Page 24 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

Caroline looked at her flatly. “No. But are you?”

“Ha!” Isabella laughed. “Father does not scare me.” She tried to look brave but withered under Caroline’s cocked eyebrow. “Well… not always. But I can do it! I know I can! And he will be so happy if he sees. He always said that my pianoforte skills needed work. My last governess was hopeless at teaching me.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh, she was good at other things. Only musically, she was not so great.” She pushed her lips together. “Not that it would have made much of a difference…” Suddenly, she bowed her head, and her shoulders slumped. “Perhaps I should practice some more before showing him. I do not want him to think that you are not teaching me properly. What if he makes you leave like the other ones?”

Caroline chuckled. “I do not think there is much chance of that happening.” That was one thing she was certain of.

“But he will!” she protested, sounding worried. “He always does. It is as if he takes pleasure from it.”

“I am sure that is not true. He just…” She paused, making certain that she did not say anything negative to Isabella about her father. That simply would not do. “He wants the best for you.”

“I suppose so…” Isabella sighed, shoulders slumping further. “I just wish he was not so harsh, sometimes. Oh sure, when we are not talking of my education, he is as loving as I could hope for. A few years ago, especially, I do not think I ever saw him yell. Not once.”

“Really?” Caroline frowned, finding that hard to imagine.

“Really,” Isabella said. “It is only recently as I have grown older that he has started to turn into a grumpy old man. And while I still love him—I do,” she insisted, making sure that Caroline could see it, “sometimes, I wish he was the same as he used to be. I miss him.”

Caroline rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “He does love you, still. Anyone can see it.”

“I know…”

“And take my word for it, a father who loves his daughter like that is a rare thing. I should know.”

“Oh?" Isabella perked up. “What was your father like? Forgive me for asking, but I have not heard you mention him. And grandmother told me not to be nosy when I asked.” She grimaced. “And now, I am thinking there is a reason for that. Sorry…”

Caroline’s mind flashed back to images of her own father. Not those from her childhood, for they were pleasant memories from what she could recall. Rather, the recent memories, the ones that had led her to run away in the first place. She could still hear her mother screaming… she could still remember the way she had cried when she had seen it… memories that brought physical pain to her being, such that she clutched at her stomach as if someone had stabbed her.

“Caroline…” Isabella asked softly, “are you all right? I did not mean to pry?—”

“No, no.” Caroline shook the memories away and forced herself to forget. “I just had a cramp.”

“A cramp?”

Caroline chuckled. “When you are a little older, perhaps. But to answer your question, my father was loving in most of the ways that mattered. But he was also a man of the peerage, and when my husband-to-be left me at the altar, he seemed to forget that it was his daughter he was dealing with, seeing me as a nuisance that he had to had solve somehow. I still believe he loves me…” She thought again to her real father, wondering if those words were true. “I suppose he just forgot that.”

She hated lying. To Isabella of all people. But she had no choice, for the truth would not only put her own life in danger, but that of everyone she knew…

“Enough of that.” Caroline straightened up and indicated back to the pianoforte. “You wish to impress your father? Try impressing me first.”

“I want to show father,” she complained.

“One more time, and if you get it perfect, we will show him.”

“Today?”

Caroline hesitated. “Yes. Today.”

Three days, and Caroline had done well to avoid His Grace… a trend that she would very much like to continue with. Even supper had been taken without his indomitable presence as for three nights in a row he had been too busy to join them in eating. And each night as Caroline sat herself down, bracing for his appearance only to learn that he was not coming, she would breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that once again she was able to get through the day without seeing him.

It was easy for Caroline to convince herself the reason for this avoidance was an avid dislike for the man. He was, after all, cruel and rude and arrogant and smug and cold and dispassionate and… choose your adjective, for they all fit. A more horrid man she had rarely encountered. And the way he spoke to her was enough to make her blood boil just to think.

And yet…

The kiss that they shared still lingered in her mind. The way it made her feel whenever she chose to remember it. Her body would flush. Her stomach would flutter. Her mouth would salivate, and more.

He had been commanding in a way she had loved. The threats he had made, and the implications behind them, had her tossing of a night to know he slept so close to where she did. She did not wish to feel this way, but as she had learnt the hard way, rarely did one get what they wished for.

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