Page 7 of The Duke and the Accidental Bride

“If we must.” Isabella forced herself not to look at the Duke, doing her best to instill herself with some much needed confidence.

“Before we begin,” the Duke started, falling in beside her but careful not to get too close.... strangely, in fact, how he walked beside her but away at the same time. “About tonight. You are not to speak unless asked a direct question. Is that understood?”

Isabella frowned. “I... surely, you are not serious?”

“I wish for tonight to be as drama free as possible,” he continued. “You will sit where I tell you. You will speak when I ask it of you.And you will agree with whatever is said. If we are lucky, that will be enough to satisfy and no untoward or probing questions will be asked of us.”

“And if they are?”

“Then I shall answer them,” he said. Quickly then, he hurried forward and stepped in front of Isabella, cutting her off. Like a tree springing up in the middle of the path, it was all she could do not to crash headfirst into him. “I know that you are not happy with what you have been asked to do.”

“Asked?” she scoffed. “That implies I had a choice.”

The Duke glared a warning at her. “This is not a game, Miss Gouldsmith. And I am not trying to play one. Remember what I said last week about consequences for one’s own actions? If at any time you feel the need to...” His eyes flicked over her. “To say something which you are not certain of, think of that and then think very hard if the consequences will be worth the outcome.”

Still standing before her, still looking down at her, she could feel him trying to impose his will. Again, she got the sense that he was not a man who was used to not getting his way and the mere fact he was forced to beg as he was, had him reaching the end of his patience.

Isabella, having finally gotten control of herself, met the Duke’s warning glare and matched it. She looked up at him, raised her chin, and forced herself not to look away. She hated beingtold what to do. And she hated being treated like a child – an imposition! As if she was to blame for any of this.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a flattering smile. “I will do as asked. You need not fear.”

He narrowed his eyes, a final warning. Then, he nodded once and stepped back around her so that he was by her side. “Shall we...” He held out a hand, leading her forward.

“We shall.” She straightened and began back across the foyer, toward the dining room.

“And by the way...” Walking beside her, she saw his eyes flick over her body and a slight smile work up the side of his face. “Nice dress.”

“I actually know your mother,” His Grace’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Fangsdale, said pleasantly as she had a sip of wine. “How is she? It has been years since I last spoke with her.”

“She is...” Isabella glanced at His Grace who nodded once. “She is doing well, thank you for asking.”

“I knew your father a little also,” the Duchess continued. “Such a shame what happened. Even after all of this time, I am sure that you miss him dearly.”

“I do,” Isabella said. She would have liked to have a sip of wine herself, but the Duke had not allowed her to have any. “My mother also, of course. She might pretend that she has moved on, it has been ten years now. But I know that she misses him.”

“They were happy then?” the Duchess asked curiously.

“I believe they were.”

She nodded her understanding, sighing as if saddened by it. “It is so rare nowadays to find love in marriage. And for it to be cut short like that, why, I cannot think of anything worse.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“I understand too that you have two sisters? An older sister who... now, who did she marry again?” The Duchess bit her lip. “Remind me, won’t you?”

“Mother...” His Grace looked at his mother. “Will you please stop with all the questions. Miss Gouldsmith has answered quite enough of them.”

“Oh, well excuse me for wishing to better know the woman who has stolen my son’s heart.” She scoffed and had another sip of wine. “What on earth was I thinking.”

“I had hoped that tonight might be spent speaking about other things,” His Grace said evenly. “And Miss Gouldsmith has been more than patient with you.”

“Patient!” the Duchess cried and looked at Isabella. “He acts as if I have been hounding you! I do hope you speak with your own mother in far softer tones than my son does with me? Not that it would be very hard to do so.”

“Mother...”

The dinner was an awkward affair to say the least.

When His Grace had spoken of it earlier, he had made it seem as if there would be a whole host of guests in attendance, enough that Isabella would be able to shrink back and disappear if she at any point felt overwhelmed or her tongue began to run away with her.

---