The duke finished off the remainder of his brandy and rose from his chair. Isabel and her mother followed suit.
“This evening of speaking of old friends has been pleasant,” he said.
Isabel had to fight herself from shying away as his gaze remained on her. And to keep herself from laughing at the absurdity of speaking of them as ‘old friends’. Yet that steady gaze was more than a bit unnerving.
“However, I must be on my way,” he continued. “Mrs. Barnet, I look forward to our outing.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.
“As do I,” Isabel replied, wondering if she was lying or telling the truth. In all honesty, she was unsure.
“Allow me to walk you to the door,” her mother said. “Isabel, will you refill our glasses?”
Isabel nodded, although she found the request odd. She did not want more sherry, and her mother never had more than one after dinner. Regardless, she gathered their glasses and walked over to the liquor cart, the events of the evening playing in her mind.
Her mother had seemed excited at the prospect of Isabel and the duke spending the afternoon together. The reason for his presence this evening had never been clarified, but surely dinner had not been planned simply to arrange an outing? No, that made no sense, for the invitation came only because of their talk of a single incident that the duke found reminiscent of his youth. She could not blame him for that; everyone had special memories others might be less likely to recall, for that same event might not have been as impressive to them.
Returning to the sofa, Isabel placed the glasses on the table, her frustration over this evening growing. Something was amiss, but she struggled to see it, so she considered what she did know. For one, the duke was a kind man. Perhaps he was lonely and in need of a friend.
She closed her eyes and recalled a time not long after the passing of her father. The duke had arrived, and despite the fact she had said little, he had offered her words of comfort.
“Never feel alone,” he had said, “for if you are in need of a friend, Camellia Estates is but three miles from Scarlett Hall. If you need anything, and if I am able to give aid, simply ask.”
Letting out a sigh, Isabel opened her eyes. According to rumor, the duke rarely left his house. He was a proud man; therefore, he would not say so openly, but it was clear he was in search of a companion. Her mother knew her desire to remain unattached now that Arthur was gone, and the woman would never force her into something more with a man for whom she did not have a great affection. Well, she would return the kindness he had shown her.
“What a wonderful evening,” her mother said when she returned to the drawing room. “His Grace is certainly not the young boy he once was.”
“No, he is not,” Isabel replied as she gave her mother the sherry she had poured for her. “I hope my actions and words tonight pleased you.”
Her mother sipped at the sherry before responding. “Yes, my dear,” she said. “It went even better than expected.” Although she tried to hide the small smile behind her glass, Isabel noticed it, and more questions arose in her mind.
“Mother,” she said as she returned the untouched glass to the table, “you said that the reason the duke had come to dinner was for matters pertaining to business, correct?” She had never had a head for numbers, and during her two years of marriage, Arthur never expected her to worry herself with matters of business.
“I did.”
Isabel felt a stab of annoyance at the lack of details in the reply her mother gave. “What matters, if I might ask?”
Her mother heaved a heavy sigh. “Isabel, these things are always complicated. All I ask is that you enjoy any time you spend with the duke and be sure the man remains happy.”
“But I do not…”
Her mother raised her hand to forestall her, and Isabel fell silent. “We have nothing more to discuss,” she said with that tone of finality that said the conversation was over. “Let us enjoy our sherry.”
Isabel nodded but left her glass untouched. She could not help but wonder about the strange actions of her mother. The woman had grown impatient with her questions, something that she rarely did in the past. It was as if she were hiding something. Yet, that seemed unlikely, for what could she possibly be hiding?
Oh, how she wished this wretched fogginess would leave her head! Then at least she could think straight.
She glanced at the sherry—her third this evening. She, like her mother, rarely had more than one. Perhaps that was what was causing her to be suspicious. She was an adult now, already widowed; there was no reason for her mother to hide anything from her.
Relieved that she had found the culprit for her own strange behavior, her mind turned to the duke and their plans for horseback riding. Granted, she preferred to spend her days inside or walking the gardens alone with her thoughts, but she had to admit that an excursion did sound pleasant. Even if it meant going with the duke rather than being able to do so alone.
Chapter Four
The sun shone as Isabel and Hannah waited for the carriage to be brought around. Isabel had asked Daniel to ready the horses just as Juliet disappeared once again. Not that Isabel minded; not with how often the girl could be such a handful.
“Thank you for coming with me today,” she said to her sister. Her mother had insisted Isabel have a chaperon for this outing with Laurence, which was idiotic in this stage of Isabel’s life as far as she was concerned. However, her mother was never one to see another’s argument, and therefore Isabel had reluctantly agreed. Well, perhaps not all that reluctantly. At least she would not be forced to be alone with the duke.
Hannah shrugged. “It will give me time to read,” she said as she clutched the book to her breast. “You are unlike Juliet, so I will not need to worry.”
Isabel let out a small laugh. “No, you will not have to worry. Besides, Laurence is a gentleman, and beyond that, a duke.”
Hannah seemed to consider this for a moment. “You are right, although I do find it odd that the man has suddenly appeared for the first time in a year.”
“It was a matter of business,” Isabel explained. “One of which I am privileged to know.” Isabel smiled at her sister’s reaction. They might be grown women, but Isabel could not help but tease Hannah like she had when they were younger. She fought down the sadness that tried to take over; today was to be great fun, something she had not experienced for some time.
“Please tell me,” Hannah begged, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What business is it?”
“I cannot say,” Isabel said as she pulled at her glove although it was already on her hand. “I have been sworn to secrecy.” She glanced at Hannah and stifled a giggle. “Well, perhaps I can trust you.” Then she sighed. This was the most fun she had had in a long time! “No, it is not worth the risk.”
“Oh, please! I beg of you, tell me!”
Before Isabel could respond, Juliet charged from behind a nearby hedge, a wicked grin on her face. She placed a hand on Hannah’s arm. “I shall tell you, dear sister,” she said with her typical enthusiasm when she had a secret to tell. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Many years ago, our sister kissed the duke, promising him her undying love!”
“Juliet!” Isabel gasped wondering how her sister could tell such tales.
“It was the type of love one might find in a book,” Juliet continued as she walked over and leaned against a pillar. “Therefore, the business mother and the duke are conducting is quite simple.”
“And what is that?” Hannah asked, her excited curiosity clear in her tone.
“You cannot kiss a man and expect him to forget. He is now wanting more. Men are like that, you see, even to the point of taking women away in the middle of the night.”
Hannah’s eyes widened.
“That is enough,” Isabel chastised. “Tell Hannah you are only teasing.”
Ever the dramatic one, Juliet placed her hand on her breast. “Oh, Isabel is correct,�
�� she said with a sigh that could have deemed appropriate for the stage. “I was only teasing about the duke.”
Hannah gave a relieved sigh. “Oh, that is good.”
“However, I was not teasing about the men who have been known to take away women after they have kissed or ones they desire and cannot have,” Juliet said. “Do make sure you lock your window at night.” With a flourish, and before Isabel could force her to take back her words, Juliet turned and walked away.
“Pay her no mind,” Isabel said as the carriage pulled up, two saddled horses tied to the back. “She is only telling tales again.”
“I know,” Hannah said with a shake to her head. “I would not worry even if it were true. I do not plan on ever marrying.”
“No?” Isabel asked as the carriage stopped before them and the driver retrieved the steps. “And why is that?”
“Because I love my books more than I could ever love a man,” Hannah replied as she thrust her book out before her. “Men are mere barbarians, and they do not appreciate the finer things in life.”
“And what are these ‘finer things in life’?”
Hannah gave her an indignant glare. “Why, art, reading, writing, and the theater, of course.”
The driver opened the carriage door, and Isabel allowed Hannah to get in first. When they were both settled, she looked at her sister. She was a pretty woman who could marry any man of her own choosing, and yet she was so absorbed by books and make-believe, she could not see it for herself.
It was a pity Hannah chose to wear dresses of the blandest colors, much like the brown riding dress with its high collar and loose sleeves. Her straw hat displayed not a single piece of lace or accessory, and her gloves, what could be seen of them, although white, had no buttons or lace! The word ‘Wallflower’ came to Isabel’s mind, and she was shocked to realize that it was the exact word to describe this particular sister.
“Perhaps one day,” Isabel said, “you will meet a man who likes the same things you do. Then perhaps you will change your mind.”
Hannah seemed to consider this idea for a moment before speaking. “Then I would have to allow him to court me, then marry me, and finally I would be forced to have his children. Then, as he enjoyed his life, I would have less time to enjoy mine.”
“It appears you have given this some thought,” Isabel said.
“I have.” Hannah placed the book on the seat beside her and leaned in toward Isabel. “I must share a secret with you, and you must swear you will never tell.”
The carriage jostled as it moved forward, and Isabel considered telling her sister that she could not do that. How could she be expected to keep one more secret? However, she could not find it in her heart to be so cruel. “I promise. You may tell me.” So often she missed the camaraderie she and Hannah had oftentimes shared when they were younger. Before Isabel married. Before she left Scarlett Hall.
“Mother has always spoken of the season with such wonderment,” her sister said, her voice just above a whisper as if someone outside the carriage might overhear. “And I know I cannot fake another illness.”
“No, you cannot. It would only make Mother worry.”
“That is why I shall hire a man to court me!”
Isabel could not help but stare at her sister. “I expect such things from Juliet, but certainly not from you!” she said in shock.
“Who do you think gave me the idea?” Hannah asked. “It was she who advised me in this area. And although our youngest sister lacks discretion in most areas, she is right about this. If I pay a man in secret to appear as if we are courting, I will not have to go to London, and therefore, Mother will not have to be concerned I will become a spinster.”
“But that is exactly what you will become!”
Hannah chuckled. “Yes, but Mother does not need to know that. By the time I am a spinster, I will be old enough to make my own decisions.”
Isabel could not believe this young woman would stoop to such levels. “You cannot pretend to be interested in a man for the approval of others.”
“Oh?” Hannah asked with a derisive sniff. “Is that not why you are going riding with the duke?”
The words rang true, and Isabel had no answer to give. Her sister was correct, but her situation was much different from that of Hannah. Explaining as much to Hannah would be difficult, so instead, she handled it as her mother had just three nights prior
“Enough of this talk,” Isabel snapped. “We are almost there.”
Hannah gave her a knowing smile, and Isabel could not help but return it, for she knew her sister had certain ideas about this outing that Isabel refused to address.
***
Laurence considered, not for the first time, how numerous events had shaped his life from the prestigious schools he attended, living with an uncle when his parents died, and then later returning to Camellia Estates when he was old enough to take over the responsibilities of the dukedom. All of them had a significant influence on the man he was today.
His family home was quiet on most occasions, minus the typical sounds of servants going about their duties. Today, however, it would entertain new voices, and one of those voices had been heard only once before—that of Mrs. Isabel Barnet.
In just under an hour, Mrs. Barnet would join him to go riding and, he hoped, to have meaningful conversation. He had not yet decided in regards to the request made by Lady Lambert, but after speaking with the daughter in their drawing room, he found the idea more intriguing. If they were to marry, they would save the Lambert ancestral home, for which he would be glad. The place could never belong to any other family.
Although he did not know Mrs. Barnet well, especially now that she was an adult, he did find her interesting. And beautiful. Over time, they would learn to love one another, and that thought excited him. The manner in which she showed interest in their conversation during the evening of the dinner in Scarlett Hall only reinforced the idea that they might have a shared attraction for one another.
A slight pain engulfed his leg, and he massaged the damaged muscle, a movement that had become habit, for it did little to ease the pain. It was not an unusual incident, but it did cause him to reconsider marriage.
Although Mrs. Barnet never made mention of his leg, nor had she looked at him in disgust, he could not help but ask that one question that always came to his mind in moments such as this: Would she wish to be seen in the company of one who was only half a man?
He could walk, true, but he could only do so for short treks before his leg pained him. He also could ride, but he would be required to tie one of his legs into the stirrup. If only he had been injured in battle like other self-respecting gentlemen! Then he would have no reason to feel shame.
What was I thinking by asking her to go riding with me? he asked himself as a surge of anger coursed through him. Now she would be able to see what little he could do and therefore be repulsed by him as much as he was for himself. Well, it was too late to cancel now. And, if he were honest with himself, he would not have canceled even if he could have.
With a sigh, he walked over to the desk and picked up the invitation to the party he had not attended the previous night. Then, the thought of attending such a party with Mrs. Barnet made him smile. The people would look on in wonder at the beauty on his arm, and then, perhaps, they would look at him differently. They would no longer see the lame duke but rather the man married to such a beautiful creature. He could almost hear their words:
“He must have more to give than we previously believed.”
“Such a lovely woman would never agree to wed a man who could not care for her. He is not a complete loss.”
“Perhaps we were wrong; he is a whole man after all.”
It was not that he had heard such statements from any of his peers, but the words echoed in his mind for so long, at times he wondered if they had not originated from whispers he had overheard somewhere. Regardless, he would be seen as an equal to those of his station, and the
more he thought on the possibility of marriage to Mrs. Barnet, the more the idea appealed to him. She would be able to make him happy, and he could do the same for her. No expense would be spared; she could have anything and everything she desired.
Sighing, he pushed the card away and dropped his head into his hands. He was never one to make a decision in haste. He had told Lady Lambert he would give his decision after careful consideration, and allowing his imagination to run wild was not being careful. He had to look at this with a logical mind and not allow his heart to run amok.
“Your Grace?”
Laurence looked up to find Weber standing beside his desk, and his heart skipped a beat. “How is it you are able to enter a room so silently?” he asked the man, still attempting to calm his racing heart. “I wonder if your feet ever touch the ground.”
“My apologies,” the butler said with a bow. “A quiet butler is an employed butler.”
Laurence chuckled. “I suppose you are correct,” he said. “What is it you need?”
Weber produced a small tray carrying a letter. “For you, from your sister.”
Laurence grimaced as he picked up the folded paper from the tray. “Thank you, Weber. Is the basket ready?”
“It is. Would you like me to bring it here?”
“No. Leave it by the front door.”
The butler bowed again. “As you wish, Your Grace.” Then he was gone.
Laurence walked over to one of the wing-backed chairs that sat in front of the empty fireplace. There, he opened the letter.
My Dearest Laurence,
I find it troublesome to my soul that you do not write to me as often as I write to you. Nevertheless, I shall continue to pen letters although it is a burden.”
Laurence shook his head. Harriet had always been spoiled and overly dramatic. It was no wonder they did not get along. Why she bothered to write to him at all was beyond him, but perhaps she was simply bored and had no one else to whom she could correspond. With a shrug, he continued reading.
Secrets of Scarlett Hall Box Set: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection Page 4