Only a Duke Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 3
Five years later—Avonmore, Scotland
Isolde sat on a large tree stump overlooking Loch Lochy and clasped the latest letter from her family. Today marked the five-year anniversary of living in Scotland. Could it have really been that long since she’d left Dunsleigh for Avonmore after what had happened with Merrick? She pushed the thought of him aside and broke the seal, wanting to hear what everyone had been up to the past month.
Avonmore Estate loomed behind her and gave her comfort, but it wasn’t filled with the sounds of her family, of her sisters bickering, or of discussions over the latest on- dit or a risqué new gown design from France. Her home here was quiet and peaceful, but lonely. Situated on the loch’s shore, Avonmore was a medieval dwelling, made up of large dark gray stone that looked imposing on the green landscape and yet indoors, it was anything but hostile; it was beautiful, comfortable, a home fit for a duke.
Since her arrival, she’d made amendments to its gardens that had softened the home’s harsh exterior, making it less daunting and more appealing to the eye. Her father, God rest his soul, had bestowed it upon her in his will, and she would be forever grateful for the gift. She looked over the loch, marveling at the beauty of the highland country. She would never leave. Scotland was her home now, and she was content. Well…almost.
She looked back to her letter, the latest from her mother, and continued to read. It seemed her brother was coming to visit. She smiled at the thought of her little brother, now the Duke of Penworth. A strutting peacock always came to mind when she thought of him, grand and full of airs over his stature. Bless his heart, she could only laugh at some of the antics he got up to.
He was always such fun when he came to see her, and a tremor of excitement raced through her veins at the thought of someone to talk to. Elizabeth was happy and settled and lived not far from here, only a two days’ carriage ride. Isolde often contemplated going to visit her sister, who also called Scotland home, but with a young son and expecting their second child any moment, she didn’t wish to impose on them too much.
The sound of crunching stone beneath boots snapped her attention behind her. She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket just as her friend Anne, the Countess of Kinruth, came from behind a large bush. Isolde waved in welcome and stood, meeting her along the graveled path.
“Good afternoon, Anne. I didn’t expect to see you so soon, what with you preparing to leave for London.” Isolde noted her friend’s bright eyes and reddened cheeks and wondered what had her in such a hullaballoo.
Anne beamed at her. “Oh, Isolde, I’m so happy, in fact I could boast to being the happiest woman on earth, I’m sure.” Isolde laughed at her friend’s excited natter. “Then don’t leave me in suspense. What has happened?”
“I’m going to have a baby. Clayton and I are pregnant.” Momentarily shocked and not without a pang of jealousy, Isolde nevertheless clasped her friend in a fierce hug. Knowing of Anne’s struggles to have a baby, she prayed for the child to be a boy to continue the family name, but as long as it was healthy and the mother came through the ordeal well, what did it matter?
“I’m so happy for you, dearest. Oh, I’m beyond excited for you both.” She pulled Anne down to sit on a nearby stone bench. “Clayton must be so pleased.”
“He’s very happy. And with us traveling to London, this news has come at a good time.”
“Do you think you will be back here for the birth or will you stay in Town for your confinement?”
Isolde desperately wanted her to return, but Avonmore, like Anne’s estate, was some distance from Society, from everything, really. It would be safer if they remained in Town until after the birth. It was wholly selfish on Isolde’s behalf to wish for her friend to have the babe here, and she chastised herself for even considering it. All that was paramount was Anne’s wellbeing, not her own loneliness.
“I will stay in London at our family home, Kingston House. It is probably best and safest for all concerned, to be near a doctor.” Anne paused in thought and then grasped Isolde’s hand in excitement.
“You must come to Town for the Season, Isolde. I demand it of you. You’re more than welcome to stay with us in London, if you do not wish to stay at your own family’s residence.” Anne’s eyes widened in enthusiasm. “Please say you will come. I’ll not be showing for some months yet. There will be plenty of time to turn a few gentlemen’s attention toward you before I’m locked away to miss all the fun.”
Isolde laughed, gesturing for Anne to walk along the stony loch’s shore. “I’m sorry, dearest, but I cannot. I find London not to my taste these days.” Nor the idea of seeing Merrick again, happily married and flaunting his great escape from her before all of Society. She shook the depressing thought aside, hating herself for still being affected by such a deception. “But you must promise to bring back your little babe so I can spoil him or her rotten. And know that I will miss you both dreadfully while you’re away.”
“And us you, my dear.” Anne rubbed a hand over her still-flat belly. “Are we on for dinner tomorrow night? It’ll be our last before we leave.”
“Of course, and now we can make it a celebratory affair,” Isolde said. “But please ensure your cook does not serve any Scottish delicacy. As much as I love Clayton and his Scottish ancestry, I do not wish to eat boiled pig gut.”
Anne nodded. “I concur.”
Isolde watched her friend as she chattered about the latest on-dit going about Edinburgh, and what fashions were the most popular in London this Season. An overwhelming sense of longing consumed her. Had she married Merrick, she too could’ve had a child by now and been a mother, just as she’d always wished.
She sighed. Perhaps she had paid her penance for being young, naïve, and blind, and it was time she moved on with her life. Allow a gentleman to court her, fuss about her skirts, and propose marriage in a darkened garden, as so many of them did.
Maybe it was time to let go of the past. There was nothing stopping her from traveling to London to enjoy the Season. Only her own reluctance to see her former fiancé, and surely she shouldn’t allow that to prevent her. She’d never been a coward, so to act one now was maddening. It would be easy enough to write her brother and tell him to postpone his travels…
“Anne, I think I’ll change my mind and come with you to London,” she said, making a decision on the spot. “I haven’t seen my family for so long, and with you gone from here, there will be nothing for me to do.”
Her friend clasped her arm, hugging her. “Oh, how wonderful! We’ll go to all the balls and parties and have the most enjoyable time one can have. It’ll be grand.”
“And you won’t mind if I stay at my family’s home in Town? I should probably see them as much as possible before I return to Avonmore.”
“I understand, of course. We shall still see each other as much as we do now.” They continued along the shore until they came across the small path that led back to the house. “I’ll be glad of the company, as Clayton will no doubt make the most of being back in Society and spend much of his time at his club.”
“He’s devoted to you, Anne. I doubt very much you’ll see any less of him than you do now.”
Anne smiled sheepishly. “I suppose you’re right.” She laughed. “Now, you must organize yourself immediately, as there’s no time to lose. We’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow.”
Isolde nodded, deciding to limit what gowns she took and instead purchase a new wardrobe upon arrival in London. “I’ll have my maid start on it right away.” She paused. “And you’re sure Clayton won’t mind me accompanying you about Town.”
“Never! Clayton will be overjoyed you’re coming, truly. He’s forever boasting his neighbor is the Lady Isolde Worthingham.”
Isolde snorted. “Yes, your friend the lady spinster of Scotland. What’s not to boast about?”
Anne’s eyes went wide at her words. “The title of lady spinster of Scotland will soon be forgotten. With your lovely ebony locks and dark emerald eyes, you’re too beautiful. The ton will eat you up like a sweetmeat.”
“Set the ton ablaze? Now that would be worth traveling all those tedious miles to accomplish.” And if Merrick happens to see the flames, then so be it…
Anne all but bounced beside her. “La! The day after tomorrow cannot come soon enough.”
Excitement thrummed through Isolde’s veins. It was time. This diversion was just what she needed. After Leonora’s horrible trick had resulted in Merrick jilting her, she’d locked herself away in Scotland, hoping Society would let her be, and for the most part they had. But even Isolde had to concede that over the past few months she’d been finding it awfully hard to remain at Avonmore, no matter how much she loved the estate.
She longed for company, to see her family, and to socialize. She hadn’t even had a debut like so many of her friends had. After meeting Merrick at a country dance, they had been betrothed within months of that night, and a coming-out hadn’t been necessary. But it was time to face her past, return to town, and possibly find a husband for herself.
“I think now that I’ve decided to go, I agree with you.” The thoughts of balls, of parties, and friends she hadn’t seen in an age, were something to look forward to, and she hadn’t had anything to look forward to in a very long time. And London was big enough that her and Merrick’s paths may never cross, since married men tended to stay in the country.
Or ignore his presence as best as she could if he was gracing Society this year.
The miles to London were tedious and long. By the time the fields had given way to wooden cottages and then the stately stone homes of London, even Isolde’s excitement at seeing her family had waned.
Thoughts of getting out of the jarring vehicle were all that occupied her mind, no matter how much Anne’s enthusiasm hadn’t diminished since the moment they’d set off. Her friend’s mind was on nothing else except what fun they would have, how many parties they would attend, and who they would see. Not to mention, all the baby preparations she was to begin once she made Town and commenced the shopping on Bond Street.
The smells of London, of coal mixed with the polluted waters of the Thames, soon accompanied them in the carriage, removing any hint of the fresh country air they were used to. The stench of rubbish in the streets rose, and Isolde frowned as she watched children play and search through the putrid piles, hating that people had to live in such squalor. She turned, looking at Clayton asleep on Anne’s shoulder, smiling at the fact he could sleep with her constant conversation buzzing in his ear.
As they entered central London, the streets became tree-lined thoroughfares. Children and nannies played in parks amongst the grass verges, and families of the highest echelon went about their business, whatever it may be.
Isolde relaxed into the leather squabs, looking forward to being back amongst Society. For all her talk that she hadn’t missed what had once been her second home, and as much as she loved Avonmore, she had to admit she’d missed London terribly. This sojourn back to Town was just what she needed.
She shut her eyes, remembering the night before her wedding to Merrick, the what-ifs and how her life could have been so different had he not broken her heart. She, too, could’ve had children playing at the parks they now passed, be one of the parents teaching her children to ride a horse and converse appropriately with others.
Even after all this time, how could it hurt so much? Isolde tried to push the pain from her mind as it loomed with its dark clouds and thunderous memories that always left her forlorn and angry. In truth, she hardly remembered what had been said; only images remained in her mind— damaging and hurtful—even though she fought every day to erase them, they remained as vivid as a painting on canvas.
And it was not something she ever wanted to see again. That Merrick had slept with someone else was not her fault. A woman of eighteen, she’d been naïve and blind to his true nature, to a man’s fickle cock. But no longer. Now, she was a woman of three and twenty, past hurts left where they should be—in the past—and a future that loomed as bright as the whitewashed buildings surrounding them.
The carriage rocked to a halt, and Isolde smiled, excitement that she would soon see her family replacing her melancholy. Not a few feet from her were her sisters, her mama, and brother, all waiting for her arrival. Anticipation thrummed through her veins. Yes, coming home was the best choice she’d made in a very long time.
Clayton woke with a start as the door was pulled open by a waiting footman.
“It seems you are home, Lady Isolde.” The Earl of Kinruth jumped onto the cobbled sidewalk and held out his hand to help her step down.
The house in Hanover Square was a large home built in the Georgian style. Double-fronted doors with a lion clasping the knocker between its steel jaws had greeted the family for as long as she remembered. Isolde looked up and smiled at the Worthingham coat of arms that was carved into the stone wall.
Home…
She turned and smiled at her friend, who remained in the carriage. “Thank you again for bringing me to Town. I’ll call tomorrow, and we’ll make plans.”
“It was entirely our pleasure. We love having you with us,” Anne said, smiling.
The front door flew open, and a gaggle of screams and laughter sounded. A lump formed in her throat at hearing her family after such a long absence. Isolde was pulled into fierce hugs from her mother and her sisters, barring Elizabeth, who had remained in Scotland.
“You’re here! Oh, my dearest child. Come, come inside and tell us all your news. We’ve missed you so dreadfully.” Her mama clasped her arm, holding her tight.
Isolde turned back to Anne and the bemused Earl of Kinruth and quickly introduced her family to her northern neighbors, before taking her leave and going inside. The house hadn’t changed; the same servants greeted her, and the same portraits hung where they’d always hung. Nothing had changed except her.
Older and wiser were good things to be, she mused. Well, wiser at least. She didn’t want to be too old just yet. There was a Season to be had and possibly the finding of a husband. She allowed her family to pull her into the parlor where catching-up and gossip reigned supreme, and time held no sway.
Two days later, refreshed from their journey, Isolde and Anne, accompanied by Lord Kinruth, decided on an afternoon ride in the park. Over the past five years, Isolde had taken up the sport, for Scotland held little else for women to do, other than shoot or fish. All of which she’d become quite fond of and accomplished at.
Hyde Park was bustling with carriages. Gentlemen and ladies strolled the graveled drives and grassy meadows. The day was warm, but not hot enough to make the emerald green riding gown she wore uncomfortable. The delightful little hat that sat sloped on her head gave her an air of mystery. Anne loved it, too, and yesterday had demanded that they not leave the milliner without it. Of course, Isolde could not disappoint her friend.
Through the clearing, Isolde could see Rotten Row, and an urge to go faster than the leisurely stroll assailed her. “Anne, I think I may go for a run on the Row. Would you mind?”
Anne shook her head. “You’ll cause a scandal, Isolde. Ladies don’t gallop.”
Isolde grinned. “Perhaps I’ll start a new trend.”
Her friend laughed. “Perhaps you will.” She paused. “We’ll come with you and wait beside the track. We can continue on toward the Broad Walk when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.” Isolde turned her mount toward the track and noted the moment her mare anticipated a run. She’d missed Pace, her beautiful sixteen-hand mare, and riding her again was another delightful homecoming.
The Row was somewhat deserted, a surprise since the park seemed quite busy with the mingling ton. Some distance ahead, two riders raced down the straight. She walked Pace while waiting for their private war of speed to end.
To the side, she could see a father teaching his young son how to sit comfortably in his saddle. She chuckled when she noted how the father led by example. A London dandy came to mind as she watched the man sit proud in his saddle, a superior lift to his chin.
She looked away, but not before catching sight of his profile, outlined in the afternoon sun, and something about the gentleman seemed familiar. Isolde narrowed her eyes, trying to better see him at this distance, but to no avail. She shook the thought aside, supposing it could be one of her brother’s friends whom he’d brought up to Avonmore during one of his trips. Although she couldn’t remember any of them being married or having a child.
Her mare pranced, digging at the ground with her front hoof, her patience running out. She patted her mount’s long neck. “All right, girl, let’s give you a run, shall we?” Isolde sat low in her seat and gave the horse free rein, pushing her into a gallop within seconds.
Pace did not disappoint, strong and fast, and one of her father’s prized possessions, her mare was always a satisfying ride. She coaxed the horse on, gaining speed and laughing as her hair came down about her shoulders, pooling against her back. But, just as she’d hoped, her perfect little hat didn’t move. It had been a fine purchase, after all.
The Row was soon eaten up, and she smiled at the two gentlemen who watched her with awe-inspired features. Both the gentlemen nodded in appreciation when she turned to trot back toward Anne and Clayton.
Isolde laughed, patting the horse once again, promising to do this as much as possible before the Season came to an end. How freeing to have the wind in my hair and speed beneath my feet. And handsome gentlemen smiling at me with appreciative glances.
London is just what I need. Distraction and life.
Merrick looked over his shoulder and toward Rotten Row at the pounding of an approaching horse. His gaze took in the powerful lines of the animal and the small feminine rider atop it.
“Now, William, look at the lady riding that mare.” Merrick pointed toward the track. “Even sitting sidesaddle, see how she is leaning low over the horse’s neck when the horse is galloping.” He looked away from the enchanting sight and caught his son’s eye. “Not that I think you’re ready for such speed, but it doesn’t hurt to see how it is done correctly.”
“I like my horse, Papa. Can we trot?”
He smiled, reaching over and tweaking his little boy’s button nose. His wife thought him mad to teach their son to ride at only four years of age, but had his own father not taken the time to teach him, he wouldn’t be the competent rider he was today. “Very well.”
“Trot, Papa. I want to go fast.”
Merrick laughed. “Are you holding on tight?”
His son nodded, wiggling down in his seat. “Can we show Mother when we go home? I want to show her.”
“We’ll go to her directly, and she will see how accomplished a rider you are.” Not that he imagined Leonora would care to see such a feat from her son. In fact, over the past four years, Merrick had deduced Leonora saw Will as more of a hindrance than the sweet little boy he was. There was no room in her life for children or their hobbies.
William nodded, his eyes bright with excitement at showing his mother. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you.”
Merrick smiled, hiding his unease that it would be a chore to get Leonora to come look. Hating to disappoint the lad, he would do everything in his power to ensure the outing took place, if not today, at least soon.
The sound of a woman’s voice, cooing to her mount as she walked past, made Merrick turn in his saddle. His eyes widened, and he swallowed upon recognizing her. He’d not seen Isolde since her quick trip to Town two years earlier, just before her sister Elizabeth’s elopement with the Earl of Muir. He’d dreamed of hearing her sweet, lilting voice again.
If only one more time.
She looked in his direction, and he realized the moment she recognized him. Like a curtain being pulled across a sunny window, so too did her face shutter to reveal no emotion at all. How he hated himself for hurting her that, even now, five years after his marriage, she loathed him still. Believed him capable of such faithlessness.
“Wonderful ride, Isolde. If only I could join you,” a dark-haired woman said, walking up to Isolde, a gentleman close by her side. Merrick nodded at the gentleman, having known Lord Kinruth since Cambridge.
“Moore,” the viscount said, waving and walking his horse over to him. They shook hands. “It has been too long, my friend. How are you these days?”
“Very well, and yourself?” Unease coiled through Merrick’s blood at the horrified shock written across Isolde’s visage at seeing him again. He couldn’t blame her. The memory of that dreadful night filled him still with disgust and loathing. Years may have passed since then, but it was still as fresh in his memory as if it had happened only yesterday. Isolde’s less-than-pleased countenance at seeing him could only mean that it was a painful wound for her as well.
“Let me introduce you to my wife.” The viscount gestured to the dark-haired woman accompanying them. “This is Anne, Lady Kinruth, and our good friend, Lady Isolde Worthingham.”
Isolde shifted in her saddle, her face paling. “We are acquainted.” Her words hardly audible.
“You are?” The viscount beamed. “Oh, jolly. How wonderful that we all know one another. We shall not have to be so formal. Pray tell us, how do you know each other?”
“Well, as to that,” Merrick stammered, unable to think of any further words.
“The duke and I have known each other for some years. He married a former friend of mine, Leonora Hart. Her father was the vicar at Dunsleigh, our estate.”
Merrick met Isolde’s gaze, and shame washed through him.
Isolde cast a glance at his son, and Merrick took the opportunity to introduce them to him, selfishly wanting to keep her close by for a little while longer. “This is my son, William, the Marquess of Olson and future Duke of Moore.” Isolde’s knuckles turned white about the reins, and her mount shook its head in protest.
“Your son? How happy you and the duchess must be.” Ice dripped from her words, and the chill of them struck the center of his heart. but she turned to look at William, and her face softened, reminding him of how she used to look at him. “It’s very nice to meet you, my lord.”
Merrick cleared his throat, not sure words were possible. Never had he met a truer lady. After all that had passed between them, that she spoke to his son without censure or repulsion doubled his respect for her. His gaze took in every exquisite detail. The green riding attire revealed a figure he had dreamed about for nigh on six years. Even riding sidesaddle, he could see the long length to her legs, remembering that when she was in his arms, her mouth came up to the base of his chin.
She and I fit together so perfectly.
All the suppressed desire and love rose within him at seeing her again, and he cleared his throat. He turned to Will and made the appropriate introductions.
His son bowed slightly in his seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
The resounding chuckle from Isolde made his heart ache. “The pleasure is all ours, my lord.” Isolde adjusted her seat but didn’t meet Merrick’s eye. “I see you’re out riding, too. Are you having lessons?”
“I am,” his son replied. “Papa is teaching me.”
She smiled, and it was as if the sun had come out. For so long he’d lived in darkness with Will being the only beacon of light. Not that he deserved happiness, after what he’d done to Isolde. It was only fitting that he was the laughingstock of London. The only duke in the realm who had a wife who enjoyed everyone else’s company but his own. Not that he cared. From the moment he’d married Leonora, he’d not been able to stomach the lying wench. “I thought it was time he learned to ride in the capital. Today is his first time with his pony in the city.”
“When the time comes, that is our thought as well. We must teach our children how to go about correctly and safely while in London,” Lord Kinruth said, smiling at his wife.
Isolde’s horse stomped an impatient hoof to be gone. “Yes, I agree. All children should have lessons.”
He nodded, smiling as his son trotted down the row with his groom by his side, his little chin lifting in self-pride. How Merrick loved him. Loved him more than he ever thought he would, considering who his mother was. From the time the little swaddled child had been handed to him, moments after the birth, Merrick knew nothing would ever part him from the little soul, not even his mother, who at the time had demanded the figure-ruining monster be removed from her suite.
“He’s lovely, Your Grace,” the countess said, her smile warm.
“Thank you.” Merrick didn’t often hear praise for his boy, all due to the lad’s vulgar mother and her antics about town. There was only so much his name could protect, and even some things were too large of a scandal to hide. He looked back at his boy who was now kicking his mount, trying to make it go faster. The little pony’s legs, however, refused to go faster than a trot. “And I fear it won’t be long before he’s demanding a horse instead of a pony.”
“Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.”
The earl laughed. “Of course, Lord William. You have our full attention.”
“Thank you for taking an interest,” Merrick said, swallowing hard. “It’s usually only me who takes the time to teach him such things, and he never gets to show off his learning to others.”
“We’re in town for some months, and I’m always up for a ride in the park or a drink at Whites, Moore. Do not be a stranger to us,” Lord Kinruth said.
“I would like that.” And oddly it was true. Since his marriage to Leonora there were few whose company he kept. The ton still invited him to their events where he laughed and drank, as if nothing was amiss—he was a duke, after all—yet there were always the whispers that he’d broken the trust of one of their own. He’d been the worst of men, toward a daughter of a duke, no less. He would never be forgiven, and certainly the ton would never forget.
“Where is Her Grace, Moore? At home? Looking after the rest of your offspring?” Isolde asked, her face a mask of undivided attention.
Lord Kinruth and Anne looked on with interest.
Isolde met his gaze, and again he was struck by the innocent question. “Her Grace is busy about Town and doesn’t ride very often. She is at home.”
Isolde’s brow rose. “She used to like riding quite a lot. I’m sorry to hear she no longer does.”
Merrick frowned, unsure if what Isolde was saying coincided with her feelings. He could not read her at all. Not as he used to. He gnashed his teeth. “How long are you in Town, Lady Isolde?”
“For the Season only. I’ve come down from Scotland.”
“You were in Scotland this whole time? I thought you may be—” She sent him a warning glance, and he stopped his line of questioning. “Where in Scotland were you staying?” Her lips thinned in distaste at his continual questioning.
“At Avonmore, my family’s Highland home. Father bequeathed it to me in his will.”
“Ah yes. I know of it.” The benign talk was enough to make him go insane. Damn it to hell, he wanted her to look at him with something besides hurt and betrayal. What he wouldn’t give to change their past, to make it just as they had planned. What he wouldn’t give to have her forgiveness. “Well, as much as I’ve loved our little reunion, we must be on our way. Good day to you, Your Grace.”
Merrick watched her canter away, Lord Kinruth and his wife bidding him a hasty good-bye before turning to follow Isolde. Her leaving him yet again reminded him of the day her family had bundled her into the carriage and driven away, taking his heart with the equipage.
“Damn it all to hell,” he mumbled.
His son gasped. “Daddy, you said a naughty word.”
He sighed, having been so focused on Isolde he’d not heard his son ride up beside him. “I apologize. That was very bad of me. Now, let’s see if we can get this pony to step into a canter without you kicking the poor beast to death.”
