Page 41 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

Frederick nodded his understanding, not at all upset at the question, for he was feeling far more comfortable with Miss Dowding than he could have possibly imagined. “You are right, strict is perhaps the term I would use. But it is not meant to be malicious.”

“I did not say it was.”

“I want what is best for her,” he said rightly. “That is all I wish for. You were fortunate not to meet my father…” A bitter chuckle. “A cold man if there ever was one. The way he raised me would make the way I treat Isabella look lax, even uncaring. I want her to be happy, Miss Dowding, I do. But I also wish for what is best, and I suppose that something…” He could not helpbut smile at the admittance. “… sometimes, I may go a tad too far.”

“Only a tad?” she grinned.

“Careful,” he warned jokingly. “I did just tell you a heartfelt story about my deceased wife, remember? Surely, I am owed some sympathy.”

Miss Dowding did not speak for a few moments after that. Brow furrowed. Face pained. She studied Frederick in a way that suggested she was seeing him for the first time. He tried to appear brave, as if the story did not crush him, but he could only do so much.

Why had Frederick not wished to marry since the death of his wife? Driving a woman to suicide, knowing you were to blame, was as good a reason as any.

“Let us not dwell on that,” Miss Dowding said eventually. “It is too nice a day for such stories.”

“I could not agree more,” he chuckled just as the music began to slow. Still holding her tight, they matched pace as they came to a gentle stop. And once they did, Frederick did not let Miss Dowding go, and she did not step away. They stayed close, holding the other, alone in the world it seemed for the way they stared…

“Say,” he began, if for no other reason than to break the tension, “would you care for another drink?”

“I thought you would never ask,” she said with a smile.

He stepped back, keeping a hold of her hand, and led her back into the garden party. As he did, he caught sight of his grandmother watching him, a knowing smile on her lips, but Frederick did not care. If anything, he relished it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It was early in the evening, and Frederick found himself alone in his drawing room. The garden party was still in full-swing, and even with the door closed, he could still hear it. Strangely, a small part of Frederick wished to go back outside and join in the festivities—a truly bizarre notion, he knew. And the reason for that desire was even stranger.

He had to get away from Miss Dowding. It was as simple as that. They had been drinking together, somehow enjoying their conversation with little to no argument or hostilities, and Frederick was forced to concede how terrible a situation it was that he had found himself in. Worse than anything he might imagine.

Frederick could not afford to feel that way around Miss Dowding. He could not let himself succumb to not only the temptation that besieged him whenever he thought of her but to simply enjoy her company was more than he could bear. It was dangerous was why. Fraught with consequence. And what was more… guilt.

Since his daughter had not even been old enough to speak, Frederick had known that he would one day need to take a wife again. It was expected and proper, and he really had no choice in the matter. But after his last marriage, and how tragically it had ended, he had to be careful with whom he got close to and whom he chose as a mate. Deep down, he believed that whoever that was would end up hating him as his last wife did which would only lead to… well, nothing good.

And while it was far too early to consider Miss Dowding in this way, he knew it was better to be safe than sorry. If not for his own sake, for hers.

So, he disappeared when she paid visit to the washroom, knowing that such an act would annoy her enough that she would likely leave it be, happy to simmer with anger as it would serve as a reminder that he was no good, that they were no good together, and she would do better to simply avoid him.

A glass of brandy in hand, he sipped it lightly, content to wait until the party ended, and he might retire to his room without being seen or?—

A knock at the door had him sitting up. Frederick froze, careful not to make a noise.

“Your Grace…” The voice was unmistakable, and it had Frederick nearly calling out as he felt that pull and desire begin to bubble within. But he held his tongue, begging that she might leave. “Your Grace,” she called again. “Are you there…”

A moment’s pause. Certain that she was going to give up. Only… no. The door cracked open, and Caroline poked her head inside. She saw him sitting there and grinned at the sight.

“Now, if I did not know any better, I would have guessed you were trying to hide from me.” A little titter, and she stepped inside.

“Perhaps you do know better,” he said shortly, forcing himself to be stern and curt. “For why else would I be here?”

She paused at that, half-way into the room, the harshness of his remark catching her by surprise. “Well… I suppose I assumed that one of Esther’s guests was trying to force his niece upon you, so you decided to go into hiding.” She laughed awkwardly, seeming to pray that he was only joking and would pick up on the humor.

“No, you were right the first time.” He levelled a glare at her. “I suggest that you follow those instincts of yours before you get yourself into trouble.”

He needed her to leave. He did not care how it happened, what he had to say to see her turn and walk away. That she would be gone from here was good enough, better if she left with her tail between her legs and confirmed finally that he was a no-good sort who was better to be avoided. They had started off hating one another, and barring this single day, there was no reason it should not continue.

Things were just safer that way.

“Well, that is not very nice.”

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