Page 47 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“Isabella…” Caroline sighed, pulling the little girl back to her. “I promise you that?—”

“Please do not tell him,” she then asked. “Please. Not yet. Not until… not until I have no choice but to do so.”

Caroline grimaced. “I do not know if that is such a good idea. He has a right to know.”

“He will just grow upset; I know he will. Please, Caroline.” She fixed Caroline with a pleading look, eyes wide and brimming with tears. Impossible to say no to. “I will tell him, of course. But not yet. Not until… until… until I am ready.”

It was a bad idea, Caroline knew. To keep a secret like this from His Grace… it could only lead to trouble. But alas, in the week or so that she had been Isabella’s governess, Caroline had felt a kinship form with the sweet little girl, and she relished it for what it was. A friendship that she could not imagine, a bond she did not wish to break. If Isabella wished to keep this secret, then Caroline would do as asked.

“All right,” she sighed, stroking Isabella’s head. “If that is what you wish.”

“Thank you!” she threw herself at Caroline. “Thank you!”

“But I must insist that we tell him before this time next month,” she said rightly. “Otherwise, he will certainly find out for himself, and that is a conversation I am certain you do not want.”

“I will,” she assured Caroline. “I promise.”

The little girl was still covered in blood, and now, hugging Caroline as tightly as she was, so was Caroline. Luckily, she had not bathed yet this morning and was still wearing her gown from bed, so at least an outfit had not been ruined.

“Now…” Caroline peeled herself free. “Let us get you cleaned up. And we best get these sheets washed too. In secret,” she finished with a wink.

It was a bad idea. An idea that if discovered would likely lead to His Grace’s wrath being unleashed upon both Isabella and Caroline. Strange then that just the thought of this elicited excitement in Caroline for reasons that were only too obvious. So much so that a small part of her almost hoped that he found out…

Consequences be damned and most likely, enjoyed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

What a difference a day makes. Or in Frederick’s case, a night.

He pushed his horse forward at a slow trot, his manor appearing on the horizon, slowly growing from the earth in a way that felt ominous. He had a task before him that he did not look forward to, but it had to be completed, nonetheless. There would be shouting. There would be tears. There would be regret. But, as he had been telling himself all day, it was necessary and very much needed.

Yesterday had been unreal. A situation ripped straight from fantasy—his own. He had tried to fight it. He had tried to ignore it. But in the end, he had succumbed to a desire which had spent a week bubbling away beneath the surface, only to explode in glorious, erotic, completely uninhibited fashion.

At the time, he had convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with what he had done. He and Miss Dowding were adults, it was consensual, so what matter if they took libertiesand explored one another’s desires, and bodies, together. Consequences be dammed!

But a night of contemplation and reflection had changed all of that.

He woke the next morning to crushing guilt, the realization that the previous day had not been as innocent as he hoped. No doubt, Miss Dowding was going to become infatuated with him now: she would pester, she would pursue, and he would break as he was want to do. Naturally, it would be found out, his grandmother and others would insist that they wed, and Frederick would be forced into a situation he wasn’t certain he was ready for.

It was for this reason that he woke early the following morning and headed to London. And it was for that reason that upon arriving back home later in the evening, he felt his stomach twist as he contemplated what he was about to do.

Best to get it over with, he decided as he steered his mount down the drive. No sense delaying the inevitable. This was a good thing. It was the only thing. It was… going to be harder than it should have been.

The sight of his grandmother ducking out the front door and waving him over had Frederick’s chest tightening. She had a look on her face that suggested she wished to speak with him urgently, and considering where Frederick’s mind was at, he did not need to guess at why.

“There you are!” she called to him, arms folded, eyebrow raised. “I was beginning to worry!”

“Afraid I might have been attacked by bandits?” Frederick joked plainly. He pulled the horse up then he dismounted, looking about until he spied one of the stable hands hurrying to take the reins.

“You left without saying goodbye,” his grandmother said. “And you have been out all day.”

“And what of it?” He handed the reins to the stable hand and started past his grandmother toward the front door. “Should I alert you each time I visit the washroom, also? And when I am hungry? Perhaps every time I have a drink of water, I shall make sure that you are alerted.”

“Do not be facetious,” she said as she followed after him. “I was hoping to speak with you is why.”

“Oh?” He did not look back, taking the steps two at a time to the front door.

“I have not seen you since yesterday!” Despite her old age, she hurried up the steps and cut him off, blocking the front door. “And I wished to speak with you about something.” Folded arms, a raised eyebrow, and Frederick’s stomach twisted itself into knots.

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