Only a Duke Will Do by Tamara Gill
Chapter 5
The following evening, as her maid applied the last pins to her hair that was swept up in an abundance of curls with a string of garnets woven throughout, Isolde looked at what she would present to the ton.
The transparent red silk net gown sat perfectly over the ivory dress beneath, and her skin looked flawless. The cut was a little risqué for an unmarried woman, but she was no blushing debutante. Some considered her a woman practically on the shelf.
The tight corset pushed up her breasts but Isolde decided against using a fichu. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by what she wore. What if some of the older matrons looked at her with disapproval? Never again would she hide from their censure. From tonight forward, she would hold her head high and let them talk, should they be shallow enough to gossip over something as trivial as a dress.
She grinned, nodding at her reflection. “I think I’m ready.” Surely she could catch a husband while in Town. If her own merits as a duke’s daughter were not warrant enough, perhaps her ample dowry would sway the reserved fellows. Barring that, her breasts really did show to advantage in this dress.
The ride to Viscount Chudley’s was short due to its close proximity to their home. Carriages lined the road and waited for passengers to disembark for their first of many outings this night. By the time Isolde had reached the ballroom doors, the room was filled to its capacity.
They made their addresses to their host and hostess before slowly progressing into the throng. She recognized scores of acquaintances and paused to speak with many of them. It had been so long since she’d experienced Society, the rush of delight at seeing so many people only reaffirmed that her choice to return to town was the right one.
Her sisters stood sedately beside her, yet their faces were animated and glowing with expectation. She spotted Lord Kinruth waltzing with Anne and smiled when her dear friend waved across the floor.
“Your friend Lady Kinruth seems an affable woman.” Isolde nodded in agreement. “She has such a sweet temperament. I do adore her.”
“So does Lord Kinruth, it seems,” Alice said, watching the pair and smiling.
Isolde couldn’t agree more. She turned to study her younger sisters, their modest jewelry, their gowns—the height of fashion—were beautiful but plain, not that either one needed accessories to heighten their beauty. Both would have suitors coming from every corner of the ball.
“Mama, are there any suitors who I must meet and form an opinion of? Only the best for my siblings.” Alice laughed at Isolde’s words, but Victoria, annoyed at being at a ball and not a hunt out in the middle of the country, merely turned up her nose in distaste.
“Very much so, but the poor dear fellows are too scared to do anything about it. To court a duke’s daughter takes courage, especially a Worthingham who has a protective brother.”
Isolde nodded, understanding only too well how Josh could be toward his own sex, especially when it came to his sisters. And they loved him all the more for it. “In any case, that’s not good enough. It is one thing for me to be on the shelf, but I cannot allow Alice or Victoria to suffer the same fate.” Across the room, she spotted a gaggle of young debutantes surrounded by a bevy of beaus. “Alice and Victoria, go mingle and be merry. Perhaps if you’re not standing beside Mother and me, someone will ask you to dance.”
Her mother grinned, and, with a tinge of jealousy, Isolde watched her sisters move off toward their friends. How nice it would be to have no other cares but to fall in love and be loved. Not trying to forget a pain that, despite her valiant efforts, would not release her heart.
Isolde sighed. Have I made the right choice in coming back to Society? The possibility of seeing Merrick at every event maddened her, yet exhilarated her as well. And it should not. He deserved no mulling over whatsoever.
For all her talk of marriage, even if one of convenience only, it was another thing to go through with it. To say the vows that would bind her to another forever was not something to take lightly. Merrick had been the only man she’d ever loved. Adored, if she was being honest. How could she sleep with another, trust someone enough to give him her hand, after just one Season?
“What is the matter, dear? Please tell me.”
Isolde turned to her mama and took her arm, hugging it to her side. “Nothing, Mama, truly. All will end well. You’ll see.”
“Isolde, look at me.”
At her parent’s steely tone, Isolde met her gaze.
“You must move on. I know we’ve never spoken of the night before your wedding, but there is nothing for you there now. His Grace is married with a child, no matter how they came to be in such a situation. It is what it is.”
That was certainly the truth, but it still didn’t make it any easier. “I know it’s over. But I thought coming back to London would be easy. Yet I’m surrounded by my friends, all of whom are now married and have children of their own, while I’m standing beside my mother at a ball, still looking like some desperate debutante.” Her insecurities raised their pointy daggers. She felt sorry for herself. She hated that. It was not who she wanted to be. A vibrant, outgoing woman who turned heads was who she wanted to be. Not a woman others pitied.
“No daughter of a duke is ever desperate.”
At her mama’s words, she laughed, loving that her mother always spoke straight to the point. “No, I suppose you’re right.”
“I am, dearest, and I think it’s time you started to enjoy what a little age will allow. Enjoy this Season. Take risks. Not scandalous risks, mind, but see where you end up. You may surprise even yourself.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. She had not realized her mother had seen the struggles she faced. As one of the oldest girls, she’d always been the sister who set an example, on her best behavior, with impeccable manners at all times.
She’d failed them, and her years in Scotland hadn’t helped her siblings in the least. “Do you really mean that?”
“I mean everything I say.” Her mother threw her a pointed stare before turning back to the throng. “I see your sisters are about to partake in a quadrille.”
Isolde turned to watch and was so amused by the dancers she didn’t notice the couple who came up beside them.
“Oh, it is. It really is her.”
At the high-pitched squeal, a chill sliced down her spine. It was a very familiar voice that Isolde had fought hard to forget. She turned, shocked to find Merrick and his duchess, who all but hung off his shoulder like a cloak, staring at her. “Your Grace,” Isolde said, nodding in welcome.
“My darling told me you were back in town, but I simply couldn’t believe it until I saw you for myself. Oh, how lovely. How I have missed you.” Although Leonora looked happy enough, her eyes were cold and devoid of any emotion other than annoyance.
Isolde’s mama stepped forward, putting herself a little in front of her. “Your social calendar has kept you active, Your Grace. I doubt very much you’ve thought of my daughter at all, being so busy thinking only of yourself these past five years.”
Isolde’s eyes widened at her mama’s cutting words before warmth bloomed in her heart. Her family was a core of strength for which she’d be forever grateful.
Leonora ignored her mother’s words and pulled Isolde into a most unwelcome embrace. Heat rose on Isolde’s cheeks, and she pushed the duchess away without causing a scene. “It has been a long time, Your Grace.”
Not long enough.
Triumph glistened in Leonora’s eyes, and Isolde’s narrowed. “I’m all the better for seeing you again, my dearest friend. How we’ve missed not seeing you about London. To not have you a part of our life has been like losing a limb. And we have a son now. William is his name. He’s the dearest little boy and will be a wonderful duke one day.”
How had Isolde never noticed how false Leonora was? Without heart or feelings, she must be. Anyone with half a brain would realize that this little reunion was not easy for Isolde, and yet here Leonora was, pushing herself onto Isolde, as if they were still the best of friends. The woman was mad.
“You were always such a good friend to me and His Grace. Please tell us what is new with you.”
Isolde kept her opinion from spilling out on what she thought of her friendship with Leonora. Her mother’s words, “live a little,” spiked a pinch of feistiness into her soul, and she pulled her emotions into check. “I hope you’ve not been pining for me all these years, for I certainly have not been pining for you. I’ve enjoyed my time away from this world.” Isolde bit out the lie with a smile, not willing to let either of them see how much they’d hurt her.
“Weren’t you in Scotland? Dreary, cold clime if ever there was one.” Her Grace ran her hand down Merrick’s arm, and Isolde noted the duke cringed a little under his wife’s touch.
“Yes, I was in the north, but we frequented Edinburgh and traveled a lot. I was not without distraction.” What Isolde said was mostly true. She’d traveled with Anne and her husband, and had had fun with them when they’d attended balls and parties, but there’d always been the constant pain that came with being made a fool in front of all your friends.
Her gaze flicked to Merrick, and she caught him watching her, his eyes a wealth of emotions she no longer had the right to, although she’d learned to read him years ago. Isolde turned back to Her Grace and fought to keep acting the daughter of a duke, not a woman who wanted to scratch her old friend’s eyes out.
“We would’ve visited, but we’ve been so busy here in Town. I simply had no time to spare you. And then we had William, and there is hardly a moment left for a social life, you understand.”
“As I said, Isolde, the duchess is much occupied,” her mama said, taking her arm.
“Of course,” Isolde said, indifferently, “that is to be expected.”
Her Grace let out a loud guffaw, clasping her chest with drama that Isolde hadn’t seen since attending the theater last. “But you don’t understand, do you? A woman of your age, still unmarried and without a babe, wouldn’t know the pressures of Town life and what it is like to raise a child.” Leonora clasped Isolde’s hand, frowning with a falseness that was worth a prize. “Oh, my dearest, how I pity you. You must be desperate to have all that I do.”
Isolde’s blood drained from her face. She looked around the room, sure everyone was listening to the spiteful truth of Her Grace’s words. But instead of fleeing, which she longed to do, Isolde ripped her hand out of Leonora’s clasp and straightened her spine. “As a woman of independent means, I’ll marry when the time is right. Which I suppose is something you do not understand, as you had to marry money or you would’ve had none.”
Her mother covered her laugh with a cough, and Isolde smiled a little. “This Season is going to be so much fun, for me at least.” Isolde refused to meet Merrick’s gaze, which seared her skin. Love may never again be a point she’d look for in a marriage, but trust was paramount. All she required was a pleasant, stable gentleman who’d give her a future and children. She did indeed long for a child of her own. It would certainly make all the past hurts disappear. And she would cherish any man who could make such a dream come true.
Leonora glared at Isolde, her mouth pulling into a thin line of anger. “Of course,” Her Grace said, turning to her husband. “Alas, my husband promised me the waltz, and I do believe it is next.”
Isolde watched them join in with the other couples, sighing when the dance commenced. Her mother watched them also, her visage one of distaste. “Oh my dearest, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. If I had any idea that Her Grace would seek you out, I would’ve tried to keep you from her. What nerve she has.”
Isolde waved away her mother’s concerns. “I’m quite all right, I assure you. I was bound to run into her eventually.” It was done now, and she was stronger for it.
“Ah, I see your brother has arrived.”
Isolde smiled at Josh as he bowed to their hostess, noted their presence, and excused himself to join them. What a dashing brother she had, in his gold waistcoat and shining Hessians. “Good evening, Your Grace,” Isolde said, dipping into a deep curtsy.
He threw her a dubious look. “Josh or brother will do, if you please. I welcome such respect from other peers of the realm, but you, dear sister, need not adhere to those silly strictures of Society.”
Isolde laughed. “Well, thank the good Lord for that. We would hate to stand on ceremony.”
Josh looked her up and down, nodding in approval. “I say, you look very beautiful this evening. Care to accompany me on the floor? There is still time to join the waltz.”
Isolde placed her hand on his arm, only too willing to dance and take her mind off another duke and his wife who occupied the same ballroom. “Thank you for being my knight in shining armor. I thought I’d have to stand by and watch everyone else dance all night.”
He twirled her into position, taking her into his arms with authoritative ease. “I noticed who sought you out, and I couldn’t allow them to leave such a sullen look on your face.” He preened, and a few young ladies behind her sighed and tittered. “And I find dancing always improves one’s countenance…among other things,” he said, looking past her and no doubt at the young ladies behind, throwing them a smolder that would only increase their chatter.
“Stop it,” she hissed.
“What?” His surprised, innocent visage didn’t fool her in the least.
“You’re flirting.”
He scoffed. “Dukes do not flirt.”
The dance continued, and Isolde laughed beyond measure at Josh’s antics. He was trying to make her feel better, and it was working. When the dance came to an unfortunate end, he took her arm and led her toward their mother. “You do realize that we’re being watched.”
“We are?” Isolde looked about, and although she spotted a few members of their set watching them, it was nothing out of the ordinary. “I think you’re fibbing.”
“Mama told me you’re looking to be married by the end of the Season. Is this true?”
Isolde nodded to an acquaintance and answered her brother, “I am.”
“Don’t let the spiteful words from the Duchess of Moore make you act irrationally.” He sighed. “I fear Leonora’s marriage is not a happy one, for either of them, and she may say some things to you that might steer you away from the marriage state. Do not listen to her, if she does. She’s poison, Isolde.”
Isolde caught a glimpse into the gaming room where she spied the Duke of Moore at one of the tables, his brandy glass empty, his cravat untied and sitting loose about his neck. He looks disheveled and devilishly handsome. Damn him. “I’ve heard similar, but I cannot feel pity for either of them. They made their choice, and now they must live with it.”
Josh pulled her to a stop. “You’ve grown a backbone. Bravo, Sister.”
“I have, and it’s here to stay.” Yet the thought of Merrick being unhappy in his marriage made her uneasy. They had a child, after all. And no child wanted to grow up in a home where one’s parents did not respect or care for each other.
Her brother gained them both a glass of champagne, handing her one. “I must tell you something, if only to spare you the humiliation of finding out when you’re not properly prepared.”
Isolde took a sip, not liking the worry etched on her brother’s face. “What is it?”
His lips pursed. “Did you notice Her Grace was favoring her stomach when speaking to you?” He paused, and Isolde wondered what was so dreadful that her brother would struggle to find the words. “She’s pregnant with her second child,” he blurted.
Isolde’s stomach knotted at the thought of Merrick making love with her once best friend. It had tormented her for years, imagining the kisses, the sweet touches that had once been only for her. She shook the thought aside, needing to forget the past and all the hurt, for if she did not, she may as well pack her trunk and go back to Scotland, never to find happiness of her own.
“How lovely for them.” Suffering coated her every word. Her brother steered her toward a window seat, partly secluded with ferns. “It’s not the duke’s.”
“What!” Isolde clamped a hand over her mouth. People turned to look at them, and she laughed as if her brother had said something amusing. The child isn’t his? “How do you know this?”
“I have my sources, and I know, without doubt, it’s not Moore’s.”
The thought of such a thing, of Leonora having a child with someone other than Merrick, was absurd. How could she do that to her husband? Especially when she’d seduced the duke right under Isolde’s nose. Why would the duchess seek comfort elsewhere? “Are you certain?” she asked, unable to believe such a tale.
“I am.” He nodded, a serious look on his face. “That blackguard deserves all he gets with the spiteful wench.” Although Isolde didn’t like the harshness of Josh’s words, she understood her brother’s dislike of the couple.
“Let them be, and let us get on with our lives. I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”
Josh pulled her to stand, and, spying their mother, started in her direction. “You’re right. Apologies, my dear. I’ll not mention them again. Tonight is for enjoyment, not rehashing of past hurts.”
“I heartily agree.”
The night, Isolde was happy to say, passed quite pleasantly from that point on. Josh introduced her to an array of suitable gentlemen, enough to make her head swim. All of them bowed, danced attendance to her, complimented, and flirted as much as they could with her mother present.
It was most diverting, and Isolde enjoyed the night more than she thought she would. Just after supper, she stood to the side of the room, watching her mother speaking to Josh and a young woman Isolde hadn’t seen before. She was a sweet, delicate little thing, yet her determined intelligent gaze spoke more than any words could. The girl had her sights on her brother, a duke, and no other gentleman would do. Isolde laughed when Josh came to the same conclusion. He looked like a trapped lion with its tail between its legs who wished to run away.
Taking a sip of champagne, she watched Alice expertly perform the steps of a quadrille with a handsome gentleman with dark, brooding features. Looking past her smiling sister, her gaze landed on Merrick, who was conversing with the hostess.
His body was slightly hunched to enable him to hear the short viscountess who was talking vigorously, waving her hands about with gusto. She took in the clean lines of his suit. The broad shoulders and a body that no longer belonged to a gangly youth, but to a man in his prime. He was so handsome, so attentive to the lady, that Isolde found herself smiling. How she longed to dance with him again, if only to feel the press of his body against hers. To have his large, capable hands upon her person, to make the breath in her lungs catch…
She forced herself to look away, locking away the crushing jealousy that plagued her. From the first moment she’d met Moore, so many years ago now, she’d known he was hers. He’d stolen her heart and soul that night, and she realized she’d never really received them back.
No matter how much she told herself and others that she had healed, she had not. She would have to remedy that and quickly, if she wanted to marry and move on with her life.
