Page 16 of The Duke and the Accidental Bride

She forced a smile and looked at him hopefully. “I know that what we have been doing was never meant to be anything more than what it is. And for that reason, I have kept my mouth shut. But Your Grace…” She stepped into him. “If you wish to marry, I do not see why you and I cannot…” She laughed nervously. “After all, have we not proven how well he get alone?”

Duncan could not have been more surprised by the offer. He and the viscountess got on well enough, and the physical nature of their relationship was enjoyable, but not once had he suspected that her feeling toward him extended beyond that. He had made it clear to her that his did not, anyhow.

It was a frustrating revelation if there ever was one. The reason he had begun this affair with the countess was specifically to keep things at a surface level and free from emotions Or so he had thought.

Gently, he pulled his arm free from her grasp. “I have enjoyed our time together. Truly, I have. But as is the way of life, all things must come to an end. I wish you well, Juliet. And I hope for you all the best. Good day.”

“But –”

“I said, good day.” He raised a warning eyebrow at her and, as he expected from one such as Juliet, she knew better than to fight him or embarrass herself by begging. She knew the type of man that he was, and she knew that he did not take well to argument.

And so it is done, and was not nearly as difficult, nor as painful as I had thought it might be.

Duncan climbed back atop his horse and left the countess in his wake. He could feel her eyes on him, and he could sense the tears in them, for she was justifiably upset. As for Duncan? He would miss their affair; he could not deny that. But as for being in love with Juliet? A laughable concept as Duncan did not have it in himself to fall in love with anyone.

One thing that did strike him, however, was how effortlessly that had been done. Juliet, for all her faults, knew better than to argue, and was in every way a perfectly submissive paramour, as Duncan preferred his lovers to be. He could not help but contrast her to his soon-to-be bride, Miss Gouldsmith, certain that such a conversation would not have gone nearly as well with her.

Miss Gouldsmith was a different case entirely. Argumentative. Combative. For some reason she was willing to fight him when most others he knew would not dare do such a thing. It was frustrating, to say the least, and it had forced him to rise to anger in ways that were.... that were regrettable to say the least.

Duncan did not like getting angry. And he certainly did not like using said anger to get his way. What he wanted was peace and calm and ease. All things that Miss Gouldsmith seemed intent on denying him.

There was another reason that Duncan did not like getting angry. And another reason that he especially did not like itwhere Miss Gouldsmith was concerned. He could not help but remember the way he had snapped and grabbed her the last time... unable to control himself, he had let his most base desires take over in ways that he knew could only lead to trouble.

Forcing those emotions to calm, he had managed to keep them contained – even if it had taken some serious effort. An effort that was made all the harder by that dress that Miss Gouldsmith had worn and the way she had spoken and that feeling that her combative nature brought up in his --

No!Duncan gave his head a shake, refusing to think of such things now.

This was dangerous, he knew. And after all Duncan had been through in this life, danger was the last thing he wanted. For his sake, as well as Miss Gouldsmith’s.

Chapter Six

It was the following day when Duncan found himself arriving at Greenfield Manor in London. A townhouse similar to that which Juliet lived in, but nowhere near as grand or opulent in design as that. It was far smaller, a little too close to the city, and without so much as a back garden or even a driveway leading to the front door.

Duncan had sent a letter to the Dowager Viscountess Langham yesterday, informing her of his intent to pay them a visit this morning. It was his assumption that Miss Gouldsmith had told her by now of their engagement plans, so it behooved Duncan to make his intentions known to her mother. As was proper.

However, when he arrived at their home at the hour he had instructed, he was surprised to find that there was nobody waiting to greet him. He sat in the carriage, annoyance building, eyeing the front door as he expected at least a butler to step outside.

Fifteen minutes of waiting and he realized this was folly.

“An auspicious beginning...” He muttered to himself as he approached the front door and knocked. And then waited. And then, after a few moments, knocked once more.

It was subtle but he could have sworn that inside he could hear a commotion of some sort... a wailing, perhaps? Screaming. He leaned in close to listen, brow scrunched tight, the noise inside building, only for the door to suddenly swing open.

“Your Grace!” It was the same elderly maid who had accompanied Miss Gouldsmith the previous week to Lord Langham’s home. “Our apologies! My mistress intended to greet you herself but has become distracted!” She was shouting the words in Duncan’s face, and for good reason.

The sounds coming from inside the manor were unlike any that Duncan had ever heard. It sounded like a woman screaming – but doing so because she was trying to be heard over another woman wailing as if in pain. Amongst that was shouting and yelling, stamping feet on wooden floorboards, and more screaming.

“Is this a bad time?” Duncan looked past the maid to see what on earth was going on.

“Not at all!” the maid assured him. She stepped to the side and waved him in. “Please, the viscountess is expecting you.”

Duncan hesitated before finally stepping over the threshold and inside. The door swung closed behind him, and the sounds of what were surely indicators that the world was about to end, grew even louder.

He was led down the hallway and into an open living space, the sounds growing louder the further in he walked. That was until they exploded upon him like a slap as he saw the source of the noise.

Not that he understood exactly what was going on.

“You cannot wear that dress!” a woman who could only be the viscountess shouted at her daughter, Miss Isabella Gouldsmith.

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