Why Dukes Say I Do (25 page)

With laughter and more teasing the party retired to the drawing room, where Trevor allowed his sisters to sip champagne along with the adults, and before very long everyone was headed upstairs for bed.

Stopping outside Isabella’s bedchamber door, Trevor took her hand in his and kissed it. Isabella was about to speak when he put a finger over her lips.

“I know we have much to discuss,” he said. “And I thank you for allowing me to handle my sisters tonight without insisting that we talk first. I promise you that we’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

Isabella knew that for better or worse, their engagement was a real thing now, so she nodded and said, “All right. But I’ll hold you to that promise. For we do have much to discuss. Not the least of which is how you maneuvered me into this engagement.”

And with a quick kiss on his cheek she turned and went into her bedchamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

But it was not until well after breakfast the next morning, when Trevor was in his office dealing with estate business, that Isabella finally ran him to ground.

*   *   *

It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to discuss matters with her. It was more that he wasn’t quite sure what to say. At the time, his announcement had seemed the most logical thing in the world. After all, he was in need of a wife, his sisters were in need of female guidance, and Isabella was currently unattached. Only after he’d gone to bed the night before had he started to think better of his impetuous decision.

He was not normally given to doing things on impulse. It was one of the things that made him such a good steward of his father’s estate. One couldn’t take impulsive risks and expect to remain successful as a farmer. And yet, ever since Lady Isabella Wharton had come into Trevor’s life he’d found himself doing things that he would never have done as a general rule. He’d followed her to the summerhouse—something he would never have done to a guest under his roof before her arrival. He’d allowed himself to take advantage of her physically. True, he’d stopped before they’d taken the next, irrevocable step, but that was only because Belinda had caught them sneaking back into the house like a couple of young lovers involved in a tryst.

But intuition and gut feelings were something his father had told him again and again were not to be ignored. Yes, one’s instincts might sometimes be wrong, but for the most part, there was a reason why we felt the need to turn left when everyone around us was turning right. And from the moment Trevor had met Isabella he’d been drawn to her.

She was smart and strong and had, as far as he could tell, managed to survive marriage to a man—if his association with Thistleback was any indication—who had treated her as little more than a pawn in his sick games. Any other woman in her situation would have emerged from such a marriage damaged beyond hope. But not Isabella. She was as emotionally strong as anyone Trevor had ever met. And there was a sweetness to her, which she only showed when no one was looking, that he longed to bring out into the light.

He hadn’t consulted her before he’d made his announcement the night before, but he was determined to convince her that it was the right thing for them to do.

So, when she finally hunted him down in his study, he greeted her warmly. And indicated that she should sit down.

“May I offer you some brandy?” he asked, moving toward the sideboard. “Or I could ring for tea, if you wish it.”

Isabella’s brow lifted. “I have no wish for any sort of refreshment, Your Grace,” she said. “You know quite well why I am here. And I don’t need refreshment to do it.”

“You’re angry,” he said, sitting down behind his desk.

“Of course I’m angry,” she said with a toss of her head. “You announced our engagement last night before a ballroomful of your neighbors without consulting me about it.”

“So, you would have been all right with my announcement if I had consulted you first?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“You’ll never know, will you?” she demanded. “How could you, Your Grace?”

He watched the emotions play across her face, saw the hurt behind her eyes. “You’re not just angry,” he said, understanding dawning. “You’re hurt as well. Whyever for?”

She looked away. Her profile was proud. Strong. And lovely. “My first marriage was entirely out of my control,” she said quietly. “My father agreed to the match before consulting me. My betrothal announcement was published in the
Times
before I could even consent to the match. And of course, my husband spent the entirety of our marriage making every decision for me. From what I was to wear to whom I was to socialize with”—she turned to look Trevor fully in the eye—“and when and how he would use my body.

“For you to take control from my hands once again in such a high-handed manner was not only inconsiderate; it was no better than what Lord Wharton would have done,” she continued. “And I had thought better of you.”

Silence fell upon the room as Trevor watched her. His gut twisted as he realized the truth of what she said. He had not considered just what a betrayal it was for him to so thoroughly take the reins away from her like he had done. He had only thought to take advantage of the moment afforded by Mrs. Palmer’s ill-timed intrusion. He saw Isabella bite her lip and wanted more than anything to go to her. To wrap her in his arms and reassure her in a way that would let her know that he had not meant to hurt her.

But he knew that the last thing she wanted from him now was physical affection.

“You are right,” he said at last, raising his hands as if in surrender. “It was wrong of me. I saw a means of turning the tables on Mrs. Palmer, and of salvaging your reputation, and I took it. I should not have done so without consulting you first.”

Her surprise at his apology was like a punch in the gut. Clearly she was unaccustomed to being vindicated.

“I…,” she began, her throat hoarse as she tried to get the words out. “I thank you, Your Grace,” she finally finished. “It means a great deal to me to hear you say so.”

“I had no intention of hurting you, Isabella,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. To his shock, he saw tears there. That he had brought such a strong woman to this point filled him with self-loathing. “Truly,” he continued. “I would not have done if it I’d considered how wresting control of our … whatever it is between us would look to you. Especially given your relationship with your late husband.”

She nodded and, breaking eye contact, looked at her hands in her lap.

Unable to stay away any longer, Trevor stood and walked around to perch on the edge of the desk before her. Leaning down, he slid a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so that he could see her eyes. He stroked a thumb under her eye, wiping a single tear away. Softly, slowly, giving her every opportunity to push him away, Trevor kissed her. To his surprise and delight, she slipped her arms around his neck and held him to her. Opening her mouth beneath his to draw him in.

After a moment, he pulled back.

“Does this mean that you will consider marrying me after all?” he asked. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears but also sharp.

“I will,” she said, stroking his face. “Though I hope that you will never do such a high-handed thing again.”

He shook his head. “I can only promise to try. There might be times when for your own safety or the safety of my sisters or, if we are so fortunate, our children I am forced to make decisions that affect us all. I will promise, however, to consult with you if at all possible if I need to make such a choice. And I will never, ever, take away your will as your late husband did.”

She nodded.

Trevor continued, “What he did you to, Isabella, was monstrous. And I trust you know me well enough to know that I would never use you in the manner that he did.”

“I do,” she said with a rueful smile. “I would not consent to marry you otherwise, no matter how compromised my reputation might be given our interlude in the Palmers’ garden last evening.”

He dropped his hand from her face and took hers, pulling her to her feet. “Would you prefer to be married in Scotland, which is not very far from here, or in London by special license? Scotland would allow us to get away for a bit by ourselves, while London will take a bit of planning, since I have every intention of taking my sisters with us.”

She smiled. “I’ve never been to Scotland. I should like to take a quick jaunt north before we must travel to London and deal with the dowager and no doubt her long list of duties she expects you to fulfill for her as soon as you reach the ducal town house.”

“Excellent,” he said, grinning back at her, his heart light now that they’d gotten past the tangle of last night’s actions. “I will set about planning our trip north.”

“And I will find your sisters and explain to them that we will be traveling to London sometime in the next few weeks,” she said.

Her cheeks turning pink, she added, “Thank you, Trevor.”

His brows drew together. “Whatever for?”

“For understanding. About my objections to last night.” She cleared her throat. “I will endeavor to make you a good wife. I know that my time with Ralph has made me … difficult, in some ways. But I will do my best not to let my first marriage color my marriage to you.”

Unable to stop himself, Trevor gathered her against him and kissed her again. “Never,” he said. “Never for a moment think that I hold anyone but Ralph to blame for what he did to you.”

With a hesitant nod Isabella pulled away and was gone.

Fourteen

“Of course I’ll look after your sisters and Miss Nightingale while you are on your wedding trip,” Lucien said with a frown. “I am shocked you even feel the need to ask.”

Trevor had ridden over to his friend’s estate the morning after the ball. The weather had turned cold, as sometimes happened in early spring when winter seemed reluctant to release its hold. The chill suited Trevor’s somber mood as he pulled up his collar against the wind. He had much to consider and was grateful for the glass of brandy before the fire in Lucien’s study.

“Isabella has told me that I should not take too much for granted,” he said wryly, savoring the fiery warmth of the brandy. “She’s right, of course. But it does make a man dashed nervous. Though I suppose she has had more reason to be wary than most.”

“True enough,” Lucien said, stretching his long legs out before him and crossing them at the ankles. “Did I ever tell you that I was at Eton with Wharton?”

Trevor frowned. “No. Why are you just now informing me of it?”

His friend shrugged. “I don’t know. It didn’t really occur to me, to be honest. He was several years ahead of me. And I didn’t catch his notice, thank god.”

“He was one of
those
boys, was he?” Trevor asked, not surprised. “Something tells me I won’t like what you’re about to tell me.”

“Oh, I have little enough to tell about the man,” Lucien assured him. “He was simply one of the older boys who enjoyed every bit of authority being older and stronger gave him. He thought nothing of requiring his underlings to wait on him hand and foot. Do his lessons. Polish his boots. If there was an unpleasant task that needed doing, he was sure to find a way to get out of it. Preferably by making some other poor creature do it for him.”

“That sounds about right,” Trevor said morosely. “A bastard through and through. Or so I would imagine from what little Isabella has told me of him.”

“I tell you this not so that you will feel sorry for her, Trev,” Lucien said seriously. “I tell you so that you will know just how much strength of will she must have to have survived years of marriage to the bastard with her spirit intact. A woman like that is stronger than you or I can possibly fathom.”

“She is that,” Trevor said with a smile. “She’s managed to endure marriage to Wharton in addition to interference from the dowager. If she were any stronger she’d be a general.”

“Or a duchess,” Lucien said with a grin. “I am happy for you, old fellow.”

“Don’t get all maudlin on me, Luce. You look awful when you cry.”

The other man rolled his eyes. “I am serious. Or am trying to be.” He thrust a hand through his already-tousled hair. “Marry your Isabella and be happy. And don’t let the dowager do anything to separate you once the knot is tied.”

“It’s not like you to be so melodramatic,” Trevor said, his brows drawn.

“It’s just good to see you happy for a change,” Lucien said with vehemence. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much since both your parents were alive.”

Startled, Trevor realized that his friend was likely right. He hadn’t meant to become so serious, but he was saddled with a great degree of responsibility when his father died. It had necessitated him becoming much more focused than he had been before.

“Have I really changed that much?” he asked his friend.

“Only to those who know you as well as I do,” Lucien said with a smile. “Now, go to Scotland and leave me to look after your sisters and their governess.”

Relieved but not quite knowing why, Trevor thanked his friend and headed back to Nettlefield.

*   *   *

As Trevor had said, the trip to Scotland was brief.

To Isabella’s surprise, he chose to ride with her in the carriage. The conversation he initiated after a few moments of trivialities, however, was far from lover-like.

“I want you to think of who might wish to frighten you or get revenge against you for my cousin’s death,” Trevor said, sprawled easily on the opposite seat, as if he were asking her opinion on the latest opera in Covent Garden.

She had hoped the journey north would give her a bit of respite from worries over the person trying to frighten her. And her expression must have communicated as much.

Taking her hand, Trevor gave her a crooked smile. “I know this is tiresome for you, but I wish to keep you safe. The more I know about the situation, the more I can do to ensure that this person is stopped.”

Isabella sighed with resignation. She supposed she would have to discuss the matter sooner or later. And Trevor deserved to begin their marriage knowing as much as she did about the situation. “You are right,” she said, appreciating his willingness to be gentle with her. “I suppose I’ve grown so accustomed to dealing with this—and every other trouble that befalls me—on my own. And to be honest, it stings a bit to reveal the gory details to anyone. Even you.”