Page 33 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“So, you are acquainted with Lady Isobel’s mother,” the duke stepped forward.
“Acquainted? Once, Lady Glenrannoch even saved my life. I have been in her debt ever since that moment.”
Isobel chanced a glance at the duke, who was watching them with a conflicted expression. Now, he knew how it felt to be wrong.
His gaze flicked to hers, and amidst the suspicion still there, she thought she saw something softer. A flash of an apology.
“You never told me this before,” he said.
“Well,” the dowager sighed, “I suppose it was a long time ago, and your father rarely liked speaking of the past.”
Isobel noticed the duke’s face darken at the mention of his father. His fists clenched ever so slightly. But instead of addressing that, he merely drew himself up.
“I have the letter she brought,” he said, nodding at Isobel. “It’s in my study. I thought to leave it until you could read it yourself, Mother. I’ll fetch it now.”
“Thank you, Adrian.” The duchess gave Isobel a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, my dear. We will have this matter solved in a trifle.”
Isobel doubted it, but having the duchess here—so warm and welcoming, when she had not been made welcome by anyone but Eliza—made her feel oddly as though she wanted to cry.
“You look just like her, you know,” the duchess said. “Your mother. You have her eyes, and I can already see that you have her spirit. I’m sure she would be proud of you coming here like this.”
Isobel smiled. “I hope so, even if this matter is not… I am not so sure it can be easily fixed.”
“Perhaps not, but I will offer you all the aid that I can, and that of my son, too. You may rely on him, even if he doesn’t seem very forthcoming. I have rarely met a man so loyal.”
Isobel hardly knew what to say to that, but before she could respond, the duke returned with the letter in his hand. He passed it to his mother, who broke the seal and read it through with a line between her brows. Isobel watched anxiously, having to fight to bite her nails.
“I see what you mean,” the duchess said with a long sigh. “Still, I think it will all be well. All we need to do is to find you a husband, and you will be out of the public eye—and protected by your husband, of course. Though your stay here with my son may not have helped things.”
“Eliza has been taking me to events with her family,” Isobel said.
“Ah, she’s a kind-hearted girl. But I shall have to start making reparations before your reputation is too damaged. The rumor mill must be working at full power.” She clucked her tongue. “You must stay here now. I’m back, and to do anything else would be to suggest that you have been behaving improperly. I shall invent a chaperone—who has been done away with now I am here, of course. An old aunt who was too ill to accompany you to events. You went to all of them with Eliza, I suppose?”
“Aye, ma’am,” Isobel said, startled by the speed of the other woman’s thoughts.
“Excellent. Then that is a lie we can put into action. Rosemary—my lady’s maid—has a sharp tongue and she will work with Johnston to keep the servants in line. No word of this shall get out.” She sent her son a sharp glance. “But you should have known better, Adrian.”
“I didnotknow better,” he said evenly. “I had no way of knowing whether Lady Isobel was telling the truth with you absent, and it would have been irresponsible of me to send her elsewhere.”
“I see. Very well,” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t mind admitting that I am exhausted after that awful journey. Don’t worry, Isobel. All will be well.”
For the first time since she arrived, Isobel thought that might be true.
Adrian was not accustomed to feeling as though he had miss-stepped. Ordinarily, he ensured his behavior was such that he never needed to fear repercussions. Logic ruled his every decision; emotion was an unnecessary indulgence. Survival depended on critical thinking, and emotion clouded that.
Yet she had provoked an unmistakably emotional response from him. And if she was telling the truth…
“Lady Isobel,” he said as she passed him.
When she glanced up, her eyes hazel in this light, almost entirely brown, he nodded at her.
“It seems as though I owe you an apology. For doubting your connection to my mother,” he said, each word an effort.
A mischievous smile lit her eyes. “So ye do.”
“Allow me to offer it now. But even with the letter, and my mother’s word proving you are who you say you are, and that your mother did indeed have connections to your family, I think there is still more you are not telling me.”
“Aye?” Her brows rose. “Based on what?”
