Page 34 of The Duke's Improper Bride
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered what it meant to be a duchess when he proposed. Though, it wasn’t a very traditional proposal. Nora had fallen for him fast and hard. And she had been feeling as if she were still falling with no end in sight.
Tonight, the ground was quickly approaching. She was sure of it.
The maid had left only moments ago, but Nora couldn’t pull herself away from staring at herself in the mirror, at the crimson flush that made its way up her neck and dotted her cheeks. Her mother would have been proud to see the jewels woven in her hair and hanging around her neck. She would have fawned over the new green silk gown from Paris.
Nora finally had everything her mother wished for her as a young girl, but as Nora smiled at her reflection, it faltered. Because not everything was perfect.
Her stutter had grown worse in the past weeks, even around Isaac.
And as he insisted on showing her London and taking her about town, she longed for her morning hikes in the mountains. She wished to be as far away from people as possible, if only to keep away from the likely whispered gossip of others. Worse, she was furious with herself for being so unhappy with her new title, and not so much—if she were being honest—with her husband.
“Darling?” Isaac knocked on the door. “The carriage is outside.” He popped his head into her room, then did the thing she had come to hate the most—he smiled at her. He smiled at her as if she belonged in this palace of his, as if she belonged in his bed at night, and, well, any time of the day. He smiled and her world stopped.
And she hated him for it.
“I’m not feeling well. I think I might stay home.”
He sauntered in, softly closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?”
She waved her hand at him, clawing at her mind for some excuse. Any would do. “A headache.”
He came to a stop behind her. “What if the maid fixed your hair? Maybe the pins are too tight.”
Nora shook her head, looking away from his gaze in the mirror. Guilt churned in her stomach. How could he be proud of her as his wife when she couldn’t even stand the idea of attending a ball? How was she to continue when he made her so happy, but his obligations made her so miserable?
“I need to lie down.”
Isaac massaged her neck with his hands and her eyes shuddered. Her body traitorously melted under his touch. He bent down and kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder, slowly moving his mouth upward in a steady march of drugging kisses.
“We only need to stay for a short while,” Isaac whispered into her ear.
Her eyes popped open, meeting his answering gaze in the mirror.
“You’re attempting to avoid tonight like you have every other event for the past three weeks. It’s not as if I’m pushing you out onto a gangplank. I’m asking if you’ll be my duchess, my wife. I’m asking if I can attend a ball with you and enjoy our evening. Together.”
Nora pushed back from the vanity, her chair knocking against him as she stood. Her dress, though beautiful, was much too heavy and the corseting too tight. And she believed she might toss her accounts on the floor at any moment.
Nora spun away, bracing her hand on her stomach. “I don’t feel well,” she repeated.
“I will be there beside you. I will be with you all evening.”
Even if that were true, she’d be nothing but an embarrassment to him. Doubt nagged at her, jerking at the corner of her mind, taunting her to retreat. He’d come to realize it soon enough—marrying her was mistake.
Her chest tightened and her mouth soured. She did suddenly feel quite awful. Or maybe it was just because the room had grown especially warm. And it had begun to spin ever so slightly.
“This isn’t Scotland,” she snapped. Nora reached around and tried to undo the clasp on her necklace. It was some heavy emerald piece—a family heirloom of Isaac’s. In that moment, it might as well have been a shackle, dragging her deeper in despair.
Isaac’s eyes narrowed and his lips pinched. Perhaps she was provoking him. Perhaps that’s exactly what they needed—a lover’s quarrel. Either way, she wouldn’t be attending the ball that evening.
“It’s not Scotland. I had no plans to remain there. I never meant to find myself there in the first place.”
His words hit her, washing over her, and she suddenly she was drowning. Scotland had been where they had found each other. It was never perfect, but Nora held their time together there in a special corner of her heart. And with Isaac dismissing it so easily, it was as if he were dismissing her.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Nora. I’m trying.”
“As am I.” She flung her hands up into the air before settling down on the edge of the mattress. She wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. How could one be freezing and roasting at the same time? “I am trying, but it’s not good enough. And you deserve more.”
He came to stand in front of her, sinking down to his knees. Isaac grabbed her hand, which she gave him only half willingly. “You deserve to be there by my side. You deserve to be in London and take up space in London and my life. You should be demanding it.”
