Page 40 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

She nodded her head solemnly. “Alas, your daughter speaks the truth. Frankly, I am just impressed she didn’t make me out to be some sort of sob story, for I would prefer if it did not come across that way.”

“And your father,” His Grace continued, “was planning on sending you to a nunnery? To avoid the scandal?”

She clicked her tongue. “Another truth. Two for two.”

“Which is why you ran away,” he pressed, sensing that he was being given an opening to do such a thing, “finding yourself on my grandmother’s doorstep.”

“It seems that nothing has been left out,” she chuckled. “Unless you wish for me to detail the last two years spent with your grandmother? I promise you there are some stories there that will make your hair curl.”

“No, no, I prefer to imagine,” he laughed. “Forgive me for saying, but you seem to be taking it all rather well. I know if such a thing was to happen to Isabella… well, I do not know what I would do. But if she ran away as you did…” He hesitated. “I think I would tear the world apart looking for her. With worry is my meaning.”

To that, Caroline frowned… and for a moment he could see a look behind her eyes that spoke of worry, a suggestion that she was putting on this air of humor to cover for something. Likely, how right Frederick was.

“My father is not like you,” she said simply… a little vaguely, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Hopefully, he does not care where I have gone.”

“That is not…” Frederick leaned back. “That cannot be true. Surely, he must be worried.”

“Worried?” she laughed bitterly. “Angry, more like. Tearing the world apart for a different reason.”

“But—”

“No, no,” she cut him off, raising both eyebrows at him in warning. “You asked your question, so now, I get to ask mine.”

He knew what was coming, and his stomach twisted as was to be expected. “Which is…?”

“I have not asked Isabella because I did not think it was something that she wished to speak of. But she has mentioned her mother a few times in passing, never actually saying what happened to her. Where she is or why she left. Forgive me, but I was hoping you might…” She bit into her lip. “I would very much like to know. If that is all right?”

If she had asked him this just an hour ago, he would have denied her. A few days ago, and he might have snapped at her, for that was what usually happened when Frederick’s wife was mentioned. Followed, of course, by pain and misery and regret.

But this wasn’t an hour ago. It wasn’t a few days ago. It was here and now, and for that reason, Frederick felt comfortable enough to tell Miss Dowding the truth, knowing that for once it might not break him.

“You know that I was married,” he began with a sigh, making sure to keep his rhythm as they danced. The tempo was still fast paced, contrasting greatly with the sorrowful story he was about to tell. “And that Isabella was the product of this marriage.”

“I had guessed,” she tittered.

“Sadly, Isabella was the only good to come from that marriage…” He tried to keep his voice from turning bitter. “I thank God every day that she came into my life, and nothing will change that. Only, deep down, a small part of me wishes that when I think of Isabella, I did not have to pair it with what may have been the worse years of my life.”

Miss Dowding’s brow creased. “It was that bad?”

“My wife hated me,” he sighed, looking away. “Despised me, more like. And she was not shy in letting me know it. In fact, I suspect the only reason that she stayed around as long as she did was so that she could give birth, hoping most likely that Isabella was a boy and her duty to me would be done.”

“Stayed around?” she asked, her voice hesitant. “What does that…” She trailed off when she saw the look in Frederick’s eye. “Oh no.”

“Isabella believes that her mother died due to sickness,” he said, voice cracking. “It is easier on her, so please do not begrudge me. The truth is…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She killed herself. She killed herself because of the hate she bore me. So much loathing that even the birth of her daughter was not reason enough to stay her hand.”

“Your Grace…” Her chin wobbled, and he could see the pain in her eyes. “I am so?—”

“Do not say you are sorry,” he cut her off. “I have heard that enough from people who are most decidedly not sorry. I am sad for what happened, but as awful as that marriage was, it brought me Isabella. So, for that, I am grateful.” He hated speaking of his ex-wife. Partly it was anger for what had happened and partly it was guilt, for he could not escape the feeling that he was to blame, even if he did not want it.

“And that is why…” She hesitated at the question, a look on her face that suggested she was about to go too far.

“Speak your question,” he commanded of her, making sure to smirk so that she might see he was not angry.

“Isabella,” Miss Dowding started carefully, refusing to look up and meet his eyes. “That is why you are so harsh with her?”

“Am I?” he asked. “Harsh?”

She scoffed. “I was being kind in my wording, Your Grace. Some might say that you are rather, how best to put this? Strict. And then some. It just seems a tad overzealous is my thinking.” And then she added quickly, “Forgive me for saying.”

---