Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 1

The night was unseasonably warm for the season and he could feel the sweat pooling in the small of his back beneath his uniform. Still, he pushed on, the heavy bale of hay in his arms the last one he had to carry before turning in for the evening.

He absentmindedly wondered how the Manor servants coped with the heat, trapped as they were in their livery day in and day out, and counted himself lucky with his much lighter outfit. There might have been some advantages, but he was happy with his work in the stables.

Though this was one of the most difficult times of the year. The Norman Estate was so close to London that the Duke and his family often opted to stay there rather than in Town and the need for horses and carriages was nearly constant.

He put the hay bale down for a moment and wiped the sweat off his brow, jumping when he heard a door shut loudly in the Manor. He whirled around but saw nothing in the growing darkness.

Slightly unnerved, he retrieved his load and made his way back into the stables, listening carefully for anything out of order.

“I’m just bein’ silly, aren’t I, Girl?” he said, patting one of the fillies on the nose.

He went to check their water troughs before turning in for the evening. It was a task he had performed easily a thousand times before, his mind wandering to the following morning’s tasks as he checked and refilled where necessary.

A loud whinny brought him out of his thoughts. It was a sound of alarm, and it was quickly followed by a chorus of neighs, as the horses that had previously been sleeping woke up as well.

He rushed to the stallion that had reacted first and found him practically prancing around his stall, eyes rolling wildly.

“Whoa, whoa, Boy,” he said, trying to calm the panicked animal to no avail. The mare in the next stall was just as frightened and for a moment he was at a loss, even as he fruitlessly tried to calm them down.

He noticed the large snake that was poised to strike just a moment too late.

A searing pain went through his leg just above the edge of his leather boot and he cried out as he fell over, reaching for something to hit it with. Grabbing a broomstick from nearby he brandished it like a sword.

It was the wrong move to make, but in the haze of pain emanating from his leg he was not thinking clearly. The snake reared again, its fangs sinking into his wrist this time.

He fell over with a shout, even as his brain started to fog over. The snake was venomous.

Each breath became a little more difficult than the previous one and he could not think through the pain and the haze that had settled within him. He lay back, exhaustion overtaking him, even as the horses’ cries of alarm echoed through the stable.

I should have told Molly that I loved her.

His eyes slunk closed and then he knew no more.

* * *

Inside the Manor, Lady Isabel sat bolt upright in her bed, the vision of the stable hand’s death still imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She pressed a hand over her racing heart and breathed deeply, still disturbed by the morbid dream.

A few seconds later, it was clear that sleep would not come again easily despite the exhaustion she was feeling, so she pushed off the heavy blanket covering her and brought her legs down to the cold floor.

The fire had already been banked for the evening, the slow-smoldering embers providing little heat in the large room. Shivering lightly, Isabel felt around for her slippers blindly and then pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders to ward off the chill.

They had been having unseasonably warm weather, so the slight chill she was feeling was not entirely due to the cold of the night. She shuddered again at the remembrance of her dream.

For a moment, she debated waking up her cousin, but then decided against it.

Pull yourself together, Isabel. It was only a nightmare.

Pulling her dressing gown close around her, she approached the window. The grounds of the Estate were dark, the moonlight carving ominous silhouettes of the most mundane objects.

And in the distance, a lonely man carrying a bale of hay.

She startled, squinting at the dark figure.

It has to be a coincidence. I am simply being overly anxious after that dream. He will walk into the stables with his hay bale without anything further happening.

But the man paused and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. Isabel remembered how hot he had been feeling when he paused, the small action of wiping the sweat away bringing a slight coolness back to his skin.

I must have gone off my head. I was only a dream!

But even as she tried to convince herself of that fact, the back of the Manor leading to the gardens slammed shut, the booming sound making the stable hand twist around in alarm. His head cocked sideways slightly in curiosity and Isabel knew that his next move would be to pick up his hay bale and walk back to the stables depositing it near the heavy doors at the entrance.

There was not a moment to lose.

Heedless of the hour or her state of undress, she rushed out of the chamber and started pounding on her uncle’s door.

“Uncle! Uncle! Wake up. We must hurry!” she cried.

It seemed like an eternity before his door opened.

“Isabel? What is amiss?” he asked, but his response was her retreating back as she rushed away from him.

Isabel stopped when she reached the end of the corridor and realized that he was not following her.

“Please, Uncle,” she begged, panic rising steadily within her. “We must go to the stables.”

“But–”

“Isabel?” her cousin Jenny asked, her door opening as well.

“We must hurry,” Isabel repeated, her voice loud as she put more distance between them. They only had a few minutes at most before the worst happened.

She could hear their questions but did not pause to answer any of them.

“Lady Isabel?” the butler questioned in a surprised tone when she rushed through the foyer. She skidded to a stop a couple of feet away from him. He could help.

“Anderson, please. We must go to the stables as soon as possible. Before he dies.”

“Before he dies? Whatever are you talking about, Milady?”

“Please, Anderson,” she said.

He must have seen something in her face that convinced him that she was being serious because he immediately called for the footmen. Isabel shot him a smile and then continued on the path to the stables.

Her short pause in the foyer had allowed her uncle and cousin to catch up with her and she could hear them close behind her. It was reassuring. She would not allow that man to die if she could help it.

She ran across the grounds, a stitch developing in her side at the unaccustomed exercise, but she did not let up in her speed. There was not a moment to lose.

The first of the horse’s panicked whinnies broke through the night as she crossed the threshold of the stables.

“No!” she yelled loudly, and the stable hand turned to stare at her. “There is a snake,” she said, each word coming through in a pant. “It’s venomous.”

The stable was suddenly flooded with people. Her uncle’s hand landed on her shoulder, her cousin and the staff only a few seconds behind him.

“Milady?” the stable hand questioned, looking at her strangely. His voice was almost lost in the din the horses were creating.

She was certain that he thought she was mad, standing there in her nightgown, her hair plastered to her forehead where it had escaped her nightly braid and her chest heaving, but it was imperative that he believe her. She steadied her breathing as best she could and tried again.

“The horses are reacting to a snake that has entered the stable,” she said with forced calm. “It is in that corner,” she pointed to the location in question. “And it is venomous.”

Now it was not only the stable hand that was staring at her. One by one, everyone’s heads turned in her direction.

“If you go near it, it will bite you and you will die,” she said.

He looked frightened now, though she was not certain if it was due to the snake or her words.

“Isabel,” her uncle said, and she turned to look at him. His face was unreadable. “Perhaps you were dreaming, Child.”

Her chin lifted in defiance to the calm words. “There is a snake in that corner,” she repeated firmly. “Anderson, will you and the footmen take a look? I have never seen anyone have such a quick reaction as this man,” she said and then turned to the stable hand. “I am sorry, I do not know your name.”

“It is Roger, Milady. Roger Hamilton.”

“Roger. Have you ever been bitten by a snake before?”

He shook his head. “Aye, but it was a tiny thing, without poison. My Da died of a snake bite a few years back and my Mam taught us to avoid them as much as possible.”

“Matthews, Jackson, go have a look in that corner. Carefully,” Anderson instructed.

The two footmen skirted around Isabel and Roger, their eyes avoiding her. Matthews picked up the same broomstick that Roger had in her dream and Jackson a nearby lantern. They approached the end of the corridor cautiously as everyone else watched.

Matthews yelped retreating a few steps when the light touched the corner, revealing the snake that was coiled to spring.

Pandemonium reigned for the next few minutes as the footmen and Anderson wrangled the frightened serpent out of the stables, keeping their distance as much as possible.

Isabel sat on a nearby bench, her cousin Jenny’s arm around her shoulders. She no longer felt cold after running through the Manor and gardens, but she was slightly numb after the events of the last few minutes.

From the moment she woke up until the lantern’s light touched the snake, it all felt like a bizarre dream.

Perhaps I am sleeping still.

It would explain why she felt so exhausted. Her eyes were starting to close, even as she sat there.

“Isabel,” her uncle said, and she looked up, finding him standing in front of her, his face sterner than she could ever remember seeing directed at her. It was the look he reserved for people who had behaved in a way he found inappropriate, moments before he scolded and dismissed them.

“Isabel,” he repeated in a harsher tone bringing her out of her thoughts. “What happened here tonight?”

She took a deep breath, pushing away the cobwebs from her mind to answer him.

“I am not certain,” she hedged, reluctant to reveal everything to him, though she could not think of a reason why she would be.

“How did you know that there was a snake there?” he asked. “Tell me,” he insisted when she hesitated. “You obviously knew that something would occur here tonight or you would not have woke me up.”

For a moment she regretted that action, but then she remembered that this was her uncle. The man who had taken her in after the death of her parents and had treated her just as well as he had his own daughter. She would be doing him a disservice if she were not honest.

“I don’t know exactly what happened,” she said, and then continued when she saw the frustration on her uncle’s face. “I do not! I had a dream of what occurred, only in my dream we were not in the stables when Roger walked to that corner and he was bitten by the snake. He died a few minutes later and that is when I woke up.”

“A dream?” her uncle asked, his hand on his chin and his eyes focused internally.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Anderson and the footmen standing at the stable doors, and she squirmed a little at their scrutiny. She had never been averse to being the center of attention, but never for a reason such as this. Jenny rubbed her arm, and she took her cousin’s other hand, grateful for the support.

“Have you had any other dreams like this one?” her uncle asked. Isabel shook her head.

“No, Uncle.”

He nodded to himself and then turned to the staff, eyeing them each in turn sternly.

“You are not to speak of this to anyone. If I hear even the barest hint of gossip about this incident, you will all be dismissed without references, regardless of who is responsible for spreading the information. Am I understood?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Anderson said solemnly. The others murmured their agreement as well.

“You are dismissed for the night,” the Duke said, waving his hand and the men dispersed, leaving him alone with the two young women. He turned the same strict look to his niece.

“You are not to leave your chamber.”

“But–”

“Father!”

The Duke raised his hand silencing their protests.

“I will not hear it,” he said, and for the first time that evening, Isabel heard a touch of anger enter his tone. “I do not know what sort of sorcery has overcome you, Isabel, but I will not risk you harming this family’s reputation and standing.”

“It was just a dream,” Isabel whined in protest. It was the middle of the Season. She could not afford to be stuck at home at this time.

“My decision is final,” her uncle said. “And please refrain from exposing yourself as you did this evening in the future. I would have preferred that the man die of a snake bite than gossip about witchcraft spreading about you and our family.”

“Surely you do not mean that, Father,” Jenny said. “I think everyone was grateful that Roger did not die tonight.”

Isabel was glad that her cousin found it within her to speak because she did not think that she would be able to make a sound after that proclamation. How could her uncle say such a thing? It was horrible to even consider allowing a man to die when she could prevent it, but that was what he was asking her to do.

“And if by saving him, she had doomed both your marriage prospects?” her uncle asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “She could be branded a witch for this, dragging our name and your reputation through the mud along with her own. No. My decision is final. Isabel, you will stay in your chamber until further notice. Anything you require will be brought to you by one of the maids, and you will limit your lady’s maid’s access to your chamber as much as possible.”

He looked from one girl to the other.

“Yes, Uncle,” Isabel said, resigning herself to her future.

“Yes, Father,” Jenny added, though Isabel could tell from her tone that she would wait for different moment to challenge her father on it.

Her uncle nodded and then gestured toward the Manor.

“To bed with the both of you now. It’s late.”

Isabel lowered her head and walked toward the Manor obediently, conscious of her uncle’s footsteps behind her and Jenny.

“We’ll talk on the morrow,” Jenny whispered when they reached the corridor to their chambers and separated. Her cousin smiled at her gently from across the hall as she entered her chamber.

Isabel pulled the bedcovers back over herself, fatigue stealing over her body even as her mind whirled.

She could not understand why her uncle had become so angry at her. Her stomach writhed uncomfortably at the memory of his expression, the horror of his proclamation that he would have rather she allowed the man to die returning.

But mostly she struggled to accept the injustice of it all. It had only been a dream. One time. And her uncle had reacted as if she had been creating potions and spells in a storefront in Cheapside.

Surely something like that could not happen again.

And when it didn’t occur again, her uncle would realize the unfairness of it all and allow her to resume her normal activities. Satisfied with the thought, she rolled over and allowed herself to relax into sleep, confident that it would be a singular occurrence.

After all, magic and premonitions were not real, were they?