Once Upon a Duke's Dream

by Ellie St. Clair

  I sabella claimed a headache that evening and did not return to the guests until the following day. Her discussion with the Duke had rendered her angry, exhausted, and, unfortunately, caused her to cry more tears than she felt the situation deserved. She had known better than to become attached to a man like the Duke .

  The next morning she heard a soft knock on her door and opened it to Olivia. Her friend had also heard the Duke’s words to Lord Kenley and had been livid, but Isabella had asked her not to say anything, though Olivia was keen to tell the Duke exactly what she thought of his words to the Earl .

  “Are you all right?” she asked Isabella, as she sat down on the bed. Isabella was nearly dressed for the day, and dismissed her maid, not wanting her to know of her problems. She chose her jewelry for the evening herself .

  “I’m fine, though I feel like such a fool,” she said. “I was right to begin with. A man like the Duke would never want a woman like me. I was a toy to him, whether for distraction or for some other reason, I do not know. I should have listened to my mind and not my heart .”

  “Please forgive me, Isabella,” said Olivia. “I truly thought he felt something for you when I encouraged you. Though do you not think, perhaps, he was just putting on a front for Lord Kenley? He looks at you with certainly admiration, and I believe much more than that, though it doesn’t excuse what he said. Perhaps give him time to explain himself further .”

  “No,” said Isabella with strength as she slammed shut the jewelry case in front of her and sat at her vanity table. “What I overheard from him as he discussed the matter with Lord Kenley pierced my heart much more deeply than it ever should have. What made it worse was that I must admit that I was beginning to feel something for the Duke, despite my best attempts not to. It’s all my own fault. I knew better .”

  When he had kissed her, her entire world had come alive, bright and sparkling – only for it all to shatter around her when she had overheard his dismissal of her. Then, seeing him outside her brother’s study, the guilt on his face only just masked by his apparent nonchalance, had confused her further. When he had professed his affections for her, she had not known what to believe. And so, her thoughts swirling and heart hurting, she had taken herself to her room and cried, overcome by it all .

  On top of everything, she was no closer to finding her grandmother’s diary. She had struggled to find any time to search, a growing desperation deep in her soul, though she did not share that with Olivia .

  “It seems I am unable to discern whether or not the Duke was being truly genuine in anything he said, but I must tell you, Olivia, I believe he is hiding something,” she said as she rose from her seat. “I found him once leaving the library very early in the morning, and another time in front of Gerard’s study, when all the men were to be out riding. I had the distinct impression that he was not telling the truth about what he was doing there .”

  “Did you not say that Gerard was also supposed to be out with the men that afternoon and he remained home ?”

  “Yes,” Isabella frowned. “Is that not worse, to compare the Duke to my stepbrother ?”

  Olivia shrugged but seemed to agree with her as she nodded .

  “He should not try to make me think that he felt something for me, especially after I heard him say quite the opposite to Lord Kenley! What on earth am I to believe ?”

  Olivia looked at her with a smile of confusion herself .

  “I’m not sure, Isabella,” she said. “But I do know that you deserve happiness, and I truly hope you find it .”

  “I will,” Isabella said with resolve as she thought of the treasure she searched for. “Although certainly not with the Duke of Carrington .”

  Given that she was in such a bind, Isabella decided she wouldn’t direct any of her attention towards the Duke for the next few days, as she protected her heart. Unfortunately, that left her with the other ladies for company, as well as the persistent Lord Belrose .

  * * *

  “M ight I sit by you for a moment ?”

  Putting on a smile, and fully aware that she was pale-faced with puffy eyes, Isabella nodded, relieved she had chosen to face away from the window at the afternoon’s gathering. She did not want Lord Belrose to ask her anything specific about her well being, for she was quite sure she might burst into tears if he did so – which would go on to cause a great many more problems .

  "So," Lord Belrose began, looking as if she had granted him some kind of boon, "might I inquire as to your health ?"

  Sighing inwardly, Isabella felt her smile become fixed. “I am well, I thank you .”

  “Your brother told me you had a headache last evening,” he replied, looking at her quite earnestly as though he might see her headache if he looked hard enough. “Are you quite recovered ?”

  At that very moment, out of the corner of her eye, Isabella saw the Duke turn towards her and she caught her breath. Turning to face Lord Belrose a little more, she tried to focus entirely on the man in front of her, not wishing to show the Duke any kind of interest .

  “Yes, I am recovered, I thank you,” she said, softly. “I was just a little tired. I have done too much reading of late. Sometimes I find the stories so interesting I stay up far too late reading by candlelight.” She was babbling now, trying to find some way of keeping up a conversation with Lord Belrose, in an effort to dissuade the Duke from attempting to talk with her .

  “Really?” Lord Belrose asked, his eyes widening as he studied her. “I had no idea you were such an avid reader, Miss Marriott .”

  “Oh yes,” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed on him. “Reading is one of the very great loves of my life, Lord Belrose. I’m afraid I prefer it to almost anything else .”

  He blinked. “Even to dancing ?”

  “Yes,” she replied, her skin prickling with awareness of the Duke drawing nearer. “Even to dancing, I’m afraid .”

  “Well,” Lord Belrose exclaimed, sounding quite astonished. “I must confess that I did not know such a thing about you, Miss Marriott. I shall make to purchase a book for you the next time I find myself in a bookshop .”

  Glancing away from him, Isabella was concerned to see the Duke coming within a few steps of them both, an expression of irritation on his face. She did not want to speak to him and certainly did not want to spend any time with him. There was only one thing for it .

  “Lord Belrose, another of my great pleasures is to take walks outdoors, although I have not gone out today. Might you escort me? I am quite sure we can gather a few guests for a turn around the gardens.” She put a bright smile on her face, hating herself for leading the man on but seeing no other option at the moment. “After all, it is a bright day and not at all cloudy !”

  Lord Belrose got to his feet immediately, stammering his agreement and looking at her as though the sun rose and set by her command. Isabella smiled and placed her hand on his arm, not hearing the way he stuttered and stammered his request for other guests to join them for a turn about the grounds. Olivia gave her a look, but all she could think of was the Duke. Lifting her eyes for the briefest of moments, she saw him stare at her, their eyes locking. He looked troubled, even hurt, at her attentions to Lord Belrose, but Isabella could feel nothing but relief .

  “Shall we go?” Lord Belrose asked, loudly, a wide grin on his face .

  “I must fetch my cloak,” Isabella replied, stepping away from him and the Duke. “Do excuse me. I will not be but a moment .”

  * * *

  T he rest of the day passed in much the same way. Isabella did everything in her power to keep away from the Duke, which meant throwing as much attention towards Lord Belrose as possible. Belrose lapped it up, apparently believing that she was slowly warming to him, while Isabella could think of nothing but escaping from the guests and returning to her bedchamber once more .

  Even after dinner was completed, there was the usual port for the gentlemen and tea for the ladies, followed by a lively few hours o
f dancing. Isabella had chosen to play the pianoforte, which meant that she was not required to stand up with anyone – much to the delight of the other ladies, and much to her own relief. The Duke chose not to dance at all, standing to the side in conversation, frustrating Lydia and her parents, who tried their best to engage his attentions .

  It seemed an age before the entertainments were at an end, but, eventually, she was able to excuse herself and leave the remaining guests to themselves, scurrying up to her room without a moment’s hesitation. Before long, she was in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. She had not done any searching for the missing diary for two days now, for her mind and heart had been caught up by the Duke. Determined that she would continue her search the following day, Isabella closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep .

  * * *

  “Y our Grace!”

  Turning to see Durand holding a glass out to him, Bradley accepted it with thanks but did not drink, feeling he had quite enough already that evening .

  “Thank you, Durand.” He held the glass carefully in his hand, a warning shooting through him. “How did you enjoy the walk today?” he asked, struggling to think of a way to make conversation .

  Durand’s eyes flitted from the glass Bradley held to his face. “Yes, yes. It was refreshing, of course.” He tried to smile, but there was something hidden just behind his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, however, I think I shall have to retire.” He pressed one hand to his head, wincing. “My sister’s headaches seem to run in the family !”

  “Of course,” Bradley replied, quietly, lifting the glass in a small toast. “Good night, Durand. I shall see you come the morning .”

  Durand nodded and made his way to the door. “Do ensure to keep the good Duke company, won’t you, Belrose?” he called, seeing Charles standing by the decanters. “And top up his brandy when he is finished .”

  Bradley did not say anything but turned to see Belrose grinning at him, having just poured himself a large measure of brandy. He was tempted to drink his, of course, for it was very fine brandy, but something told him not to touch what Durand had given him. It looked just the same as any normal brandy, and Bradley was quite sure it would taste just the same but, instead of thinking that he was worrying over nothing, he tipped the glass into a nearby potted plant and placed the glass down. He frowned as he saw the froth suddenly bubbling up from the bottom of the glass, as well as from the dampness in the soil of the plant. Had he been quite right to think that Durand had put something in his brandy? The liquor did not normally fizz and bubble like that .

  “Jealous you did not have Isabella all to yourself today, Carrington ?”

  Bradley did not smile, his thoughts about his brandy flitting away. “I believe it is Miss Marriott to whom you are referring ?”

  Lord Belrose’s smile widened as he swayed a little, the glass of brandy sloshing in his hand. “Yes, yes, Miss Marriott. Quite the beauty, is she not ?”

  “Yes,” Bradley conceded, sitting down in an armchair beside the fire. “She is.” He gazed up at Lord Belrose, both irritated and curious with the fellow. He could not understand why Isabella had seen fit to spend so much time with the man today. He had tried, on more than one occasion, to speak to her but she had been far too caught up in conversation, and had even taken a turn about the garden with him! Was she deliberately trying to avoid him? Or did she have some kind of affection for Belrose? The thought made his anger stir, even though it was not Belrose’s fault that she bestowed her smile on him .

  Lord Belrose chuckled and threw back his brandy in two large gulps, then immediately tottered off to get more .

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Bradley muttered, shaking his head as Charles returned and slumped in the chair opposite, spilling some brandy onto his shirt. “For goodness sake, Belrose, take yourself to bed !”

  “I am to have her, you know .”

  Bradley’s interest was piqued at once. “Have her? Who are you talking about, man ?”

  “Isabella, of course,” Belrose slurred. “She is to be my wife .”

  It was as if a lightning bolt struck Bradley, as he felt both hot and cold in equal measure, his skin prickling. “She has accepted you, then?” He had not known that Belrose had even the intention of asking Isabella for her hand and was even more stunned to hear that she had agreed to it .

  Lord Belrose chuckled. “Of course .”

  A shudder ran straight through Bradley, his entire body growing tense. She had agreed to marry Belrose? What on earth had possessed her to do such a thing? Was this her plan to escape her stepbrother ?

  He did not know what to say, only half listening to Belrose babble on and on about Isabella’s great character and how wonderful a wife she would make him. The idea of her married to the man made Bradley almost sick with disappointment, and he was surprised at how strong his feelings were. After all, he had no claim to Isabella, and had he not told himself repeatedly that he was not looking for a wife? Had he not thought that she was nothing more than a distraction from his true cause? Why then had he the sudden urge to shake Lord Belrose until his teeth chattered ?

  Frowning, Bradley tried to put his thoughts in coherent order but the vision of Isabella in his mind caused him only to become more and more confused. The way she had responded to his kiss made him believe that she felt nothing for Lord Belrose, and clearly was quite the innocent. Why was it that he could not get her from his mind ?

  The thought of their kiss had haunted almost every waking moment, as he found that he wanted to do it all over again — and more. Bradley, however, was not the kind of man who toyed with an innocent lady and took his physical pleasure from her body without any kind of future in mind .

  That meant that, should he wish to continue things with Isabella, he would seriously have to consider marriage. He was shocked to find that the idea did not send cloying fear to his mind, but rather a peace and quietness. Evidently, he felt more for Miss Marriott than he had allowed himself to admit. But if she was betrothed to Belrose, could he have any kind of hope that she might be easily swayed away from him ?

  Breaking an engagement was a scandal of course, but since it was not yet public, perhaps he had time to sort matters out. First, of course, he would have to win back her trust .

  “She will be a most amiable and obedient wife, I am quite sure,” Belrose finished, with a grand sweep of his arm. “I am going to be a very happy gentleman .”

  Bradley shook his head, wondering if Belrose truly knew Isabella. "I confess that I do not think Miss Marriott will be as easily amenable as you think, Belrose." Recalling what he had overheard in the library, Bradley wondered if he might be able to ask the gentlemen some more leading questions. It appeared he had something of a loose tongue when he was in his cups .

  "She will do as she is told," Belrose said, darkly, making Bradley tense. "That girl has been left to herself for far too long. Her brother wants her fortune, and I want a beautiful wife. All in all, it should work out very nicely. Once we are wed, she will have very little choice but to obey ."

  Bradley's questions went out of his head at once, as he stared at Belrose in astonishment. He had not thought the man had such a darkness about him, but apparently, it was always carefully hidden. "What do you mean, he wants her wealth?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Is Durand not wealthy already ?"

  Belrose snorted. “Not nearly as wealthy as his stepsister. Why do you think he lives here ?”

  “Then how is he to get her wealth for himself?” Bradley asked, most confused. “It is not hers to do with as she pleases?” His heart went out to the lady, who was clearly living in a horrible situation. There didn't appear to be any love lost between her and her stepbrother and, with no other family to speak of, she evidently was unable to remove him from her home .

  “Miss Marriott does not come into her full inheritance until the day of her marriage,” Belrose explained, his eyes now half clo
sed. “She has repeatedly refused everyone that her stepbrother has placed in front of her, including me! However, Durand and I have an agreement.” He tapped the side of his nose, using the hand that held his brandy glass, which meant that even more liquor fell on to his clothes. However, the man did not seem to notice. “When she and I are wed, I will give Durand half of her wealth because, of course, as my wife, her fortune becomes my fortune.” He grinned lazily. “After all, we know that women cannot manage money! It will be up to me to do with it as I please .”

  Bradley clenched his jaw, trying his utmost to keep his temper under control. How dare they use Isabella in such a way? She must be under a great deal of pressure, so it was very little wonder she did not speak well of her stepbrother .

  “Close with Durand, are you?” he muttered, seeing Belrose’s eyes slowly begin to close. “Long-time friends ?”

  “It’s the French blood in our veins,” Belrose replied, with a large yawn. “It has to count for something, does it not ?"

  “French blood?” Bradley repeated, trying to pretend he was merely curious. "Whatever does that mean ?"

  Belrose belched loudly and shook his head. "I am loyal to the Crown," he said, frowning as his eyes glazed over. "Although it is just as well you did not go riding the other day, Carrington. The chap had nefarious intentions for you, I am quite sure ."

  “Nefarious intentions?” Bradley repeated, trying not to sound too interested. “Whatever do you mean ?”

  Shrugging, Belrose’s eyes became heavy. “Not too sure, but I believe I saw him take something out from under the horse’s saddle. The horse that was meant for you, you understand .”

  “What did he place under it ?”

  Belrose yawned widely, struggling to keep his eyes open .

  “Belrose!” Bradley barked, making the man jerk with surprise. “What did he place under the saddle ?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Belrose muttered, frustrated. “Looked like a spur of some kind. He was in quite a temper than you decided not to go riding, that’s for sure .”