her brother-in-law to join them. After all she been through she would not be cowed by a few of society’s matrons. She tilted her chin up and waited as Lord Peter held out his arm for her.

H
e stopped and stared.

This was why his aunt had insisted he come—and no wonder she’d left his side as soon as they’d entered the room.

Mark had always known Bella was a goddess, but as he watched her descend the stairs on Lord Peter’s arm his breath was taken away. The deep red gown clung to every curve, slipping over her body like a stream over smooth pebbles. No pebble had ever caused his body to react with such vigor, however. Her skin shone like pearls and her hair swooped in a riot of fiery curls.

His gaze moved to her face. She was unhappy. She did not wish to be here. If she could, she would run. It took only the briefest of glances for him to see all that. He’d seen that expression before and she’d always disappeared immediately afterward. He could not afford to let that happen again, not now, not when he’d finally found her.

She stopped a few steps from the bottom, scanning the crowd. He waited for her eyes to fall upon him, but before they could, Lord Peter said something and she turned to him. Her lips froze into a fixed smile. She nodded, but looked no happier. He leaned toward her, whispered. Her mouth relaxed. She said something back.

Mark wished he could hear the words. They did not look like lovers. He had assumed they were not, but it was good to see their body postures reaffirm the fact. He still had not figured out their relationship. All his sources had confirmed that she’d disappeared from Lord Peter’s house just as quickly as she’d arrived. And yet here she was on his arm, acting like she had every right to be there. Although, judging by the whiteness of her knuckles, she was not exactly comfortable.

He tried to remember exactly what Lady Smythe-Burke had said to him. She’d insisted he attend this affair and had brooked no resistance. He’d tried several times to refuse. At first he’d assumed her insistence was another plot to introduce him to marriageable chits. Everyone seemed to think he needed to meet some young thing and start a nursery. He couldn’t deny that the duchy needed an heir, but he’d already decided not to marry now—if ever. And he certainly wasn’t interested in the children that kept being paraded before him. He wanted a wife he could talk to, someone with a little life experience—

Someone like Bella. She might be young, but she understood how the world worked.

His gaze swept over her again as he had the thought. He’d never been bored talking to her—in fact, even in the midst of some activities that normally did not require talk, he’d found himself as intrigued by her thoughts as by her—well, as by any part of her, including those that were capable of stealing his own capacity for speech.

“Never thought I’d see her again—not in decent company at least.” The comment came from his left and he turned to see an older matron, Mrs. Thomas or Thompson, he believed. Her gaze was fastened on Bella and she was whispering loudly to her companion.

He stepped closer.

“I know there was never any proof of the rumor, but it was pretty clear what happened. No young girl disappears back to the country for no reason—and then stays there for years. And I heard she hadn’t been seen about Masters’s estate, no matter what he may have claimed. The girl was clearly led astray, and I am sure she didn’t protest too hard. She is Lady Carrington’s sister and blood does run true. The older sister may have trapped Wimberley’s brother—I was shocked her stomach wasn’t swollen at the wedding. It must be true she’s barren. Probably a good thing given that family’s behavior. Wouldn’t want to risk one of them falling heir to the marquess. The younger sister clearly wasn’t so lucky. I am sure there’s a brat somewhere crying for his mother.”

Mark did not hear the reply to that as his mind strove to make sense of what he had just heard.

Lady Carrington—that would now be Lord Peter’s wife, Wimberley’s sister-in-law. He tried to remember all he had heard about said lady. There had been scandal attached to her name, several husbands and then several lovers. Nothing, however, that had caused society to truly frown on her.

And Masters—that would be Mr. Jonathan Masters. He’d also been involved in some type of scandal a few years back. Mark had been out of London at the time, but he thought there had been cartoons—something about sex and a library. He’d have to inquire further.

But a younger sister? He didn’t remember anything about a younger sibling. And certainly not any scandal. Could Foxworthy’s death have been part of it? He’d done some investigating on his own and knew all the details of the death, and that if ever a man deserved to be murdered it was probably Foxworthy. He’d even heard rumors of a redhead being seen fleeing. That was probably Bella. He still couldn’t imagine her stabbing anyone, however. Why hadn’t she trusted him? He would have helped her, whatever the cost.

“Is that Isabella Masters—the one who eloped with Langdon?” Another whisper came from his other side. Mark could not determine who had spoken.

Isabella Masters. That was who she was. And they certainly weren’t talking about murder. And what did Langdon have to do with it? The man was a pompous dolt. He listened further.

“I do believe it is. She always was a pretty thing. It’s hard to believe she’s had a child, not with that waistline.”

“It’s the red hair—you always hear about redheads.”

“I can’t believe Wimberley invited her—family or not.”

“I heard she’d kiss any man who wanted—and I am not just talking kissing.”

“She had sex in a library—caught right in the midst of it, showing all there was to see.”

“No, that was her brother—Masters. At least he married the woman, not that they ever admitted who she was.”

“She had sex with her brother in the library? Why did nobody tell me?”

The voices continued to swirl around Mark, but his whole focus had shifted to Bella. She still stood on the stairs, frozen. Color drained from her face as the buzz of innuendo reached her. She stepped back, almost tripping on her skirts. Lord Peter moved his hand over hers, holding her tight.

He whispered something. She did not answer.

And then she saw him. Mark felt the jolt as their eyes met. Her mouth opened. Even across the room, Mark could feel the soft breath that escaped between her lips.

Lord Peter said something else in her ear. Still, she made no response. Her eyes stayed locked with Mark’s, begging him for something, but he knew not what.

The entire room seemed locked in the same spell—everybody waiting, but for what?

Would she flee back up the stairs? Would somebody give her a direct cut? And if so, who would be the first? They were a room full of sheep waiting for a shepherd.

Mark started to step forward, then caught himself. He had no standing here.

Wimberley swept across the room, his delicate marchioness by his side. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, held out his hand in greeting to Bella.

She did not take it. She simply stood and stared. Mark willed her to move, willed her to push back her shoulders and proceed, willed her to realize that whatever came next would not be as bad as this moment, this second.

And still she stood.

The crowd did not breathe. Not a word was spoken.

They all waited.

The marchioness held out her hand also, almost trying to force Bella to action.

There was the whisper of words, but even in the silence they could not be heard.

Bella moved her lips, but no sound came out.

If it were not for the bright color of her dress, she would have appeared a ghost.

He started forward again. This situation could not continue. Bella needed him.

A hand came down on his shoulder. He turned. The Duke of Hargrove stood beside him. “I wouldn’t do that. You must remember, you are not a man—you are a duke. A duke cannot risk being involved in scandal. Certainly not with one such as she. Let her family take care of it.”

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but Hargrove’s next words stole his answer. “And wouldn’t it suit your purposes better if she is disgraced? Her family doesn’t even know the half of it, do they?”

“I do not know of what you speak” was the best that Mark’s brain could come up with. He turned back to Bella, ignoring Hargrove, ignoring the man’s cold fury.