Page 31 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
And yet shewantedto, and that scared her more than anything.
The carriage pulled up outside the duke’s townhouse. Gathering herself, Isobel accepted the duke’s hand as he helped her from the carriage, but she stalked ahead of him as he thanked the coach driver and sent the man on his way.
If she could escape to her bedchamber, she might not have to face whatever was brewing between them.
Unfortunately, his legs were longer than hers, and he’d reached her before they got to the front door.
“Thank you, Johnston,” he said to the butler, who nodded. “I can take it from here.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Isobel raised her chin. “Do ye have something to say to me, Yer Grace?”
“Did you enjoy the ball?”
“Aye, thank ye.”
“Are you any closer to finding your future husband?” A twitch of his brow, as though the question irked him, although she could hardly see why.
If he didn’t want her in his home, that was the fastest way of expelling her.
“I danced with some charming gentlemen,” she said—none had compared to him, but she had no intention of letting him know that. “Did ye enjoy the card rooms? I heard that play was challenging.”
“You should know nothing about such things.”
“Tell that to Eliza—she is the one who mentioned it to me.”
“You have done an excellent job of ingratiating yourself with my relatives.”
Irritation bit at her. “Ye were the one to dance with me.”
“A mistake, I assure you.”
“Why? Because ye dislike being seen with me? I know what most people think of me. Do ye think me blind or stupid? Miss Wentworth was not the only one. My heritage, my accent, myhairsets me apart.”
“Your hair?” He looked as though she had slapped him. Then he glanced around the darkened hallway. “This way,” he said curtly, taking her hand and leading her into the drawing room. “At least here, the servants need not know what you think of me.”
She folded her arms as he went about the room, lighting candles from a taper.
He made no sense—one moment he behaved as though he cared about her and her wellbeing, and the next, he behaved so coldly toward her. If he had been another man, she might have thought him jealous, but she knew as well as he that he had no desire to marry her.
If he had, he would not have compromised her reputation so much by keeping her in his home. He would have treated her with respect.
And yet—hehad. On occasion, at least.
“What about me do ye dislike?” she inquired.
“Your lack of manners,” he said shortly. “And your dislike for convention. But I am a fair duke.” He turned on his heel and came to stand before her. “Why not turn the question back on you? What do you dislike about me?”
“Your temper,” she said simply. “And the fact that ye cannae seem to decide whether you despise me or…”
She stopped, and the duke arched an eyebrow.
“Or what?”
“Never mind.”
“No, no; I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer.”
