Isabelle glared at him, battle etched across her features. “I’ll take her to Arden Hall.”
“I am your husband and refuse to allow it.”
“You won’t be my husband if I divorce you.”
“Over my dead body.”
Isabelle stared him straight in the eye. “If it’s over your dead body, a divorce will not be needed.” She whirled away, marched to the door, and called over her shoulder in an angry voice, “Thank you for showing kindness to her this evening.”
Muttering about her husband’s pigheadedness, Isabelle slammed the door shut behind her. She marched down the corridor to the grand staircase and climbed the stairs to find refuge in her own chamber.
Isabelle sat in front of the hearth and felt the fight rushing out of her, leaving her depleted of energy. Performing her wifely duty was out of the question for that night. After all, she couldn’t very well threaten her husband with divorce or death and then slip into his bed.
Isabelle gazed at her wedding band. The marriage vows he spoke were empty words, expressing a meaningless sentiment from a man who had no heart.
Chapter 14
What else could he have expected from a lady who knitted a shawl for a flower girl?
John stood in his office the next afternoon and watched from the window as his bride sat in the garden and played her flute. His alleged daughter gamboled around and around like a garden sprite.
He didn’t know what to do about the two new females in his life. John now understood how his wife’s mind worked. Isabelle saw her own lonely childhood in the girl and was determined to shower the child with love. She was protecting Lily from going through what she had experienced. He admired his wife for her big heart, but would society accept a daughter born on the wrong side of the blanket?
A divorce was out of the question. He would never allow it. Neither would he accept a miserable marriage.
God, he wanted Isabelle back in his bed.
He loved her. Her threat to leave him made him even more aware of that fact, but he could never let her know his feelings. Lenore had used his love against him, and John intended never to allow that to happen again.
His second marriage was no love match in the usual sense. On the other hand, if he hadn’t loved her just a little, no amount of pressure from his mother could have persuaded him to marry her.
Isabelle could not resist adopting any stray who wandered across her path. Would he have wanted her any other way? No. His wife was perfection.
He wanted a wife who cared for others, especially children and those less fortunate. Whatever he decided would color his relationship with Isabelle. For once in his life, John was going to let circumstances unfold instead of controlling events.
John lifted the parchment off his desk and read the missive from his brother. Ross had wasted no time in beginning his investigation, but Constable Black was still interviewing people, hadn’t learned anything new, and had his runners following deJewell and Grimsby. London society was buzzing about the Duke of Avon’s scandalous wedding reception disaster. Lisette Dupre had disappeared, leaving no evidence of Lily’s birth certificate.
John turned his attention to bedding his wife again. She might resist him now that she’d threatened divorce, but Isabelle didn’t stand a chance against his superior sophistication and considerable charm.
What they needed was a change in scenery. His wife would let her guard down once she’d left the usual details of everyday life behind. Not only that, but they would be free from the threat of his would-be assassin in Scotland. He would take her to his estate in the mountains of Argyll, where London society did not exist.
John sat at his desk and penned two missives. The first was to his brother explaining where they’d gone. The second was bound for his Liverpool office, instructing them to prepare one of his ships to sail to Scotland on the evening of the twenty-eighth.
John rose from his chair and tugged on the bell pull. A few minutes later the door opened, and his majordomo appeared. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“I want two groomsmen to deliver these,” John said, passing him the missives. “Then inform Her Grace I want to speak with her in my office.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Dobbs left the room and closed the door behind himself.
For fifteen minutes, John paced back and forth behind his desk. “Enter,” he called when he heard his wife’s knock.
The door swung open, and Isabelle stood there. Determination had etched itself across her features as she marched across the study toward him, ready to do battle.
“I meant what I said last night,” Isabelle announced, without giving him a chance to speak.
John gave her his devastating smile, meant to confound her, and was pleased to see surprised bewilderment replace the anger in her expression. “We’re leaving in the morning for my estate in Scotland,” he told her. “Please make the necessary preparations.”
“I am not leaving England,” Isabelle said, the battle returning to her expression.
John had expected that reply and nearly laughed aloud at her wonderful predictability.
“Please sit down and we’ll discuss this,” he invited her.
Isabelle lifted her chin a notch. “I prefer to stand.”
“I said sit,” John ordered, his voice stern.
Isabelle sent him a murderous glare and then sat in the chair in front of his desk. She said nothing, but her gaze shot daggers at him.
Righteous anger becomes her. Her stubborn determination was admirable—but not when directed against him.
John walked around his desk and leaned against its front edge so he would be close to her. He smiled again, but she refused to meet his gaze. Her lap had suddenly become the most interesting feature in his study.
“Anger is one of the seven deadly sins,” John reminded her.
That got her attention. Isabelle slid her gaze to his. Her expression told him she was not amused.
“Within the past two days, I’ve managed to acquire a wife and a child,” John began, not giving her a chance to argue. “Whoever tried to assassinate me may try to get to me through my new family.”
Worry replaced the anger in her eyes. “Do you really think so?”
“We’ll be safer in Scotland until I hear from my investigators,” John said. “Ross is the only person who will know where we’ve gone. Do you see the sense in what I’m saying?
Isabelle nodded. “Will Lily accompany us?”
Her question surprised him. “Do you believe I would leave her behind?” he said. “Dobbs and Juniper will also travel with us.”
“Very well, I agree.” Isabelle smiled for the first time since walking into his study.
“You have an enchanting smile and should use it more often,” John said. “Pack your oldest gowns, darling. Summer in the Highlands is a casual affair.”
“I’ll begin the preparations immediately.”
John allowed himself the pleasure of a wolfish grin as he admired the natural sway of her hips as she crossed the study to the door. His wife had agreed to go to Scotland without giving him too much difficulty. Away from society’s constraints, she would be more vulnerable to his seduction. Getting her into his bed could prove easier than falling out of a tree . . .
* * *
. . . Getting her husband to accept and acknowledge his daughter could prove easier than falling out of a tree, Isabelle decided as she lifted the flute case off the table the following morning. Away from society’s constraints, John would find becoming acquainted with Lily much easier. She was a sweet child, and he would become irrevocably attached to her.
“I knew His Grace would soften toward the child.” Isabelle whirled around at the sound of the old woman’s voice.
“He hasn’t acknowledged her yet,” Isabelle said.
“Simple creatures, men need time to become accustomed to fatherhood,” Giselle told her.
“Will you be joining us in Scotland?”
“The Highlands are
closer to Heaven,” Giselle answered. “I’ll meet you there.” She crooked a gnarled finger at Isabelle, who stepped closer. “Remember this, child. Happiness is found in the journeying, not at the end of the road.” With those parting words, the old woman vanished as if she’d never been there.
Isabelle shook her head. At times, the old woman’s advice puzzled her.
Leaving her chamber, Isabelle hurried down the grand staircase to the main foyer and stepped outside onto the circular drive. Brilliant sunshine greeted her, and Isabelle couldn’t help thinking that this trip would prove auspicious for all of them. John would accept his daughter, which meant that she could resume her wifely duties.
There were two ducal carriages awaiting them. Gallagher drove one and a second groomsman drove the other. A third ducal retainer sat on the seat of the cart that carried their belongings.
When Lily waved at her from the window of the second carriage, Isabelle realized she would be riding alone with her husband. “Lily belongs with us.”
“She preferred riding with Juniper and Dobbs,” John told her. “I believe Juniper promised to tell her an interesting story about a princess and a frog.”
Isabelle smiled as she made herself comfortable in the carriage, but couldn’t help feeling disappointed by the girl’s defection. Not only did she sincerely like Lily, but the girl’s presence would have proved a distraction and given her several conversational topics. Now, she would be alone with her husband. They had nothing in common. Yes, she was a married lady but had almost no experience with men. What would she talk about for all of those long hours looming in front of her?
John smiled at her from his seat opposite her. Isabelle felt herself blushing. Out of habit, she touched her golden locket and turned her head to gaze out the window. “How long will it take to get to Scotland?”
“Approximately two days.”
“Only two days to travel to Scotland?”
“Traveling by sea is faster than traveling by land,” John told her. “Tomorrow afternoon we’ll reach Liverpool, where one of my ships is waiting. The morning after that we’ll arrive in Oban, which is a two-hour ride by coach to my estate.”
Silence descended upon them. The lapse in conversation made Isabelle feel uncomfortable. She tried to think of something to say and settled on the weather. “We have a wonderful day for a ride.”
“Yes, we do,” came his reply.
“It isn’t too hot or too cold.”
“Isabelle, look at me.” When she did, he asked, “What is bothering you?”
“We haven’t been alone much,” Isabelle began, but then hesitated. She dropped her gaze and confessed to her hands folded in her lap, “I’m feeling uncomfortable.”
John snapped his dark brows together. “I make you feel uncomfortable?”
“You misunderstand,” Isabelle said, shaking her head. “Being alone together makes me feel uncomfortable. What shall we talk about all the way to Scotland?”
“We can discuss anything you wish or nothing at all,” John answered. “Sometimes silence is welcome. Unless there is something else you’d like to say about the weather?”
Isabelle smiled. “I’ve said everything there is to say about that.”
“I have something I would discuss.”
John surprised her by rising from his seat and joining her. He placed an arm around her shoulders and then lifted her left hand to his lips. “I would like to apologize again for not telling you about the war. I was trying to make our wedding day perfect. Instead, my good intentions made things worse.”
Isabelle forgot about her nervousness. “I understand and appreciate your consideration.”
“Thank you, darling.” John planted a kiss on her cheek, sending a delicious chill down her spine.
“Do you think our brothers are in danger?”
“Civilians are usually safe,” he told her. “Jamie and Miles may even have begun their journey home already.”
“Why can’t everyone, including countries, just be friends?”
“Most people and countries do not possess your wisdom.” John winked at her and added, “Friendship begins at home, you know.”
“You mean charity begins at home.”
“I stand corrected.” John stretched his long legs out and relaxed against the leather seat.
“Do my ears deceive me?” Isabelle teased him. “I thought I heard you admit to being wrong about something.”
“Ah, my sweet Belle, how divinely naïve you are,” John said. “Men never admit to being wrong about anything.”
“I swear never to tell another soul,” Isabelle said, casting him an unconsciously flirtatious smile.
His expression became serious. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Isabelle looked at him and waited.
“Will you share my bedchamber at the inn and at my estate in Scotland?” John asked. “To do otherwise would be an embarrassment to me. The Scots are quite old-fashioned about such things.”
Isabelle felt the heated blush rising upon her cheeks. She couldn’t very well say no to his request. He was her husband, the man who had saved her from marriage with Nicholas deJewell. Perhaps, sharing his bed each night would give her the opportunity to persuade him to acknowledge his daughter. Their close proximity each night would encourage that wifely duty she’d enjoyed performing.
“Yes, I will share your bedchamber,” Isabelle answered.
“Thank you.”
Isabelle felt her spirits soaring at her progress, and making conversation wasn’t difficult at all. She pointed out the reddish-purple bull thistle and bright blue chicory along the roadside. Passing an open meadow, she spotted the rich yellow flowers of Aaron’s rod, and when their coach crossed a bridge over a stream, she had him looking for blue irises.
Arriving in Stafford at the supper hour, they stopped for the night at the Purple Peacock Inn. John, Isabelle, and Lily sat at one table, while Dobbs and Juniper sat at another. Gallagher and his two groomsmen had sidled up to the bar after bedding the horses down for the night.
Supper consisted of roasted beef and savory pudding. Lily ate two helpings of beef and pudding, and soon her eyelids began to droop.
When Isabelle gestured to Juniper, John said, “Go with them, and I’ll join you later.”
Relief surged through Isabelle, who’d begun to feel awkward about undressing in front of him. Saying she would share his chamber was easier than doing it.
After bidding good night to Lily and Juniper, Isabelle went to her own chamber. The room was clean and comfortable, though a far cry from the luxury of Avon Park.
Before undressing, Isabelle perched on the edge of the bed and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She felt more nervous than the evening of her debut into society. Would her husband want her to resume her wifely duty that evening?
Isabelle realized her husband would be returning to their chamber. She leapt off the bed and undressed hurriedly. Leaving only the one candle burning on the table, she slid into bed and yanked the coverlet up to her chin.
Staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, Isabelle clutched the coverlet tightly until she heard the door creaking open. She snapped her eyelids shut and willed her hands to relax their death grip on the coverlet.
When Isabelle heard the faint rustling sounds of her husband undressing, curiosity almost got the best of her, but she summoned her reserves of inner strength and refused herself even one quick peek.
Isabelle felt him roll onto his side away from her. Apparently, her husband did not intend to exercise his conjugal rights. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Pleasant dreams, wife.”
“How did you know I was awake?”
The bed creaked as John rolled over and gazed down into her face. Lord, her husband was bare-chested. Making matters worse, the dim light from the candle across the room accentuated his magnificent virility.
John gave her a lazy smile. “Sleep etches peace across a person’s express
ion, not anxiety.”
“I have no worries.”
“Correct, darling. I would never force you into lovemaking.” John said, and dropped a kiss on her lips. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready. I am content to sleep beside you for now.”
His topic of conversation heated her cheeks.
“You need not blush.”
“I am not blushing.” Isabelle realized how ridiculous she sounded. Her husband could see the stain on her cheeks, and now he was smiling at her lie.
“Traveling has wearied me,” he said. “I would only embarrass myself tonight.”
“Pleasant dreams, then,” Isabelle said, innocent of his meaning.
John turned his back on her. “Sleep, Isabelle. We leave at dawn.”
The morning came too quickly. As if she were sleepwalking, Isabelle splashed water onto her face and changed into her traveling gown. She was too damn tired to care if her husband saw her bare flesh, though she did perk up a little after breakfasting with Lily. The little girl’s excitement was contagious.
Again, Lily insisted on riding with Juniper and Dobbs. Isabelle was glad that the child and her new nanny were getting along, but couldn’t understand the reason she didn’t want to ride with them.
“I didn’t realize that Juniper and Lily had become such good friends,” Isabelle said, unable to mask the hurt tone.
“I heard Juniper say she knew a story about a princess and a pea,” John said, sitting beside her.
“A pea, did you say?” Isabelle stifled a yawn. “I never heard that one. Perhaps, I should ride with—”
“Do not even consider leaving this coach.” John put his arm around her and drew her against his body. “Lean against me and sleep.”
Too tired to argue, Isabelle did as she was told. With her head resting against his shoulder, the rocking of the coach lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Their entourage reached Liverpool as the afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the road. Though impressed by the sight of her husband’s ship, Isabelle was too tired from traveling to inspect it. She, Juniper, and Lily ate a light meal and retired to their respective cabins.
Enchanting the Duke Page 20