Her aunt settled herself comfortably on the chaise longue before replying. 'There are things about his past that it is only right I should tell you. He was married before— this was, like yours, a marriage of convenience, but from all accounts he came lo love his wife and they were content together.'
'I had no notion this was to be his second marriage. What happened to his wife?'
'Rochester was in London on business, his wife and two small daughters at home in Newcomb when they were struck down with the sweating fever. All three had died before he could be sent for.'
'How dreadful! Poor man, to lose all three like that, and so suddenly too. Small wonder I detect a darkness in him. This explains a lot to me.' Isobel scrambled up pushing her hair to one side. 'I shall make him happy, bear him children and make him forget about the sadness all those years ago.'
'In which case, my love, I shall tell your uncle to accept the offer. We are both delighted— when you came to us I knew you would take, but had no idea it would be Rochester who offered first.'
'Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, Aunt Laura?'
Her aunt smiled and patted the chintz covered seat beside her. 'Sit down, Isobel, there were one or two things I don't expect your mama told you. Your husband will be vigorous in his attentions until you are increasing. From that point you will be left in blessed peace until several weeks after the baby is born. With luck you will become pregnant the first month— it's what all new wives pray for I am sure.'
This was indeed a strange conversation to be having. Could it be true that what took place between a man and wife in the privacy of the bedroom was so unpleasant it was preferable to be permanently with child?
'I hope I am able to provide the duke with an heir, after all it's why he's marrying me. I am not so naive, Aunt Laura, to imagine he feels the same way I do. But underneath his reserve I believe there’s a loving man waiting to be discovered.'
That night Mary laid out her newest acquisition; not the usual white that was expected of a debutante, but a gown of palest green, silk chiffon, the over skirt in sparkling, silver sarcenet. She was like a princess from a fairytale; although the neckline was a trifle daring for someone of her age, with her emerald necklace to fill the expanse of creamy skin, she was less naked. This stunning item had once been her mother's and was handed to the oldest daughter on her come out.
'Mary, do you think I am doing the right thing?'
Her abigail shook out an invisible crease in the gown before answering. 'It isn't for me to say, Lady Isobel. If you’re happy then I’m content also.'
With this unsatisfactory reply ringing in her ears Isobel hurried out to join her cousin who was waiting impatiently in the parlour so they could descend together.
'Pet, damask rose is perfect for you. I'm so glad you have been allowed to wear colour tonight as well.' She slipped her arm through her cousin's and twirled her round. 'And when do you expect to receive your first offer? Have you decided which of your many admirers to accept?'
'La, Isobel. I have decided not to accept any of them. I wish to have a second season as it's so much fun. I’m sure being married could not possibly be nearly as exciting. Eleanor, now Mrs Eleanor Watson, was at school with me and she's already a mother and was only married last summer.'
'Unlike you, my dear cousin, I much prefer to be in the country and not gallivanting all over
the place attending balls every night.'
Petunia's tinkling laugh echoed along the corridor. 'Fustian, Isobel, and you know it. You have enjoyed every minute of these past weeks that you've spent with the most attractive man in London at your side.'
Giggling, Isobel squeezed her cousin's arm. 'But it will be so much more enjoyable having him all to myself in the country.'
Still laughing at their daring conversation they arrived pell-mell at the head of the stairs. Isobel all but tumbled headlong in her effort to stop. Halfway up the staircase was the gentleman they had been discussing so immodestly. From the amusement in his eyes she was certain he had overheard. She wished the floor would open and swallow her. She was scarlet from her toes to the tip of her ears. Petunia abandoned her and ran past leaving her to face him alone.
'Lady Isobel, every night you appear in a different gown and each time you take my breath away. I apologize for eavesdropping. This was not my intention, I assure you. Come, sweetheart, I have permission to take you to the library. There is something most particular I wish to ask you.'
Unable to do more than mumble a response she allowed him to guide her down the remaining stairs and along the wide passageway. The door was standing open, no servants lurking to overhear. He almost bundled her inside and she heard the door click shut behind her. Her heart raced. She was about to receive a marriage proposal from the man of her dreams — so why did she feel so apprehensive?
Should she find herself a seat or remain trembling in the centre of the carpet? From what little she knew of these matters the gentleman was obliged to go down on one knee in order to ask her that all-important question.
'My love, do not look so scared. We both know why you're here and we both know my question is a formality.' He walked towards her and she was unable to move. Her feet seemed to be glued to the floor. 'Before I ask you to marry me there's something I must do.'
The distance between them vanished. His arms came around her and she was pulled gently until she could feel his heat burning through the thin stuff of her evening gown. Her knees were shaking. She raised her hands to press them on his chest and tilted her head intending to ask him to release her. She had no opportunity to speak. His mouth closed over hers in a kiss of such sweetness her fear melted.
His heart pounded beneath her fingertips. He was as disturbed as she and this gave her the courage to respond. Her hands crept up until they were around his neck and she buried her fingers in his dark hair. It was smooth and silky beneath her touch; she tugged at the back of his neck to bring him closer to her.
Then her feet were dangling free, his arms crushing her close and the pressure of his lips increased. His tongue ran along her mouth demanding entry to the moist recesses within. This was too much. She was overwhelmed by what was happening. Her body was responding to his lovemaking whilst her head was screaming no.
Suddenly she was free, but her legs gave way and without his arms to support her she would have sunk in a pool of green silk at his feet. 'Sweetheart, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to frighten you. Here, darling, let me carry you to the sofa.'
'No, I am quite recovered thank you, sir, ' her voice was little more than a whisper but he took heed and did no more than guide her to the seat.
'Lady Isobel, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'
Shocked by the abruptness of his proposal she almost refused. He had not bothered to go down on one knee, but remained staring down at her as if impatient for an answer. 'Thank you, your grace, I shall be delighted to accept.'
'Excellent. I shall ride down to Norfolk tomorrow to speak to your father and arrange the settlements. We shall be married at Newcomb four weeks from today. I shall leave you to organize your bride clothes. Four weeks is sufficient I hope?'
Isobel wanted to tell him it was not nearly enough time, that an engagement of a month was far too short, that she'd hoped to get to know him better before the marriage took place. It would be a fruitless exercise. She had better become accustomed to being dictated to. The man she had just agreed to marry would brook no contradiction to his orders. Had she made a dreadful mistake?
'I shall be ready in time. Are we to have a wedding trip, my lord?'
He cupped her face and brushed her lips with his own. 'My love, did you not say you were eager to spend time in the country alone with me?'
'I did, and April is the perfect month to spend in Hertfordshire.'
'Come, sweetheart, give me your hand, there's something I still have to do.'
Obediently she held it out and he pushed a betrothal band with a pe
rfect square cut emerald
on to her ring finger. She gazed down, her eyes pricked— the ring was perfect. It also exactly matched the necklace she was wearing. Her hand strayed to her neck and his eyes followed it. Before she could retreat she was once more within his arms but this time his lips drifted across her neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
A strange languor made her limbs heavy; she relaxed against his arms tipping her head back to give him access to her breasts. She was released abruptly and her future husband was standing with his back to her. Was he unwell? Instinctively she stepped forward and touched his shoulder.
'Lady Isobel, return to the drawing-room to give your family the good news. I shall be with you directly.'
How inconsiderate— it would look decidedly strange for her to enter without him at her side.
She sighed and did as she was bid. Probably best to start learning to follow his dictums. One she was his wife he would have complete authority over her. She prayed he would not be too authoritative.
*
The next four weeks flew past. Her parents arrived from Norfolk and her bride clothes were completed. There was no time to repine, everyone told her she was the luckiest girl in the land. As the day for her departure to Hertfordshire drew closer she hoped her fears were unfounded. Bentley had rarely been alone with her, and then he left for Newcomb to oversee the preparations for her arrival a week before the wedding.
'Mama, I have scarcely had time to converse with my future husband. We have been acquainted but a few weeks— how am I going to manage living with a stranger?'
Her mother shook her head. 'Isobel, child, you have the rest of your lives to get to know each other. There is not a woman in town who does not envy you. To be married to a duke who is not in his dotage is good fortune indeed.'
'We are not to have a wedding trip, did I tell you?'
'As you have no taste for travelling, my dear, I should think you are relieved to be staying put. Anyway, as he is marrying you to fill his nursery it is far better you remain in England. I doubt the physicians in other countries are as expert as our own.'
No more was said on the matter and two days before the wedding the baggage carts set off at first light and Isobel and her family followed after breakfast. There was to be a celebration ball that night for the most prestigious of his neighbours, then the next day there was to be a garden party for the staff and tenants in order to allow them to pay their respects. A quiet family dinner would follow and then it would be her wedding day. Her uncle and aunt and her two cousins, Petunia and David, had accompanied them. David was two years older than Pet, and great fun to be with. Everything was a lark to him, including the thought of Isobel marrying a duke.
As the carriage turned into the drive of Newcomb, Isobel lowered the window and craned out like an urchin ignoring her mother's demands that she sit down immediately.
'Look at that monstrous building— it must have hundreds of rooms. I've never seen anything so enormous in all my life.'
'Isobel, sit down at once. How can you express such a view about your future home? You should be grateful it is not in the north of England but a mere morning's drive from Town.'
'I beg your pardon, Mama, but the thought of spending the rest of my life here is quite daunting. It must have a hundred staff to maintain it. How am I going to manage to run such a place?'
Her father frowned and cleared his throat noisily. Hastily she sat down, recognizing the danger signals. 'Isobel, I am shocked by your disrespect. This place will not require your intervention; there will be a housekeeper and butler to take care of things. Your duty is to be a good wife and provide your husband with an heir.'
'Yes, Papa. I know what is expected of me, and apologize if I have given offence.'
A small army of liveried footmen were waiting to greet them. Where was Bentley? Then he appeared in the doorway and strode down the steps to snatch open the carriage door himself.
'My love, you are here at last. Come, let me show you around your new home.' Ignoring her parents, and the second carriage that contained the rest of her relatives, he escorted her inside. She was almost running to keep up with him.
'Please, my lord, should I not speak to the staff who were waiting to greet me at the door?'
'Absolutely not, darling girl. I have something to show you and it cannot wait. Remember, you will be my duchess the day after tomorrow. You're answerable to no one here apart from myself.'
She was breathless when he stopped outside handsome double doors. Two flunkies bowed and opened them. 'My word! What a pretty sitting-room. Is this to be mine?'
His delight at her reaction told her she had said the right thing. 'I’ve had your apartments refurbished and redecorated. That's why I have been absent so much these past few weeks. I wished it to be perfect for you.'
Her heart skipped and impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Laughing he swung around like a child and kicked the door shut in the faces of his staff. 'If there is anything I’ve forgotten, anything else that you wish for, you only have to ask.'
She gazed round the room, her eyes wide as she took in exactly what was there. She ran from one item of furniture to another exclaiming in pleasure. 'A walnut desk, and a harpsichord. Look, an easel and everything I need to paint. I cannot believe it, you have chosen all these novels and they are exactly what I would have picked myself.'
'I spoke to your mother when I was in Norfolk and she told me of your interests. I have a stable full of horses you can ride. As I don't care for house pets there are no dogs here for you to fuss.'
At the mention of her own beloved animals she felt a moment's sadness. She would miss them sorely, but her siblings had promised to take care of Ebony and Othello in future. 'You’re a kind and generous gentleman; thank you for thinking of me in this way.'
At that moment she had no doubts. He might be a reserved man, might not love her as she loved him but he cared enough to oversee the redecoration and refurbishment of her apartment personally. That was enough to reassure her she had not been mistaken in her choice.
Chapter Four
The ball was a great success and, defying convention, she danced every dance with her future husband. Waltzing for the first time was magical. He held her close and they'd twirled in time to the music in a world of their own. Every time he looked at her his eyes burned with something she wasn't quite sure about, and the slightest touch of his hand sent shivers of excitement up and down her body.
As Mary helped her disrobe she decided to ask exactly how a husband and wife were intimate. She understood somehow they must become as one body in order for the man to transfer his seed, but she was rather unclear exactly how this happened.
'Tell me, Mary, what will my husband do on my wedding night?'
'I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you this, it might be better to wait and not know the details.'
There must be something Mary did not wish her to know. ‘As you're a married woman, and closer to me than anyone else, I am relying on you to explain everything.'
By the time all had been revealed she rather wished she had remained ignorant. However, she now understood about the strange hardness that had been pressing into her when she had been in his arms. After her abigail left she mulled over what she had been told. The aperture into which a man's part must go would not even stretch to receive one of her own fingers. She would be torn apart— no wonder in the olden days a bloody sheet was held up for all to see to prove the new bride had been an innocent.
She slept little that night, got up early and donned her riding habit and found her way to the stable yard. A sleepy groom was only too pleased to saddle up the pretty grey mare she selected and to accompany her on her ride. The exercise and fresh air cleared her head, she would not think about her wedding night. She would concentrate on the here and now. There was the garden party this afternoon and she must not be out of sorts for that.
****
'Where is
Lady Isobel, Lady Illingworth? She did not come in to breakfast this morning.' Alexander hoped Isobel wasn’t hiding from him.
'I believe she went out on horseback and is now resting so she will be fresh for this afternoon's event, your grace.'
He relaxed, he should have thought of that himself. 'Thank you, madam, I was concerned she might be unwell.'
There was to be a substantial spread set out for his tenants and staff, barrels of ale and jugs of freshly made lemonade plus pasties and the like. Fortunately the day was fine; it would be a perfect April afternoon, ideal for such a celebration. The sooner her tedious relatives departed the better. Isobel would settle quicker if she had only himself to turn to for advice. He didn't want anyone from her past at Newcomb— it must be a fresh start for both of them.
The fact his bride was marrying in order to restore the fortunes of her family made things a lot easier. She obviously understood their union was more a matter of business than anything else—she to provide him with an heir and he to settle a vast sum on her impecunious father. His lips curved. It would be no hardship sharing her bed.
There were still two hours until the start of the garden party. As his nuptials drew nearer his mind turned constantly to his beloved Eleanor and he was beginning to think he was making a grave mistake. He would retreat to his study and fortify himself with a much-needed brandy or two. He was drinking far too much — had been doing so for years— but alcohol was the only thing that deadened the pain.
Foster arrived and roused him from his doze. 'Your grace, I beg to inform you your guests are assembled and your tenants arriving in the park.'
Alexander swung his boots to the carpet and eased himself upright. He must desist from drinking during the day for it gave him a damnable headache. He checked his cravat was undisturbed and headed for the drawing-room. Isobel curtsied, but carefully avoided eye contact. There was something bothering the girl. He must give this some thought.
The Duke's Reform Page 3