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“I am simply bringing up what it is that I have noticed,” she cried innocently. “Whenever I dress in such a way, the Duke’s eyes wander – yes, like that,” she said when she caught him glancing again. “I simply thought it might be best to ask if he would like me to dress in such a way again?”

“Isabella...” Her mother warned her; a tone that Isabella recognized as she brought it out in her mother often. “This is – I have never been so mortified by --”

“It is quite alright.” The Duke firmed himself as he sat up and fixed Isabella with a steady gaze. “To answer your question, I am certain that whatever decision that you make will be the correct one. I would prefer something a little more traditional, as is expected, but if you wish to embarrass yourself by wearing half a garment, I will not stop you.”

She flushed with embarrassment. “I am not -- will not be embarrassed. I just pray that you will not be.”

“It will take a lot more than that to embarrass me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” she said.

“An observation.”

“It is lucky then that we have the rest of our lives to find out its truth.”

“A lifetime that I am looking forward to.”

“As am I,” she shot back.

The Duke made sure he was looking at her. A pregnant pause as a cocky smirk rose up the side of his face. His eyes then flashed knowingly as he whispered so softly that Isabella was quite sure that only she could hear it. “More than enough time to teach you how tobehave.”

That word... it sent a shiver up her spine that left her body tingling. She felt the inside of her thighs grow warm as her breath caught in her throat and she very nearly choked.

That warning again... another shudder.

He was just trying to scare her. That was all it was. Ithadto be. He knew what she was doing and he was trying to make her stop. Most likely, she forced herself to believe, because it was working. She just had to try harder.

It was two days later when the Duke stopped once more. This time to check on how preparations were coming along, and to confirm guests and other minor details.

“Surely, you have sent word to the King?” Isabella asked, more demanded to know. “As a Duke of England, I am certain he would love to attend.”

“And I can assure you, he would not.”

“Will you write to him anyway? For me?” she pouted and battered her eyelashes.

Again, the Duke rose above it. This time he was stoic to a fault, not once rising to the many pieces of bait that she lay out for him.

Three days after that, the Duke invited Isabella and her mother to his estate for tea – a better chance to get to know the family.Isabella insisted on bringing Louisa who she then started a fight with for no other reason than to antagonize the Duke.

And Louisa, being the good sister that she was, went along with it… even if convincing her to do so had been a task unto itself.

“You have always been jealous of me!” she had found herself accusing Louisa. “Admit it!”

The Duke was far too controlled. Calm. Rational. Purposefully aloof and dispassionate, as if he was watching mice squabble over a piece of cheese, something so insignificant that there was no need to rise to the bait and lose control of his temper.

For Isabella, this pushed her beyond the realms of simply not wanting to marry the man because she did not wish to marry. She was beginning to dislike him. To hate him. Better the man who accosted her in the carriage than one who barely even looked at her because he thought so little of who she was.

Her plan wasn’t working.

The date of the wedding was drawing closer and closer.

She was forced to finally admit that there would be no tricking the Duke into backing out of the engagement. If Isabella wanted out of this marriage, there was but one thing left for her to do.

She was going to beg.

It would not be her finest hour, but desperate times called for desperate measure and with the wedding only a few days away, Isabella had become very desperate indeed.

Chapter Ten