Page 29 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“She has taught me much!” Isabella cried. “Not just the pianoforte but… but… but…”

“It is all right, Isabella; do not feel the need to defend Miss Dowding. I am sure she is doing her best.”

Why did he enjoy poking at her like this? He could feel her glare fixed on him as if she expected to shoot fire from her eyes. And it wasn’t that she was upset, for he did not think anything he said could upset her. It was more that she was rueful, a sort of fury that only he could bring out in her.

And, dammit, how he reveled in the sensation of it.

Even now, as she glowered, Frederick hoped that she might do as she was known to and respond with a scathing insult that he might rise to. A chance for him to bear down on her, to assert himself, to be reminded of how it had felt the last time the two had spoken. Just to think of it… he felt his pulse quicken, his mouth turn dry, and his eyes wander over her body which he wanted to reach out and grab and?—

His eyes went wide, and he looked away, careful not to let his mind wander to places it simply could not.

“It is quite all right, Isabella,” Miss Dowding spoke evenly. She stepped around George and walked toward where Frederick was standing in front of the pianoforte. “You must remember, most men cannot do more than one or two things well, so do not expect your father to believe how quickly your education is coming along. Likely, I suspect that in a few weeks you will be smarter than he is.”

Isabella’s face dropped.

“I suppose that ruling the world is one of these things?” Frederick shot back. “Forgive me if my skills with the pianoforte leave something to be desired.”

“That would make the other talent of yours riding your horse, yes?” Miss Dowding continued pleasantly, as if they were having a normal conversation. “So, now that we have that problem solved, if you need help putting your shoes on of the morning, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Ha!” his grandmother cackled.

His daughter, however, could not have looked more shocked. And fearful. And confused. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Her head swiveled between them as if she had no idea where to look… or if she wished to.

Frederick could feel that same sensation from before rising inside of him. Body running hot, shaking. Heat gathering between them. He found himself grateful that there were others in the room for all he wished to do right now was take a holdof Miss Dowding, pull her close, growl a warning in her ear, and then, if she insisted on badgering him, shut those lips of hers in a way that had already proven itself effective.

“And you are yet to demonstrate one thing that you do well,” he responded somewhat coolly. “Forgive me if I do not take my daughter’s word at your supposed talents.”

She snorted. “A demonstration then?” She fixed him in a glare.

“I was just going to suggest it.” He held that glare, refusing to break it.

Her eyes flashed rage, and she turned on her heel, face softening immediately as she looked at his daughter. “Isabella, would you like to show your father what I have spent all morning teaching you?”

“N - now?” Isabella squeaked.

“You do not have to,” Frederick assured her. “The blame will not fall on you.” A quick smirk at Miss Dowding. “That, I promise you.”

“He is right,” Miss Dowding said which surprised him. “You do not have to do anything that you do not wish. But…” A caring smile, and her voice became encouraging. “… I know you can. After how well you played for me this morning, surely you wish to show your father? I know he will be as proud of you as I was.”

Isabella’s face grew determined, and she nodded her head. Then she hurried to where his grandmother sat, who was already standing and moving away. She was shaking, clearly nervous, but she steeled herself as she flipped through the sheets of music, brow furrowed, eyes set.

Watching her, Frederick felt a conflict raging within that he had not expected.

On the one hand, he wanted Miss Dowding to fail. To see her fall and then hold it over her as a sign that he was right about her all along would be a victory so very sweet. Perhaps even use this as an excuse to dismiss her, find someone else to teach his daughter, remove himself from temptation once and for all.

And yet, on the other hand…

He desperately wanted his daughter to succeed. She had struggled for some time with the pianoforte, not a natural musician, confidence being what held her back. But it was an admirable skill to have, one that any lady of the ton would be glad for. And if she was to succeed here, showing how far she had come… a lump grew in his throat with pride at the mere thought.

She began to play soon after she had settled. Awkwardly at first, for she was clearly nervous, but she soon fell into rhythm, the melody flowing from her fingers as if she was born to it. And as she did, Frederick could see her confidence growing: she sat up straighter, she smiled to herself, she even laughed, such was her delight.

Watching her, Frederick could not believe he had even considered wanting her to fail. Dammit, he was so proud of her in that moment he could have cried.

“Told you…” Miss Dowding stood beside him, arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched Isabella.

He might have responded with a scathing remark. He might have defended himself. Heck, he might have scoffed and doubled down on his comment earlier about how learning the pianoforte was but one of many skills expected of her. But at that moment, none of that seemed important.

“You were right,” he said simply, still watching his daughter, unable to keep himself from smiling. “She is wonderful.”

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