Page 19 of Her Beast of a Duke
“You know the circumstances, Harcross,” the Duke said dryly.
“Of course, and my congratulations are, of course, extended to you both.” He looked between the two of them. “Your Grace, I am certain your new husband has told you that I am his closest friend.”
“We are not yet acquainted,” Isabella answered politely. “But I am certain we will be soon enough.”
“Indeed,” Lord Harcross said with a grin. “And perhaps, Your Grace, you might perform a miracle none of us have managed: put a smile on His Grace’s face. The poor fellow looks as though joy itself owes him money?—”
He was cut off by a hard growl from the left of Isabella.
Isabella laughed softly, her nerves covered by the sound. “I fear that might be a tall order, Lord Harcross.”
“Ah, but tall orders suit tall men,” Lord Harcross replied, his brow arched in wicked amusement. “And if His Grace won’t be lifted by cheer, perhaps he’ll settle for lifting the rest of us with his scowls.”
The Duke’s unamused gaze flicked to Lord Harcross. His hard muscles coiled underneath his coat, and he looked decidedly tense, as if every moment spent in the chapel brought him more anguish.
He leaned in, voice low and deliberate. “Careful, Harcross. Some scowls bite harder than others.”
Lord Harcross only smirked, unfazed. “Noted, Your Grace. I’ll survive somehow.”
The Duke’s eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat, then turned back to the guests.
Once Lord Harcross left, Lady Mary and Isabella’s sisters—Hermia, Sibyl, and Alicia—all approached her.
Lady Mary’s eyes were shiny with tears as she embraced Isabella. “I am so very happy for you,” she whispered in her ear. “It may not be a love match, but it is what you wanted, no? Security?”
“I know,” Isabella assured her, but she did not know. Not at all. “Thank you. I will write, and perhaps you can visit…” She glanced at the Duke. “You can visit Rochdale Castle, I am sure.”
“You are a duchess now,” Mary teased. “Surely you can decide your own visitors.”
The Duke narrowed his eyes at Lady Mary. “The Duchess may receive visitors… provided I am given notice. I do not tolerate surprises.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mary offered, “I would never be so rude as to barge in uninvited or without alerting you and Her Grace.”
The duke only gave a curt nod. His gaze remained dark and watchful, as if measuring every potential threat.
Isabella hugged her friend once more, feeling the weight of his protection in every line of his stance, before she bid farewell to her sisters.
“Do keep your heart open, sister,” Sibyl murmured. “Look at how Hermia did. Do what feelsright.”
Isabella could only nod, but she didn’t believe in such things. After hugging Sibyl, Alicia shouldered her way in.
“Do not let him take away your fierce spirit. I know it’s there, no matter how much rouge you pile over it,” Alicia warned. “He seems… insistent. Simply be careful, Izzie.”
“Have I ever been anything but?” Isabella smiled.
Alicia only nodded, hugging her quickly, before giving space for Hermia.
As Hermia embraced Isabella, she whispered, “Do not forget that I am a letter away. Just say the word, and I’ll be at Rochdale Castle. You are never, ever alone, Isabella. No matter what.”
The words came with such sincerity that Isabella had to fight back an unexpected prickle of tears as she nodded.
“Thank you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right,” she told Hermia with a curt nod, and although Hermia returned the gesture with a kind smile, Isabella could see the concern still there in her older sister’s eyes.
The two parted, and then her parents were there, tight-lipped and with chins held high.
“Be a good wife, Isabella,” her mother intoned. “And do not forget to be an even better Duchess. I trust we shall hear of your progress.” Her head inclined with measured gravity, and Isabella inclined hers in acknowledgment.
Who requires me to be the better Duchess most—him, or the two of you?
