Only a Duke Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 10
The following morning, Isolde washed away the late evening of the night before and gathered her wits to attend her mother’s picnic lunch that was being held on the grounds of their London home.
Isolde padded to the window and pulled back the drapes to see what sort of weather they had for the day. Not a cloud marred the sky, and no tree swayed with any wind. She smiled, happy her mother’s planned daytime outing looked to be a success.
Sometime later, she joined Victoria, who stood in conversation with some friends and their hovering mamas. Raucous laughter caught her attention, and she watched as a few gentlemen partook in a game of lawn bowls, some younger debutantes watching with feigned awe.
Taking a sip of orange and raspberry shrub their delightful cook Mrs. Arthur had made especially for the day, Isolde almost purred with delight at having the citrusy drink once more. How she’d missed it during the summer months when living in Scotland. For some reason, her cook had never been able to reproduce the exact taste Mrs. Arthur could.
Alice came to stand beside her, all beautiful elegance in her pink muslin gown. “There you are. I don’t like to see you standing here alone, not speaking to anyone, so I thought to rectify the deficit.”
She laughed. “You didn’t have to come over here and save me. I’m quite content just listening to everyone, I assure you.” A footman passed with a plate of syllabub, and she took one. “Are you enjoying yourself? I saw you talking to Lady Harsam. Isn’t she a distant relative of our neighbor Lord Arndel?” Alice’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of rouge. “I see the gentleman is also here today.”
Alice shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Isolde didn’t believe that for a moment. “Well, he’s talking to Mama right now. I’m surprised that you have not…and that he keeps looking in your direction, certainly tells me he knows you’re here.”
Alice laughed, but her attention didn’t stray from Isolde, and she realized her little sister had grown up while she was away. Had matured and in no way resembled a ridiculous simpering debutante who so often graced their entertainments.
“Lord Arndel, I’m sure, is well enough, but he’s so quiet and secretive, I’m never able to make out his character.”
“Maybe he’s just shy.” And very handsome, Isolde conceded.
“Perhaps,” Alice said, shrugging. “But I’m not expected to marry before you, so I’m not in a hurry to choose with whom I want to spend the rest of my life.”
“Have you told Mama that?” Isolde grinned, spooning another delicious mouthful of dessert into her mouth.
“Well no, but I’m sure she would be in agreement.” Alice turned to watch their parent who was now all but gushing over Lord Arndel. “I wonder what they’re discussing.”
“Why don’t you go and find out,” Isolde said, trying hard not to smile at her sister, who wished to appear disinterested while clearly the opposite.
Alice checked her gown, and Isolde had a niggling thought that her sister’s marriage wouldn’t be so very far away. Probably was, in fact, closer than any of them thought.
Merrick arrived a little later than was deemed appropriate, and stood for a moment hidden in the library, watching the garden party and wishing he were anywhere but here. He hated to attend events where the invitation had come out of polite courtesy to his standing in Society, and not because they wanted the pleasure of his company.
His wife stood with a group of ladies, tittering over nonsense, no doubt, and blushing over the men who played bowls on the lawns. He gnashed his teeth at his wife’s falseness. Never in his life had he come across someone so callous and fake. Leonora seemed to embody everything that was wicked.
A familiar voice caught his attention, and he spotted Wardoor in discussion with Lord Barkley on the terrace beyond. Merrick frowned, not aware that the two gentlemen were good enough acquaintances to have such a private tête-à-tête. He stood there, debating whether to walk toward the partially open window and listen in on the conversation.
Lord Barkley shook his head, condescension masking his features. “Enough with the benign talk, we have more serious matters to discuss,” his lordship said, cutting off Wardoor’s verbal estimation of the picnic.
Merrick stepped through the doors and joined them. Looking at Wardoor’s all but pulsating tension, he was sure something disastrous was about to take place.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
Wardoor’s eyes flared at his intrusion. “We were just discussing the congenial weather and lovely company.”
“Your friend lies, Your Grace. There are many things I wish to discuss, not that Wardoor is interested in doing so.” Merrick noted Wardoor’s fisted hand, and his interest was piqued. His once friend had never been one to condone violence, but if Barkley didn’t take a care, a bloody nose certainly could come his way.
“Such as?” Wardoor took a sip of his drink, his brow glowing with a sheen of sweat.
Lord Barkley leaned against the balustrade, all cool aloofness, and yet cold calculation swam in his gaze. “Such as, how your finances are coming. My pockets are overflowing with all the IOUs you’ve placed there.”
Merrick noted Wardoor’s ashen face. His lordship’s family was flush with coin, so to owe Barkley money, a lecherous cur on Society, was not a welcome realization. “Why do you owe Barkley anything?”
“I never tolerate vulgarity at garden parties, and your talk of money is surely that, hence—” Wardoor said, taking a step toward the guests on the lawn. “I shall leave you now.” Lord Barkley wrenched Wardoor to a halt. “I need that money, Wardoor. And I need it today…with interest, you understand.”
Wardoor faced them, his eyes wide with humiliation. “What do you mean with interest? That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“There are always variables with gambling, and you played with the wrong type of people, my lord.” Barkley tsk- tsked Wardoor. “It is time to pay the piper.”
“I cannot pay today.” Wardoor looked at Moore as if the duke could save him from himself. “At least give me to the end of next week. I’ll have it by then.”
Barkley smiled. “Very good, my lord, for I’d hate for the lovely, delectable, and let’s not forget, innocent, Lady Isolde Worthingham to find out where you laid your head last night.”
“Do not involve Lady Isolde in this,” Merrick warned, pinning Barkley with a hard stare.
Wardoor pointed his finger at Barkley. “You cannot prove anything. Nor do I believe you even know. You’re not one to remember your own whereabouts on any given night, never mind any others around you.”
“Oh, I know.” Barkley paused. “And does anyone in this Society have to prove anything? Just saying the words to a select few can create a beast that not even a marquess could tame. I would hate to ruin your reputation and your chances of marriage over a pitiful amount of coin.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Wardoor glared.
Barkley laughed “Aye, I would. And if you do not pay, you can kiss a marriage to the rich wallflower good-bye.”
Moore ground his teeth at the reference to Isolde as a wallflower and that she’d be willing to marry Wardoor. Over his dead body. From the first moment he’d known her, she had been a beacon of purity, of kindness, that he’d always strived to replicate. He’d failed miserably, but she had not. Even after all that had happened between them, she was courteous, cool, and amiable around him. It was more than he deserved.
“If you’re so sure of what I do, please enlighten me,” Wardoor demanded, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
Barkley snarled with triumph, and Merrick knew he wouldn’t like what the chap had to say.
“That you’re adventurous behind closed doors. That your taste isn’t limited to the fairer sex. Do you understand me now?”
“I have never…” Wardoor blustered, turning a deep shade of red.
Barkley winked at him, and Merrick’s gut twisted in disgust. Was Barkley right in his assumptions? Wardoor was wild and had a tendency to overindulge in sex and alcohol, but this, his sexuality being brought into question, was not what he’d expected.
“Women, my friend, are not to be trusted, and when blunt is offered, will spread more than their legs when paid handsomely.” Barkley shrugged. “Who knows what story I shall spread about Town if you do not pay up? But know I will ruin you, should you continue to fob me off. I will call in your debts and destroy you both financially and emotionally. No one will want you after I’ve finished with you, my lord.” Wardoor studied the gardens, silent for a moment. “You’ll get your money and soon,” he said, pushing past Merrick and the laughing Barkley.
Merrick pinned Barkley with a hard stare. “How much does he owe?”
“What, are you going to save him, yet again? Even your pockets are not that deep. Wardoor needs a dowry, and he has his hopes set on your past fiancée. After he pays me, he’ll need to marry someone of immense fortune.”
“How much?” he ground out, sick of Barkley’s games. “A thousand pounds, give or take a few pence.”
Hell, Merrick swore to himself. He hadn’t thought it would be so much. He searched for Wardoor in the crowd and spotted him talking to Isolde. Anger thrummed through him that his friend would use her in such a way, after all Merrick had put her through. Damn it, she deserved so much better than this. “You’ll have the money by tomorrow eve. My man of business will meet you at my London home, where you’ll produce and hand over every IOU you have of his lordship’s. Do you understand?”
Barkley nodded. “We have an agreement.”
Merrick watched him leave and was glad of the reprieve. Should Wardoor continue down this road he would ruin himself and his family. As for the assumption that his friend liked more than women to warm his bed, he’d leave that be for now. What the man did in his own time was his own concern, but should it impact on Isolde, he’d make it his, and that was not acceptable.
He walked toward the lawns and fetched a glass of champagne from a passing footman, needing the alcoholic beverage more than ever, before he had it out with Wardoor and got to the bottom of just what the hell the man was about.
He cornered him standing beside the rose garden, small pink blooms still bursting with color. It should’ve been a serene place, yet Wardoor paced along the garden beds, not seeing any of the beauty before him.
“Wardoor,” Merrick said as he came to stand beside him. “What have you got yourself into? What is going on with Barkley?”
Wardoor shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s none of your business, and you should have buggered off the moment you knew the conversation was private.”
“Damn it, man. What are you about losing a thousand pounds to such a fellow? He’s as bad as they come, and you must have known he would threaten you when you could not pay.”
“I was drunk.” He sighed. “I made a mistake.”
Merrick turned toward the gathered guests and spotted Isolde picking out her lunch at the tables decorated with white linens and colorful fruit. “You will not marry Isolde for her money. She deserves better than that.”
Wardoor met his gaze. “And you’re the judge as to what’s best for her? I’m sorry, but when did you become her protector? Was it before you fucked her best friend or after?”
Hot rage flared through him, and Merrick fought not to knock Wardoor on his ass. “This isn’t about me. This is about you courting a woman I care for, to secure your future.” Merrick shook his head, at a loss as to what to say. “And what was Barkley insinuating about your sexuality? Is what he says true?”
“I’m selling Benner House and all the land surrounding the small estate. You do not need to bail me out, so forget about buying those IOUs.”
“Your mother resides there. Where are you going to place her? With you?” Merrick didn’t think any wife would welcome Wardoor’s mother as a permanent houseguest. Cold and with a severing tongue, the woman was a known harridan. “That will not work for a new wife.”
“The property is not entailed, and Mama will have to be content with the dowager house on the family’s main estate or the London townhouse. There is nothing for it. The sale will be finalized by Wednesday next.” Wardoor swallowed. “As to what else you ask, it’s none of your business.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes. “If you do not desire a woman to warm your bed, I would advise you to never marry and allow the estate to go into your cousin’s hand. Although I do not understand the troubles you live with, I do not wish your lifestyle to impact on an innocent woman.” The thought of Isolde being unhappy in her marriage, of sickening with disease because Wardoor couldn’t keep his cock out of whatever took his fancy, made him ill.
“If Isolde agrees to my terms of marriage, there is nothing you can do. Although her money will be welcome, once I sell Benner, her dowry will not be so desperate.”
“You’re right. If Isolde chooses you then there is nothing to be done, but if you’ve told her only half-truths, I will ensure she knows full well who she’s agreed to marry and what type of man you are.”
“Some friend.”
Merrick cringed. He was being no friend at all, but he could not allow Isolde to be unhappy in her future. He’d caused her so much pain, he couldn’t permit any more to trample on her fragile soul. “Yes, I’m married and cannot fight for her as I would wish, and therefore I must step aside. But I will not see her hurt. Not even by the man whom I once viewed as close as a brother.”
He left and headed toward a footman, in need of sustenance of the liquid kind. He caught sight of Isolde laughing at something her sister Lady Alice was saying, her long locks falling out of their style and curling about her lovely neck, her cheeks rosy from the consumption of too much champagne. He took in her beauty, feeling pleasure and loss at the same time. If only he could stroll up to her, take her in his arms, and kiss her senseless. Lose himself in the feel of her warmth, her welcoming embrace, and kisses that used to send his pulse racing.
Shaking his head, he wondered how it was that their lives had turned out the way they had. How, by a series of events not of their doing, a future had been destroyed that should’ve been happy and full of love. Instead, he was stuck in a bad marriage to a woman who loathed him as much as he loathed her, and now, to top it off, he would have to watch the woman he loved marry another. Possibly his best friend.
It wasn’t to be borne.
