Page 15 of The Duke's Golden Belle
“I must agree with you, Bea. I had agreed to go riding with him, but we ended up with a lovely afternoon lunch in the ruins—something I would never have expected. The engagement to his brother felt like a hopeless situation for me—a marriage where I was expected to perform as a duchess at Society functions—which terrify me—and to extend the family line with children. He asked for my hand, announced our betrothal, and ignored my existence.” Isabelle was grateful for Beatrice and her friendship. They had practically grown up together, and while Beatrice was her maid, she was more like the sister she had never had.
“But this man could make you feel an emotion you have never felt, my lady—affection.”
Isabelle stood there for a moment, looking into the flames in her fireplace. “I enjoy his company,” she said.And his kisses, but I’m not admitting that to Beatrice.
“There’s a kindness in his eyes,” the maid said, smoothing the counterpane on the bed. “I’ll come fluff up the pillows when his highness takes his meal,” she said with a giggle and nodding toward Chase.
Chase opened an eye and looked at the two women before closing it and going back to whatever he had been dreaming about.
Isabelle snorted. “He does rather think he rules the roost.” As if to emphasize her point, the small spaniel mix stretched out and continued his sleep. “But I find him adorable.”
“He knows that my lady,” Beatrice chortled. “You will leave soon with the duke. To avoid his getting out, I thought I’d feed him in here, and when you are gone, put his leash on and take him for a walk to do his business.”
“That’s probably the right way to handle him. He’s never done such a thing before, but it may have something to do with his sharing my time with Michael. I haven’t shared my time with someone else since he was a puppy.”
“Jealousy would make sense. He seems to act like a person in many other ways. I don’t doubt he can feel jealous,” Beatrice said, biting her lip.
“I won’t be insulted because you care for him too,” Isabelle said, grinning. “It means a lot to me. I’ll trust you to take care of him while I’m gone.”
“Let’s finish getting you ready so you can meet your duke,” Beatrice suggested.
“He’s not my . . . you’re right. Never mind. He’s my duke unless he decides otherwise,” Isabelle conceded.
“Andthatwill never happen, my lady,” the maid said.
* * *
The bright sunshine inspired Michael to tackle something he dreaded.In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, choosing breakfast to broach the subject of the betrothal announcement with his mother. Sensitive to how things might affect Isabelle, he had minimized the number of people he had invited to be present for her introduction as his betrothed. That meant a small affair, which was counter to what he knew his mother intended. He waited until Anne arrived, confident in her willingness to see his side in this. His mother’s acquiescence wouldn’t be easy. She liked large celebrations and took pride in every milestone.
“Good morning, Anne, Mother,” he said, strolling into the room towards the sideboard, where food sat waiting. “It’s a bright, beautiful day. How do you plan to spend it?” Michael picked up a plate and ladled potatoes and rashers on his plate. “I see Mrs. Beacon prepared the eggs a little differently. And they look delicious. Are they?” He turned around and smiled at his sibling, who had just taken a bite of eggs.
“Yes. She added shredded cheese to the mixture this morning and I like it a lot!” Anne said, taking another bite.
“We might go for a carriage ride to get fresh air,” his mother said, feigning interest in her gossip newspaper.
She was still miffed over yesterday’s deception. Henry turned and couldn’t help the smile he gave the wall in front of him as he stood with his back to the table. It would do Mother good not to get her way.
“I rather enjoyed yesterday. Tuesdays are not crowded in Madame Tapiere’s, and I prefer to do my business there quickly and leave. She really must do something about the dreadful lack of suitable lighting—what with her penny-pinching the candles. She barely lights enough. I prefer her to come here for fittings and such because our windows let in natural light.” She took a sip of tea and continued. “I bought the book,Ivanhoe,and plan to find a comfortable place to recline and read it. That’s my plan for today.”
“Ah! Sir Walter Scott’s latest romance. I’ve read about it. Rather, a Robin Hood type of character, correct? I always enjoyed reading about the noble bandit.”
“Would you like to read it when I’m finished?” Anne asked.
“I might.” He wondered if Isabelle would enjoy it. Lately, all his thoughts included her. That reminded him. “Mother, I wonder if I can broach a rather delicate subject with you this morning.” Taking a forkful of rashers into his mouth, he smiled at his matriarch and waited.
Methodically, she set down the paper she had been reading. This was her typical behavior whenever she perceived herself to be unfairly bested about something. It was the very reason he approached the topic at the table with his sister.
“What would that be,son?” she said, giving extra enunciation to the beginning of each word. Just enough to signal her irritation.
“I’m glad you asked. I’m concerned with how you plan to make the formal betrothal announcement. My preference is to make it a very low-key affair. It seems the sensible thing to do since my betrothed was also once betrothed to Daniel,” he said, taking a sip of his tea.
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything,” she said, pursing her lips. “She is a lovely girl and deserves the recognition. Everyone knows what happened to Daniel, and they never got married. It is not so unusual that you should marry his affianced since the promise was made.”
Since the lawyer his father used had added that extra codicil to so many agreements, he wanted to say but decided it would not advance his cause. Of course,hecould decree a low-key celebration but that would put him at odds with his mother, and things were much more pleasant in the household when she was happy. “Mother, that is part of the problem. We both want Lady Isabelle to be comfortable. But she has a problem with crowds, and until she has time to gain her footing with social events as my duchess, I feel the announcement would fare better in a smaller setting.”
“Who do you suggest? My position within Society requires a certain amount of . . . ton immersion. Your betrothal announcement is an important event, and we have an obligation . . .”
“Mother,” Anne cut in, “Perhaps we could warm her up to her position. You are a duchess and your actions set standards. We don’t want to scare her away.”
