Page 1 of The Duke and the Accidental Bride

Chapter One

“Itold you we should have brought an umbrella! I knew it!”

“Oh, it is notthatbad, Martha,” the Honorable Isabella Gouldsmith laughed as she hurried down the driveway, holding a hand above her head in a vain effort to blot out the rain. “Rather trivial in the grand scheme of things, wouldn’t you say?”

Behind her sat the carriage which Isabella had just arrived in. The journey had been beset by gathering storm clouds and high winds, holding off on rain until the second that Isabella arrived. And where it might have been smart to have turned back and sought shelter in the safety of the carriage... Isabella was stubborn to a fault.

“You’re all wet!” Isabella’s elderly maid and chaperone, Martha, rushed ahead of Isabella, heading for the steps which led to the front door of the manor. “And your uncle will not appreciate –”

“I do not care what my uncle thinks,” Isabella cut her off, hand still held above her head; an action which did little as the rain was falling thick and fast and, most importantly, wet. “I am infinitely more concerned withwhyhe has asked me to be here today.”

“Something you could also have found out whilst dry. Oh, this rain!”

“Little we can do about it now,” Isabella chuckled at her maid’s distress. “And look how wet you are. Here.” She swept in and attempted to shield the elderly maid.

“Do not worry about me.” Martha exclaimed. “You are the one who –”

“Does not even wish to be here.”

“Is getting wet!”

“Let us get inside then, shall we? Unless it is somehow also raining indoors.”

“Of course!” Martha was up the steps in a flash, fist already raised before her as she proceeded to hammer on the closer door. “Oh, come on now!” She knocked harder. “Where is he!”

“I should not be surprised,” Isabella muttered, beginning to shake a little as she felt her dress becoming soaked through. And that wasn’t to speak of what the rain was surely doing to hermake-up! “Knowing Uncle Leopold, he is standing on the other side of the door right now, taking pleasure in the knowledge that we have been caught in this weather.”

“Miss! You should not say such things,” Martha gasped, again knocking loudly on the door.

Isabella snorted. “A harsh truth is still a truth, Martha. And my uncle is nothing if not deserving of such an observation. I would not even be here right now if not for his nature. Antagonistic and petty.”

“It is a strange thing,” Martha said, still hammering away on the door. Her blows were loud but the rumbling of thunder which seemed to shake the earth beneath them did much to drown them out. “His inviting you here, is my meaning. And you are certain you do not know the reason?”

“You read the same letter as I.” Isabella had forgone the effort to block out the rain and was now rubbing her arms to keep herself from catching a chill. Soaked to the bone in what was an auspicious beginning to what was an auspicious meeting.

“Even still...” Martha clicked her tongue. “Lord Langham should not have requested to meet with you without first asking it of your mother. He should know better.”

“Ah, now who is badmouthing my uncle,” Isabella said with a wry smile.

Martha’s eyes widened and she began to stammer. “I did not mean – I am simply pointing out that – it is proper for --”

“Oh, I know what you meant.” Isabella waved the poor woman down. “And I agree with you. It is most peculiar. Alas, it is not as if I have much of a choice...” As she rubbed her arms, Isabella leaned back and looked upwards, observing the front of the closed-off manor as a sense of melancholy swept through her which had nothing to do with the chill.

Langham Estate always brought with it feelings of sadness and loss, even despair. As a young girl, it had been Isabella’s home, her late father’s before her, and before that his father’s and so on. But recently, just a few years ago now, her uncle had kicked her and her mother and sisters out without warning, wanting it for himself.

Leopold Langham was a cruel man. Not in ways that were typically evil, more selfish and self-aggrandizing. When Isabella’s father had died nearly a decade ago, her uncle had inherited his title and his wealth, leaving Isabella's mother to rely upon him as if they were stray dogs begging for scraps from the kennel master.

Not a true monster, he gave them enough to survive on, while ensuring at the same time that they knew their place and if he so wished it, he could end them without losing a wink of sleep.

Needless to say, when Isabella received a summons from her uncle, demanding that she present herself on his doorstep at thishour without informing her mother, she did not ask why or to what cause. She simply made sure that she was there.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Martha cried out. With both hands wide open, she began to beat on the door as if she was trying to knock it down. “Hello” she wailed. “Hello! Is anyone --”

The door swung open suddenly to reveal a young manservant who Isabella did not recognize. He eyed the two of them with a sense of dispassion, even trepidation when he saw how soaking wet they were. No sense, however, of apology for having kept them waiting.

“Welcome,” he said as he stepped to the side and gestured for them to enter. “Lord Langham has been expecting you.”

“It is about time!” Martha muttered. She stepped back and wrapped an arm around Isabella as she shepherded her inside and out of the rain. “I never in all my life...”

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