Page 6 of The Duke's Golden Belle
“I suppose they seemed to suit you. They are beautiful and need nothing to enhance their beauty,” he managed.
Isabelle colored. Had he just called her beautiful? No one had done that before in her life. For a moment, she felt tongue-tied. “Thank you, Michael.” She glanced to her left and saw her maid already standing.
“Allow me to take those, my lady, and put them in water. Shall I place them in here?” Beatrice asked, walking up to accept the flowers. “I will ask Withers to secure a vase.”
“Please place them in my room,” Isabelle suggested, taking in their beauty once more before surrendering them to Beatrice. “I have always loved flowers, but there is no comparison to a beautiful white rose,” she whispered, lost in the scent.
“I shall remember your affinity for them. It occurs to me, there is much to find out about one another,” Michael said, obviously pleased with his floral selection.
“Since our properties are close together, I rode my horse here, thinking we could ride toward the monastery ruins that border our mutual properties. Without being presumptuous, I thought a light picnic lunch when we got there might be relaxing,” he suggested.
Isabelle noticed Beatrice’s head pop up, with an amused expression on her face. The maid gave a discrete nod of her head, obviously approving of the duke’s plans. “What a wonderful idea!” she caught herself saying before giving it a moment’s thought. “I have never been on a picnic in the area.”
“I must apologize, Lady Isabelle. I should have asked if you have a favorite place, but when I thought about the ruins, it seemed a good place for a picnic, so I am very pleased you like the idea. However, I was prepared to do whatever you would like,” Michael said.
“No, no apology is necessary. It is a marvelous idea. I haven’t explored the ruins since I was much younger and my brother Garrett took me up there to look around. We had to sneak out of the house.” She noticed Beatrice’s head bob up again and bit back a snort. They had ditched their governess and met the wrath of Father for their exploit.
Beatrice walked up, holding out her cape, and Isabelle put it on with her matching green leather gloves.
A dog barked from the hallway, making her smile. “I suppose Chase will give me last-minute approval. He’s a year old and isn’t used to being left behind,” she said.
“So, you can take your dog when you ride?” Michael asked, interested.
“He’s rather small, so I don’t allow him to run behind the horse; he rides comfortably in a saddlebag Father had made for him. But he won’t be coming with us,” she quickly added with a short laugh. “Mother has promised to keep him with her. Chase probably returned from doing his business and heard us talking in here. He doesn’t accompany me every time I ride my horse. He will be fine.”
“Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm.
She lightly touched his arm, and they were about to exit the house when her small dog ran to her and nudged the back of her leg with his nose. “Excuse me, Your Grace.” She let go of his arm and reached down to pick up her dog. “Chase! What has you so excited? I’ll be back, little man. Mama needs you to escort her about the house,” she said, kissing the small dog on the nose. Placing him on the ground, she gave a gentle scratch behind his ears. “Be a good boy.” She gently patted his head and stood, taking the duke’s proffered arm.
They walked out of the house and headed toward their horses. Peter held her horse as she approached the footman, and she heard crunching pebbles behind her as the duke returned to her side.
“Allow me,” he said, nodding at Peter before weaving his fingers together in a step-like fashion. As he lowered his hands, she placed her booted foot on them and he lifted it, helping her into the saddle. Then he swung up onto his horse. “Are we ready?”
“Very much, Your Grace,” she returned, excited about the outing. As they rode off, the footman followed. But she had a nagging feeling something was wrong.
ChapterFour
Michael stole a sidelong glance of his intended, as she appeared to survey the trees. For the second time in as many days, he was struck by her beauty. More than beauty, she had depth and heart, and the small amount of time they had spent together had shown him that. They weren’t strangers, but he could not say they—he and Isabelle—knew each other. He was committed to getting to know her, and she, him. He had not planned to marry this soon, he reminded himself. There had been women in his past, but he had never had a serious relationship. Their parents’ friendship had been the catalyst for this over-the-top betrothal agreement which he had to honor. His memories of her were scarce, perhaps because of the tragedy she and her family had experienced. Losing Isabelle’s twin had nearly devastated her parents and was blamed for their extended withdrawal from Society when they were younger.
His fellow officers with the Crown had encouraged him to remain unmarried, fearing familial obligations could make him less willing to take on long-term assignments. As a second son, there had been little risk to a career as a master spy; but with his brother’s death, everything had changed. At first, resentment had stirred within, but now he was seeing possibilities . . .
“It looks as if the trees will finally lose the last of their leaves,” she offered, while her head was turned in the opposite direction.
At that moment, the trees fluttered as a gust of wind carried away many of their colorful leaves. “I agree, although I think the trees must be fluttering as an offering to your beauty,” he said, realizing too late his compliment could embarrass her.
“You bring me to blush with your kind words,” she said, glancing up at him with a hesitant smile.
“I had not meant to make you uncomfortable,” he said.
They paused their horses at the edge of a wooded area that framed part of the stream where he had fished. “The old monastery ruins are just beyond the hills.”
“The ones you reminded me about last evening. I haven’t seen them in years. Garrett took me up there before he left for school. That was my last visit. We pretended to be a duke and duchess.” She covered her mouth with her gloved fingers. “Now, it seems quite funny.”
“Yes, it does,” he drawled, with a half-smile. “Would you like to play duke and duchess with me, my lady?”
“What do you mean?”
A smile creased his face as he withdrew his pocket watch. “Would you enjoy an early luncheon?”
