Time for a Duke

by Ruth J. Hartman

  "You did?" Can it be true?

  He nodded. "And you?"

  Izzy felt heat creep up her face, certain she was red from her chin to her forehead. Thankfully, Charles wouldn't be able to see her clearly in the darkness. As if using her last breath to utter the words, she whispered, "Yes, Charles, I feel the same."

  As quick as lightning, Charles pulled her onto his lap, holding her in a tight, strong embrace. His lips claimed hers, devouring her with his want. This was no chaste kiss, as the one before the ball. This was pure male need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. His breath, hot on her lips, warmed the rest of her body, though the air outside was frigid. In the darkness, she gasped as his fingers massaged beneath her collarbone. His hand drifted lower, pausing at the lace of her low neckline.

  The carriage bounced and slowed. This time, Charles didn't release her as when they'd pulled up in front of the ball.

  Izzy leaned away. "Charles, the driver…"

  He pulled her close. "I've paid him well. He'll not speak of it."

  She buried her face in his neck.

  He whispered into her hair. "You're uncomfortable."

  Izzy nodded.

  "Come, then. Let's go inside."

  He helped her down from the carriage, never letting his hand leave at least one part of her. She felt his warmth either on her back or shoulders the whole walk to the door. As they passed the driver, Izzy ducked her head. Maybe the driver wouldn't say anything, but he'd heard, and possibly even seen things. Private things.

  Charles had Izzy wait on the porch until he made sure no one was in the lobby or den. They still needed to keep her hidden from view. She darted a glance up when the hinges of the door squeaked as he reopened it.

  "It's safe. I see no one about." He stretched out his hand, inviting her in. "Let's get you to your room."

  She giggled. "My room. It's not as if I'm—"

  He leaned toward her, looking as if the weight of the universe bore down on him. "Staying? Oh, Isabella. I wish you were staying. We could—"

  Izzy heard a shuffle from somewhere in the back of the house. She grabbed his arm. "What was that?"

  He pivoted and stood motionless, listening. Something shuffled again. Charles took her hand again and gave her a slight tug. "Up the stairs, quickly. Someone is coming."

  Holding her skirt above the steep steps with her other hand was difficult enough, but trying to run in it as well seemed downright dangerous. What if she got tangled up in all the folds of the hem and took a tumble? Then everyone would definitely know she was here. It would be hard to explain a strange woman lying at the foot of the stairs with two broken legs and her skirt hiked up over her head.

  Izzy released a large gulp of air when they made it unscathed to the top. When she hurried toward her bedroom, she almost collided with Charles when he stopped to open the door. Polished floors could be deadly to a woman wearing slippers.

  "Hurry inside."

  They slipped inside the room and Charles pushed the door shut with a soft click. Both breathed sighs of relief while trying to catch their breath. Izzy giggled.

  The corners of his mouth turned up. "What's amusing, my dear Isabella?"

  "Just thinking of us skulking around your house. I feel like a spy."

  "Do you now? He grinned. "And just what would a spy do in her bedroom with another spy?"

  It was at that moment Izzy realized her situation. Here she was in her bedroom, alone with Charles, and a great big bed stood behind them. They'd been alone before, but Sarah had always been their lookout, never being far away. Now, though it was just the two of them. Well, three, if Izzy counted the bed. And yes, she was counting the bed.

  She took a step back, away from the gorgeous duke. "Um, Charles, maybe we should—"

  He stepped forward. "Oh, yes, I definitely think we should."

  She took another step back. "No, no I didn't mean—"

  He stepped toward her. "Are you quite sure? I seem to remember you saying…"

  Taking another half step back, she put her hands on his chest, pushing him. "Saying what? I didn't—"

  He grasped her hands, which were still on his chest. His eyes darkened. Izzy's mouth went dry, as her gaze lowered to his lips. She knew how he kissed, knew what his lips tasted like. But they shouldn't. They couldn't…

  Stepping backward again, her skirt swished against something hard. Oh no. The bed. She glanced behind her. Sure enough, the huge bed sat there, waiting. She swallowed. "I uh—"

  He moved closer to her until there wasn't any air between their chests and legs. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded. What had she gotten herself in to? As his lips lowered to hers, her last coherent thought was, hopefully no one will ever find out what we've done.

  Chapter Eight

  Charles had had the most delicious dreams. They involved him and Isabella and her great big bed. Kissing, hugging, rolling around in one large tangle. He stretched his arm over his head and opened his eyes to a curtain of hair. Long, dark hair. What?

  Pushing the hair away from his face, he angled a glance toward the hair's owner. Isabella! He peaked beneath the heavy covers. And she was naked. Another peak confirmed his next suspicion. He was naked as well. After scooting out away from her warm, enticing body, he slipped from the bed and found his trousers crumpled on the floor. Various articles of clothing were strewn about the room, looking as if someone had tossed them from a rapidly moving carriage. There was even a corset dangling by its tie from the top of a lantern.

  What had he done? Charles darted another glance at the bed and felt warmth through his core again. But looking at her now, how could he have resisted? A thought nearly knocked him flat as he edged closer to the door. He was in love with the beautiful temptress in the bed. Truly, deeply in love. His heart would break if she left now. Could he convince her to stay? First though, he needed to exit her room before anyone found him there. He could discreetly retrieve the rest of his clothes later when Isabella wasn't in the room.

  Charles opened the bedroom door as silently as he could and winced when it gave a stubborn squeak. He gritted his teeth, desperately hoping no one else was in the hallway. For he had no desire to sully Isabella's reputation.

  He slid around the doorframe into the hallway as he let out a breath. Charles seemed to be alone. Thankfully, no one else was—

  "Enjoy your evening, nephew?"

  Charles nearly came undone. Oh no. "Uncle Sebastian, M-Merry Christmas."

  "Same to you." Sebastian eyed Charles from head to bare feet. "How was the ball with Lady Isabella?"

  Charles gazed past his uncle, somewhere over the other man's shoulder. "Fine. Quite… nice."

  "I sense hesitation. Anything amiss?"

  "No, no." Hoping to divert his uncle from his present state of undress, he said, "You know how members of the ton can be."

  Sebastian nodded. "Ah, I see. Caused trouble for Lady Isabella, did they?"

  He shrugged. "Somewhat."

  Sebastian frowned. "What a shame."

  Why was his uncle still standing there? Didn't he have something else to do? Surely there was something having to do with the holiday that could occupy him. If nothing else, the man couldn't keep his hands out of the fresh pies their cook was sure to have made for this evening. Charles crossed his arms over his bare chest.

  "Feeling a draft, nephew?"

  Charles cleared his throat. "I, well…"

  "Any particular reason why you were coming out of a bedroom not your own, wearing no shirt and," he flicked a gaze down, "no boots?"

  How was Charles going to extricate himself from this mess? A better question was, how was he going to protect Isabella from scandal? "Listen Uncle—"

  The door pushed open an inch or so. "Charles? Are you out there?"

  Charles widened his eyes. Worse timing there could not have been.

  Isabella saw him, opened the door wider, and beamed. After she leaned farther out into the hallway, s
he spotted Sebastian. "Oh, hello." Her face flamed a bright red. She swallowed but said no more. At least she'd put on her nightgown.

  Sebastian crossed his arms. "Oh, I understand how things are to be, then."

  Charles rubbed his hand down his face. "Uncle, please."

  Sebastian held up a hand. "No, Charles. What's done is done. Meet me in the den when you are… appropriately attired."

  ****

  Izzy watched Sebastian stalk down the hallway toward the stairs. "What was that about?"

  Charles herded her back into the room. "Get dressed."

  Izzy frowned. "Excuse me? We spent the night doing, you know, and this is how you speak to me?"

  Charles stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

  Izzy nuzzled her face in Charles' neck. "You're forgiven. I know you weren't trying to be rude."

  Charles hugged her tighter. "Thank you. However, I was apologizing for something much larger than my comment."

  Izzy pulled away and peered up at him. "What do you mean? Do you regret—"

  "No! Never. But it does pain me that I allowed this to happen without making an honest woman of you first."

  "Then what?"

  Charles sighed and led her to the bed. Izzy raised her eyebrows. "Now? Again?"

  He seemed to realize where they stood. "Oh, no. Not as if I wouldn't like to… Here, have a seat."

  She huffed out a breath. What was going on? "Well?"

  Charles paced in front of her. Back and forth. Back and forth. He rubbed his hand down his face. Izzy recognized his gesture of frustration but didn't understand the cause.

  "Charles?"

  He stopped pacing and knelt before her. Taking her hand, he kissed her palm. "There's something you don't understand."

  She ruffled his hair with her other hand. "Then please, enlighten me, all right?"

  He nodded. "I know things must be vastly different where you come from, but here and now, there are shall we say, consequences to one's actions."

  Izzy widened her eyes. She hadn't even thought about birth control. That's what she got for letting her hormones take over. "Oh, Charles, what if I'm pregnant?"

  "Darling, yes, we need to think of the possibility, but that's not all."

  Izzy frowned. "Well, where I come from, there are concerns of certain, uh, diseases."

  He jerked his head up and stared at her. "No. It's not a concern, I assure you."

  She shrugged "That's good to know. And, not for me either. It's been so long since… well anyway, you were saying…"

  "Yes, here, another consequence of having relations before marriage is losing one's reputation. A lady must consider this."

  "Oh, is that all?" She flipped her hand through the air. "I'm not worried about it. Believe me, it's not a big concern where I come from."

  "But here, it is."

  "What are you saying?"

  He gazed down at her hand, which rested in his. "What I'm saying, Isabella, is, we must marry."

  "What?" She stood up so fast Charles tumbled backward and landed on his backside. Now she was the one who paced. "How ridiculous. That kind of thinking went out with the—" She swung around and stared at him. He was standing again, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Now she got it. "Oh."

  He let out a heavy sigh. "Now you understand why Uncle Sebastian was so demanding of me meeting him in the den."

  Izzy sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling if she didn't her legs would buckle. Now would not be a good time for another panic attack. "But, I planned on going back to my time in America anyway. So what does it matter?"

  He sat next to her on the bed. "I wish you would reconsider." He took her in his arms and pulled her close.

  "Why? I thought you understood I had to go back."

  "Because I love you."

  Tears rushed from her eyes. He loved her? She pulled away enough to see into his eyes. Yes, it was there. She could see it in the way he caressed her face with his gaze. He loved her! "Oh, Charles. I love you, too."

  His body relaxed, as if he'd held in a breath and released it. "You have made me so happy."

  "But I'm going home."

  "But you love me."

  She rubbed her fingers across his bare shoulders. "Yes, I do love you. That's why this is so hard."

  Charles frowned. "I don't understand. I thought—"

  "You thought I could stay here and we would get married?"

  "Yes."

  "But I still have my dream of being independent. To prove my father wrong."

  Charles swallowed, nodded, and stood. "As you wish. You can leave to pursue your dream." He walked to the door. Pivoting toward her once more, he tilted his head. "But you were my dream."

  He opened the door and left.

  ****

  Izzy sat on the bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Would they ever stop? Her heart was broken and it was her own fault. Charles wanted to marry her. He loved her. Why was she hanging onto the idea that she needed to do something to make her father proud? Was she being foolish to care anymore what he thought? If she and her father were face to face right now, and Izzy was financially independent, would he finally admit he was wrong?

  Izzy realized trying to please her father wasn't her dream. It was an obsession. Had she just thrown away real happiness with Charles for something that would never happen with her father, no matter how hard she tried?

  A soft knock sounded on the door. Charles? Izzy hurried so fast across the room she nearly tripped over the hem of her nightgown. She swung open the door with a wide grin on her face, but immediately sobered when the person standing there was Sarah.

  "Oh, Sarah. Come in." Izzy left the door open and returned to sit on the bed.

  Sarah curtsied. "Would my lady like to get dressed now?"

  Izzy shrugged. May as well. What else did she have to do today? "Yes, Sarah, that would be fine." Allowing the maid to help her out of the nightgown no longer seemed as strange as it used to. She'd still rather do it herself, but had grown accustomed to having Sarah around.

  Before Izzy left, she needed to work with Sarah a little more on her reading. The girl was indeed smart and was coming along well, but Sarah didn't want her to think she'd abandoned her without finishing their lessons. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. Sarah was wearing one of the new day dresses. Was it Izzy's imagination or was Sarah even prettier than she'd been before? The maid's blue eyes sparkled and her face held a pleasant expression. Maybe knowing she was well-dressed and could read for herself gave her some confidence.

  Izzy decided since Uncle Sebastian knew she was already in the house, it was silly to hide any longer in her room. She still wouldn't go outside, in case someone else would see her, but while in the house, she'd feel free to roam. It would be wonderful not to be confined to just a room or two anymore.

  Walking down the steps in the daylight seemed odd. A couple of maids opened their mouths, and their eyes widened at the sight of her, and then they scurried off toward the back of the house.

  At first, Izzy panicked. What if they told someone? Then she realized it didn't matter. She wasn't staying.

  Or was she? What if she could convince Charles to take her back? She could stay and they could be married. Suddenly, the notion her father would ever have been proud of her seemed pointless. She'd wasted so many years with the single-minded focus that she needed his approval and acceptance. Well no more.

  Izzy had a wonderful man right here who loved her and wanted to marry her. And she loved him just as much. She'd be crazy to give that up, no matter what time period and country they lived in. Suddenly anxious to tell Charles of her change of plans, she scurried down the rest of the steps. Having seen a large desk and bookcase in the den previously, she wondered if he spent a lot of his time there.

  Izzy knocked on the den door and then pushed it open when he called out to come in.

  "Charles?"

  "Isabella! What are you doing down here?"
He edged around his desk and hurried toward her.

  Her heartbeat raced. He's coming to embrace me. But her heart sank when he reached around her and closed the door. Taking a step back, he crossed his arms. "Why are you walking around the house during the day?"

  Izzy wanted to scream but controlled her anger. She'd come down to tell him of her change of heart, which was good news, and all he could do was scold her. Well she'd have her say. "Charles, I know you're angry, but there's something I need to say to you."

  His response was to lift an eyebrow. The tapping of his boot on the floor was just a bonus. Apparently, he wasn't going to talk so it was up to her. Well all right.

  "Charles, I've changed my mind. I'd like to stay. Here. With you."

  "Oh you've changed your mind, have you? How wonderful for you, Lady Isabella."

  Izzy placed her hands on her hips. "I thought this would be good news."

  "You did, did you? I guess you've forgotten not more than two hours ago you stomped my heart into bits. It is not something a man recovers from so quickly."

  "So there's a chance that you might."

  He flicked a hand in her direction. "Go away. I don't have time for you right now. With the time spent getting prepared for the ball and…" he flicked a gaze toward the ceiling where the bedrooms were "…other events, I've gotten behind in my work."

  "But Charles—"

  "Good day, Miss Hodgkin, since we both know you're no lady."

  Izzy fumed. She'd been dismissed, as if she were a servant. How dare he? Opening the door, she stepped into the hall. "We'll see who's dismissed." Using her full force, she slammed the door. The loud boom echoed through the whole downstairs.

  From the kitchen, Sebastian waddled out into the hall. "Lady Isabella? What are you doing?"

  She tapped her boot on the floor. "Showing my displeasure."

  He took her arm, guiding her toward the back of the house. "Come with me, dear. Since we're to be family, we may as well get acquainted." He thinks there's still going to be a wedding. Hadn't Charles told him she was leaving? She chewed on her lip. Well, let him think it. Maybe between the two of them, they'd convince Charles to change his mind.