Only a Duke Will Do by Tamara Gill

Chapter 7

Aweek later, the Worthinghams held their annual London ball. The night was everything Isolde’s younger sisters abhorred and their mother adored.

Isolde watched as Alice and Victoria tried to smile and converse pleasantly with everyone who came within hearing distance of them, but the crush was exactly that, a stifling crush that intoxicated one with too many differing fragrances.

A pang of sympathy filled her as Victoria paled to a shade whiter than her silk gown. She started toward her sisters; the poor dears really loathed Society’s rules and strictures—the what’s-done-and-not-done before the ton. Not to mention, the gentlemen who were skulking about their skirts looked less than ideal…

She came to stand between them, took both their arms, and excused them from their set. “Come walk with me a moment.” Isolde steered them in the direction she’d last seen their mother. “What’s the matter, my dears? Are you not enjoying yourselves this evening?”

Alice made an unladylike face. “I hate having to go to balls all Season long, but having to suffer at a ball of ours and be the center of attention is the worst type of agony.”

Victoria nodded in agreement. “It’s absurd, Isolde. Really, I would much rather be home with my horses and my dogs.”

They came to stand not far from their mama and turned to watch the throng of guests. “’Tis not so bad. Surely there are some eligible gentlemen who’ve captured your attention. If not the ones you were standing with.”

Victoria scoffed. “No, there are not. They all bore me to tears. I was almost crying, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I agree,” Alice said. “I wish Mama had listened to us and not made us have this dreadful evening. What I wouldn’t do to be back at Dunsleigh.”

“You cannot catch a husband cocooned in Surrey.” Isolde knew that better than anyone, and she certainly couldn’t lead by example, as she’d lost her betrothed on the very night before her wedding.

“Elizabeth took the last good gentleman of the ton when she married Henry.” Alice sighed. “When do you think we’ll get to visit her? I do miss her terribly.”

Isolde smiled, thinking of her elder sister who was very well situated in life and in love with dearest Henry. “I’ll talk with Mama. Perchance we can visit after Season’s end, but on one condition.”

Both Alice and Victoria’s eyes brightened at the prospect. “What condition?” they asked in unison.

“That you enjoy the Season as I have set out to do.

Mama deserves more happiness such as what Elizabeth has bestowed on her. It’s time we, too, played our part.”

“Very well,” they agreed, although their tones were less than positive.

“Excellent,” Isolde said, spying Anne beckoning her from across the room. “And now I must mingle and be merry.” Her sisters’ laughter faded behind her as she made her way across the parquetry floor. With the rooms adjacent to the ballroom open for the gambling inclined, the crowd had dispersed a little, which made it easier to move about.

Isolde clutched Anne’s hands as she came to stand before her. “I’m so glad you came tonight. I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Your family has a beautiful home, Isolde. We’re having the most splendid time, even if I am feeling a little poorly.”

“Is all well? Is the baby…” Isolde couldn’t finish the question lest the reply was too upsetting to bear.

“No,” Anne said quickly, understanding dawning in her gaze. “The baby is fine; I’ve just been sick most days. Our doctor says it’s quite normal and should pass, but as yet, it has not. I may have to put a halt to outings, unless they’re entertainments that I cannot live without. Clayton has promised to dance the next waltz with me, and then I shall be going home. I hope you do not mind.”

“Never would we mind. You must look after your welfare above anything else.” Isolde looked about the room. “Where is Lord Kinruth? I have not seen him tonight.” A frown line marred Anne’s forehead, and unease rippled through Isolde. “Is there something else that troubles you?” she asked.

“He wanted to catch up with an old school friend, but I’m loath to tell you who it is, for I fear it may upset you.”

Isolde frowned. “If you’re worried about Moore and Lord Kinruth rekindling their friendship, don’t be. They went to school together. They may be friends without offending me.”

“I know, but…” Anne clasped Isolde’s hand tighter. “Will it not be difficult? It will mean you may be thrown in each other’s paths more often. I would not want to cause you undue pain.”

Isolde shook her head. “Anne, you could never do that.” There was nothing to be done. Merrick was friends with Lord Kinruth, and as unfortunate as that association was, it was no one’s fault. She would have to guard herself more when out with Anne, in case Merrick was with them. As it was, she struggled to tamper her emotions whenever she saw him. The way he looked at her when no one was watching left her morals conflicted in the worst imaginable way. And the best, too, if she were honest.

“I’m so sorry, dearest.” Anne looked close to tears, and Isolde took her hands.

“None of this coincidence of friendship is your fault. If I’m to be a part of this Society again, I must move on and accept that His Grace and I will cross paths. It is a necessary evil.”

Anne sighed, her relief evident. “I’m so happy you said so. I was worried that it would cause trouble between you and me, and I class you as the best of friends. I would hate anything to come between us.”

Isolde shook her head. “Nothing could come between us.” At the spoken words, a shiver ran down her spine as she remembered saying something similar to Letty, now the Duchess of Moore, many years ago. They had been the best of friends, two girls who’d shared everything: their secrets, hopes, and dreams. A pang of loss coursed through her that she’d lost her oldest friend, as well as her future husband, at their betrayal. Life was cruel at times.

The deep rumbling laugh that she knew as well as her own sounded to the side, and Isolde looked about the room, catching the gaze of Merrick as he strolled toward them with Lord Kinruth. As always, since the very first moment he’d been introduced to her, a sizzling attraction coursed between them. Isolde had hoped that after all that had passed, she would no longer feel the need to reach out and pull him to her side, touch him, laugh with him. How could something so good have gone so wrong?

She turned to greet them, and the curious gazes of the guests who watched the play between two people once betrothed were like tiny pinpricks up her neck. She bobbed a small curtsy. “Your Grace, Lord Kinruth.”

The gentlemen bowed. Isolde noted Lord Kinruth took Anne’s hand and pulled her toward the floor. “You owe me a dance, my dear.”

Anne laughed and followed him without question. Isolde met Moore’s gaze and wondered if this situation looked as awkward as it felt. “Are you enjoying yourself, Your Grace?” His inspection of her was reminiscent of the looks he’d once bestowed upon her when she’d been his and he was hers. Those looks should be saved for his wife, yet Isolde so wished they could be hers. All day and forever.

“I am now.” He took her gloved hand in his and pulled her toward the floor. He should’ve placed her hand on his sleeve, and yet, he kept it firmly clasped in his. She fought to release his hold without success. Damn him.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, spotting Leonora’s furious glare from across the room.

“I’m about to waltz with the most beautiful woman here.”

He pulled her into his arms, and she fought not to fold herself into his embrace. Familiar hands clasped her waist, strong and sure, and time fell away. All that was wrong with them, the mess that made up their past, became nothing but a nightmare of long ago. If only it was as easy as a dance to forget. Isolde looked up at Merrick, and pain pricked her heart.

“You should dance with your wife.”

He threw her a self-deprecating smile. “My wife doesn’t wish to dance with me, I can assure you of that. For instance,” he said, turning them so she could see Leonora. “Do you see the gentleman standing beside her?”

Isolde glanced over his shoulder. “Lord Barkley. Yes, I see him.” She could also see the duchess leaning so close against the gentleman that her breasts were pressed against the man’s arm. It was perhaps more scandalous than His Grace dancing with his ex-betrothed.

“Let me assure you, the duchess much prefers the company of others over her husband.”

Isolde met his gaze and noted the troubled look in his eyes. “That doesn’t give you leave to make another wrong. You should go to her, fight for her, even. As is your duty.”

He pulled her into a tight turn, the skirt of her gown brushing his breeches. They had not been this close since… Isolde pulled her thoughts away from such musings. Reminiscing of all that she’d lost did no one any good. This Season was her chance for happiness.

Moore leaned down, his breath but a whisper against her ear. “I don’t want to fight for her.”

Isolde turned to meet his eyes. The action placed them close enough to kiss, just a slight lean toward him and they would touch. His attention dropped to her mouth, and she licked her lips, cursing herself for doing so when his attention turned smoldering. Lifting her chin, she pulled away, giving them both much needed space. “You need to stay away from me, Merrick. I’ll not have you do this to me. You made your choice, and now you must live with it.”

“There was no choice in what happened.” He pulled back, his eyes narrowing. “And what if I said I no longer wish to live with it. What would you say to that?”

Isolde shook her head. How dare he act like the victim in what had occurred? It had been his choice. He didn’t have the right to now play her a fool just because his choice hadn’t turned out as well as he’d liked. “Oh no, there was a choice, and you made it perfectly clear. I watched you take your vows. In fact,” she said, anger taking hold of her good sense, “the moment I found you naked in your room with my friend in your bed, your decision was perfectly clear.”

“Had your family allowed me to explain what had occurred, that day could’ve turned out a lot differently than it did. After all that we shared, how could you think I wanted anyone other than you?”

She looked away, noting only a few people were looking at them, which surprised and relieved her. It always seemed as if all the world’s eyes were boring down on her. This conversation was far from appropriate, and it wouldn’t surprise her if the whole ton were leaning in, listening to their every word.

“I think you, of all people, can understand why they didn’t think you deserved the honor of explaining how my best friend ended up in your bed the night before our wedding.” He paled, but Isolde was past being sorry.

“Leonora was never our friend,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “And do not think, no matter what she says, that she will ever be one to you again.”

“I do not care to be the duchess’s friend, now or ever. This conversation is over, Merrick.” Isolde pulled out of his embrace, curtsied, and smiled delightfully. The less the ton suspected, the better. “I wish you very happy.”

Moore kissed her gloved hand, pinning her with his heated stare. “You may wish all you like, Isolde, but I’ll never be happy so long as we’re apart.”

She wrenched her hand free. “Then I’m very sorry for you, because that is something that no one can change. Good night.” Isolde walked away and fought to keep her knees strong lest they give out and collapse beneath her.

Unaware of where she was heading, she stood beside a window and cursed the moment Leonora sidled up next to her and clasped her arm. “Did you enjoy your dance with my delightful husband?”

Isolde was sick of being kind and acting the perfect lady. It was obvious Leonora wished a war of words, and if that was what the harlot wanted, then that was what she would get. “Very much so. He’s most adept.”

Leonora’s eyes narrowed. “If you want a dalliance with him, I’m willing to share. We’ve done it before, you see, had grand parties and well, all I will say is that Merrick is most accomplished even with more than one woman in his bed.”

Isolde gasped at the vulgarity of such talk. To think such things was a notion she’d never contemplated. She shook her head, unsure if Leonora was playing her a fool or trying to shock her into the vapors. “Should you be placed beside the girl I knew as a child, I would not know you now. What happened to you, Letty?”

Her Grace glared, her fingers clawing into Isolde’s arm. “I was never that girl, and that girl is thankfully dead. I love my life and the scandalous way in which I live. And if you think to include yourself in Merrick’s life or to even become his mistress, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ll crush you, should you try.”

Annoyance pricked her hard in the gut, and Isolde removed Leonora’s hand with a punishing squeeze of her own. “Threatened, Letty? How droll of you. And if I wished to have Merrick, I would only have to click my fingers and he’d be mine.” Isolde smiled sweetly and walked away, pleased that for the first time in what seemed eons, she’d rattled her old friend and now nemesis.