Enchanting the Duke

by Patricia Grasso

  “You would never consider deJewell?”

  “I would rather die a spinster on the shelf,” Isabelle said. “Will you answer a question for me?”

  The Earl of Ripon inclined his head.

  “Why do His Grace and you dislike each other?” Isabelle asked.

  “Our enmity is of a business nature.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see. I assure you our differences will soon be settled.”

  “Blessed are the peacemakers,” Isabelle quoted scripture, “for they will be called the children of God.”

  The Earl of Ripon seemed surprised by her statement. He opened his mouth to reply, but then faltered in a dance step. Her gaze followed his to the staircase.

  Looking like Lucifer himself, the Duke of Avon stood poised at the top of the stairs. His dark gaze was riveted on them.

  Isabelle was unable to tear her gaze away from her guardian’s forbidding expression. The feeling that she’d betrayed him by dancing with his enemy surged through her.

  “My lord, I would like to return to Her Grace,” Isabelle said.

  “Don’t let Saint-Germain intimidate you.” William said.

  “Please, my lord.” The music ended, saving them from negotiating their way through the other dancing couples. Before the orchestra could begin another waltz, Isabelle smiled at the earl. “Thank you again, William.”

  Without waiting for his reply, Isabelle left the dance floor and walked in the direction of Dowager Tessa. She reached the dowager at exactly the same moment her guardian did.

  John grasped her hand and led her onto the dance floor. “You’re nearly naked,” he whispered.

  “My gown is modest compared to several of the other ladies,” Isabelle said. There was a sharp edge to her voice when she added, “Look at Amanda Stanley or Lucy Spencer.”

  John narrowed his dark gaze on her. “Why were you dancing with Grimsby?”

  Isabelle refused to be intimated. “He invited me.”

  “Would you jump off London Bridge if Grimsby invited you?”

  “You are being ridiculous.” Isabelle started to turn away and leave the dance floor.

  John tightened his grasp on her hand. “Do not even consider walking off this dance floor.”

  Isabelle acquiesced with a nod of her head. She couldn’t very well create a scandalous scene right there on the dance floor.

  “Stay away from Grimsby,” John warned. “He isn’t the man for you.”

  “I find William rather charming.”

  “William, is it?” John echoed. “Listen carefully, Mistress Montgomery. Grimsby would love to discredit me before the ton and will not hesitate to use you if it suits his purpose.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Isabelle said. “The Earl of Ripon is a gentleman.”

  Their waltz ended. In an effort to escape her guardian’s anger Isabelle told him, “I’ve promised this next dance to another gentleman.”

  Isabelle knew she needed another dance partner quickly. Her gaze slipped past the slight, brown-haired man watching her. For the first time in her life, she walked toward the Baron of Redesdale.

  “I’m ready now,” Isabelle said.

  “For what?” asked Nicholas deJewell.

  “Our dance, remember?”

  DeJewell perked up at her invitation. Taking her hand in his, he led her onto the dance floor.

  His touch on her hand repulsed Isabelle, but she forced herself to maintain a placid expression. Dancing as far away from him as she could, Isabelle wondered if facing her guardian’s anger would have been less disturbing.

  “I must speak with you in private,” Nicholas said, his tone urgent.

  “What is it?” Isabelle asked, suspicious.

  “I’ve received a message from your brother,” he told her. “Will you walk with me outside?”

  Isabelle stared at him for a long moment. The last thing she wanted to do was walk outside with Nicholas deJewell. Then she recalled that Nicholas was her brother’s partner in his business venture, so he was probably telling her the truth. Why hadn’t John received a message from their brothers?

  Scanning the ballroom for her guardian, Isabelle saw him dancing with Amanda Stanley. She slid her gaze back to Nicholas and nodded.

  Leaving the dance floor, Isabelle flicked a sidelong glance at Nicholas, who appeared to nod at someone across the room. Her gaze followed his, and she caught her stepmother inclining her head at them. Were they signaling to each other? Something was very wrong here.

  Isabelle had a mind not to leave with Nicholas, but desperation for news of Miles kept her feet moving.

  “Are you certain that leaving together is proper?” Isabelle asked.

  Nicholas gave her an encouraging smile. “I guarantee that other couples will be wandering around.”

  When they stepped into the mansion’s garden, Isabelle let her eyes become accustomed to the darkness and then relaxed. Though seeing more than a few feet in front of them was difficult, she saw one couple standing near the stairs that led to the street and decided that she was safe. Nicholas led her in the opposite direction from the other couple. He stopped when they reached the barrier wall between the Debrett mansion and the adjacent town house.

  “Well, what news do you have from Miles?”

  Nicholas grasped her upper arms and yanked her against his body. Isabelle had the absurd thought that he was a lot stronger than she’d imagined.

  “I adore you,” Nicholas whispered, his lips descending to claim hers.

  “Unhand me, you idiot.” Isabelle struggled to free herself.

  “I love you,” he said in a louder voice, his grasp tightening on her. “I want to make you—”

  “The lady said to let her go,” a voice in the darkness said.

  Nicholas dropped his hands, and Isabelle leapt away from him. Her savior was William Grimsby.

  “God mend your ways, Nicholas.” Isabelle scurried to her rescuer’s side. “William, I’d like to return inside now.”

  Isabelle and William turned to leave the area, but came face to face with John Saint-Germain. The forbidding expression on her guardian’s face frightened her.

  “Nicholas lured me outside under false pretenses,” Isabelle tried to explain the situation. “William saved me from his advances.”

  John shifted his dark gaze from her to Grimsby. William nodded once, brushed past them, and disappeared inside Debrett House.

  “If you ever engineer my ward into another compromising position,” John warned, sliding his gaze to deJewell, “I will take great pleasure in ending your life. Do you understand?”

  The Baron of Redesdale bobbed his head and hurried toward the mansion.

  “Your stupidity boggles my mind,” John said, rounding on her. “Being alone with a man in a dark garden could place you in a compromising position. Your reputation would be ruined, and you would be forced into marriage with the man in question.”

  Without a word, Isabelle whirled away and took one step toward the mansion. John reached out to prevent her escape, gently but firmly forcing her to face him again.

  “Never walk away from me when I am speaking with you.”

  “You are speaking at me, Your Grace,” Isabelle said. “I must return inside lest my reputation be tarnished and I am forced to the altar with you. That, I assure you, would be a fate worse than death.”

  “Your sarcasm is unbecoming,” John snapped.

  “As is your rudeness.”

  The anger seemed to rush out of him. “You are correct,” John said, surprising her. “I want to warn you how dangerous and deceiving men can be.”

  “You were rude to the Earl of Ripon,” Isabelle said. “You never even thanked him for rescuing me.”

  “Why should I?” John drawled, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He usurped my duty.”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  “Listen to me,” John said. “Grimsby despises me and will use you if it su
its his purpose.”

  “I cannot believe that,” Isabelle scoffed. “Why do you dislike each other?”

  John looked away. “Grimsby is trying to ruin me financially.”

  Isabelle stared at him. She sensed he was keeping something from her.

  “Look over your marriage prospects and settle on one of them,” John said. The thought of her married to one of the young swains inside Debrett House troubled him, and that made him feel even more disgruntled. “I want you out of my life as soon as possible. I am tired of the responsibility.”

  “Did I ask you to take care of me?” Isabelle said, angry to be a burden on anyone, especially him.

  “Your brother asked,” John said in a clipped voice. “Listen, Isabelle. I’m sorry that—”

  “I have the headache,” Isabelle said, interrupting his apology. “I am returning to Montgomery House.”

  “I’ll instruct Gallagher to drive you home,” John said, offering her his hand.

  Isabelle dropped her gaze from his face to his offered hand. Lifting her nose into the air, she brushed past him and marched toward the mansion’s entrance.

  Isabelle refused to forgive the duke’s high-handedness until he mended his ways. She vowed to herself not to venture out into society until Giselle reappeared to give her guidance.

  Chapter 8

  Her stomach growled, protesting the long hours since supper the previous evening. She was hungry.

  Isabelle looked at herself in the framed, full-length mirror that stood in the corner of her bedchamber. She smoothed the skirt of her white muslin morning dress and turned to leave the chamber.

  “God’s breath,” Isabelle said, surprised to see the old woman sitting in the chair in front of the hearth. “Where have you been for the past week?”

  “Here, there, and everywhere.” Giselle gave her a nonchalant gesture of her hand. “Were you worried?”

  “I missed you.” Isabelle sat in the chair beside the old woman’s.

  “Thank you, child.”

  “I needed your advice.”

  “In that case, I’m sorry to have been gone for so long.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “To forgive is divine,” Giselle said.

  “Why were you gone so long?” Isabelle asked. “Do you have other mortals whom you protect?”

  “Every mortal has his or her own guardian angel,” Giselle answered. “Why did you need my advice?”

  “The Duke of Avon saw you that day in the garden,” Isabelle said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “How is that possible? No one has ever seen you before.”

  The old woman shrugged. “His Grace has a big heart.”

  “His Grace has no heart.”

  “How wrong you are,” Giselle said. “John Saint-Germain guards his heart against further injury.”

  “John has been hurt?” Isabelle echoed. “By whom?”

  “His late wife.”

  “What happened?”

  “I never indulge in gossip. His Grace must share that with you.”

  Isabelle gave the old woman a reproachful look.

  “If you want to know what happened,” Giselle said, “ask the duke yourself.”

  Isabelle forced herself to change the subject. “When will Miles return?”

  “Your brother will be delayed until after the prince and you wed.”

  “I have no wish to marry until I fall in love,” Isabelle said. “I want to enjoy more days together sitting beside the Avon River.”

  “I cannot remain with you indefinitely,” Giselle said, her voice gentling. “Someday you will sit beside the Avon River again, but your companion will be your own daughter.”

  Isabelle smiled at the thought of mothering her own child. True, she had no desire to wed at the moment, but she did desire a family of her own one day. Isabelle hoped to be the kind of mother she knew her own mother would have been to her.

  “Accept the Earl of Ripon’s invitation to ride with him,” Giselle said, drawing her attention.

  “The earl hasn’t invited me to ride with him.”

  “He will.”

  “Is William Grimsby the dark prince?”

  “Is your vision impaired? William Grimsby has fair hair.”

  Isabelle stood and looked down at her guardian angel. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Run along and break your fast,” the old woman said.

  Isabelle walked down the corridor. Nearing her stepmother’s bedchamber, she heard a familiar voice from within and paused. Revulsion swept through her like a gust of wind, but she stepped closer to the door to listen.

  “You told me,” Nicholas deJewell was whining.

  “I told you to seduce her, not attack her,” Delphinia said.

  “I assumed she’d marry me if I placed her in a compromising position,” Nicholas defended himself.

  “You assumed incorrectly.”

  “If it wasn’t for that meddling Grimsby, I’d have—”

  “Nicholas, stop whining.” Delphinia ordered. “You sound like an injured dog.”

  “What are we to do now?” Nicholas asked.

  “Stay away from Montgomery House for a week or two.” Delphinia said. “This unfortunate incident shall have been forgotten by that time. You’ll need to begin courting her again. Leave by the servants’ stairs. I don’t want her to see you.”

  Why was Nicholas deJewell so intent upon marrying her? She was a pauper. Yes, Miles would dower her generously, but why waste time on her when courting an heiress could prove more lucrative?

  Isabelle didn’t wait to hear more. Wondering about the puzzling conversation, she started down the main staircase. At least, she needn’t worry about seeing Nicholas for a week or two.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” she heard Pebbles saying in the foyer below. “Lady Isabelle hasn’t come down yet.”

  “I’ll leave my card,” she heard the man reply.

  Peering over the bannister to the foyer below, Isabelle saw William Grimsby. “Good day to you, my lord.” She hurried down the stairs.

  Both men turned at the sound of her voice.

  The Earl of Ripon smiled. “You agreed to call me William, remember?”

  Isabelle inclined her head and returned his smile. “What brings you to Montgomery House?”

  “I worried for your safety and wished to verify you weren’t suffering any ill effects from your experience last evening.”

  Isabelle blushed. “I am quite well, but my guardian did give me a stern lecture about being alone with men.”

  “For once I agree with Saint-Germain.” William raised his brows at her and added, “I’m positive that my rescuing you failed to lighten his mood.”

  “The Duke of Avon is my temporary guardian,” Isabelle said, “but he cannot order me about.”

  “In that case, would you care to ride with me tomorrow morning in Hyde Park?” William asked.

  It was just as Giselle had predicted, but Isabelle hesitated before answering. Her guardian would be displeased with her choice of companions, yet the earl had saved her good reputation.

  “I see that Saint-Germain’s reaction does trouble you.”

  “I would like very much to ride with you tomorrow.” Isabelle accepted his invitation, appearing more confident than she actually felt.

  “Shall we say nine o’clock?”

  Isabelle inclined her head. “Nine o’clock will be perfect.”

  William raised her hand to his lips. “It’s twenty years until then, my lady.”

  “Call me Isabelle. Remember?”

  William smiled. “Until tomorrow, Isabelle.”

  After he’d gone, Isabelle stared down at the hand that he’d kissed and regretted her decision. She felt obligated to accept the earl’s invitation because he had saved her from her stepmother’s nephew. If that wasn’t enough, his charming manner attracted her. Most importantly, Giselle had advised her to accept his invitation.

&n
bsp; Still, the sinking feeling that she was being disloyal to her guardian overwhelmed her and stole her appetite. She decided to return to her chamber to discuss these disturbing emotions with her guardian angel.

  Preoccupied with her thoughts, Isabelle crossed the foyer and started to climb the stairs. As if from a great distance, she heard the front door’s knocker and the majordomo answering it.

  “Lady Isabelle.” When she turned around, Pebbles handed her a sealed note.

  Isabelle opened it. The dowager and her sister requested she visit them immediately to discuss an important matter.

  “Shall I ride in your coach?” Isabelle asked the courier, taking the shawl the majordomo passed her.

  Ten minutes later, Isabelle climbed the front steps of the dowager’s mansion. She knocked on the door and, smiling at the majordomo, stepped into the foyer. “Good afternoon, Randolph.”

  The majordomo nodded. “They’re waiting in the drawing room.”

  “I know the way.”

  Dowager Tessa and Lady Hester were sitting on a sofa. Sprawled in a chair was her guardian who stood when she walked into the room.

  The dowager and her sister stood to leave. “John wants a word with you.”

  Isabelle looked at her guardian. He did not look especially happy.

  “Come and sit,” John said.

  Isabelle crossed the drawing room and sat on the edge of a chair. “Are you planning to apologize for your bad behavior last night?”

  The Duke of Avon remained silent.

  “I didn’t think so,” Isabelle said, “but there is something I would ask you.”

  John inclined his head. “What is your question?”

  “Miles will give me a generous dowry,” Isabelle said, “but I wondered the reason Nicholas deJewell wants to marry me instead of an heiress.”

  “I had not considered that,” John said, “but I have solved the problem of keeping deJewell and other undesirables away from you.”

  Isabelle met his gaze. The duke’s dark intensity attracted her, more than she would ever admit. “I don’t understand.”