Page 14 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)

Chapter Ten

“ O f course, we must take you shopping,” the duchess said to Isobel at the breakfast table the next morning.

She had awoken far earlier than Isobel suspected was common for ladies of her standing; when Isobel had come downstairs, it was to find the duchess waiting for her.

“Shopping? But His Grace said?—”

“Precisely what did he say?” The duchess’s eyes flashed. “Of course, if he suspected you had improper intentions, then it follows that he would not want me to pay for new attire. But you have discredited those assumptions, my dear, as I’m certain he would be happy to admit.

“Besides, I have my own pin money and more dresses of my own than I know what to do with. It will be a pleasure to dress a lady with a slenderer waist than my own. And such unusual coloring.” The duchess sighed.

“It will be a delight to clothe the daughter of my dearest friend. I shall purchase you everything you might need for a Season.”

Isobel sat, for once feeling as though her problems had been taken from her. “Me maither suggested ye might so kind,” she said. “I brought some money.”

“Keep it. Better you have something to your name, and I have more money than I know what to with. Ah, Adrian,” she said as the duke entered the room.

“I’m glad you’ve come. I’m intending to take Lady Isobel into town to purchase some new gowns.

If I’m going to present her in society, she must look the part. ”

Isobel expected the duke to inform his mother that she would be doing no such thing, but instead he merely sat, eyebrows climbing up his face.

She tried to look at him as she might a foe, but now, whenever she saw him, she thought of all the ways they had once touched and how his lips had felt against hers.

“Town?” he asked.

“Well, where else would we find everything we need?”

His gaze flashed to Isobel, then away again. “You will need someone to accompany you.”

“Well, dearest, I had hoped you would volunteer.”

“Had you now?” he said dryly. “And why is that, precisely?”

“You are the one who almost damaged Lady Isobel’s reputation. The least you can do is put it right. Besides, I’m positive you have errands to do, so we won’t be taking up too much of your time.”

After a moment’s consideration, he nodded, though Isobel didn’t miss the look of distaste across his face, as though the prospect of accompanying her anywhere did not fill him with enthusiasm. “Very well,” he said. “It’s best I keep an eye on you, anyway. To keep you out of trouble.”

“Splendid!” The duchess beamed. “We have a busy day ahead of us. And I had an invitation to a retreat tomorrow, so I must make sure we are prepared. Don’t you agree, Lady Isobel?”

“Yes, Yer Grace,” Isobel said.

“Excellent. Then it’s settled.”

The duke snapped his jaw closed and disappeared behind his newspaper for the remainder of breakfast. Isobel half expected him to leave the house before their shopping trip could begin, but although he said not a word to either of them, he was waiting in the hallway for them to arrive.

“Let’s get this over with,” he growled, handing them both up into the carriage.

His fingers wrapped around Isobel’s hand, and she had another shock of awareness. His eyes met hers, and the air hummed with energy. She caught her breath and he looked away, handing her up silently and joining them.

“Do you like books?” the duchess asked pleasantly, ignoring her scowling son. “We could visit Hatchards.”

“I’ve heard great things,” Isobel said. “We have a similar shop in Edinburgh.”

The duke’s gaze fixed on her. “You have been often to the city, ma’am?”

“Of course. It’s the capital of my country. And I have experienced one half of a Season there before?—”

She stopped.

“There is more potential for finding a husband in London,” the duchess said, and Isobel agreed with a nod.

They had not overtly agreed not to tell the duke the full details behind her flee to London, but it seemed as though the duchess understood her every wish.

When spending time with the other lady in this way, Isobel could understand how she and her mother had been such good friends.

“I see,” he said coolly and looked out of the window for the remainder of the journey.

It had been a long time since Adrian had attended ladies while they were shopping, and he sincerely hoped it was the last.

Whatever his mother wanted to believe, Isobel was hiding something, and he doubted it was anything good.

Yet, confound her, she had a way of smiling when she was not looking at him that was downright enchanting. A lopsided dimple formed in her cheek, and her eyes sparkled. Given she was a Scot with dubious motives, he ought not to feel anything for her.

But as her slim fingers brushed across fabric in the seamstress’s cramped front room, he could not help imagining those fingers on other things. Other places. How her small hands might feel wrapped around?—

He cleared his throat violently and looked out of the windows at the busy streets beyond. At this time, he could be anywhere else. Fencing, perhaps. At his club. Riding out, even. At home, in his study, applying himself to the work that so desperately needed to be done.

Instead, he was here, watching as his mother purchased a set of gowns for the next few days, then commissioned some to be designed for Lady Isobel.

For her part, the lady herself looked as though this generosity was more than she could ever have hoped for.

His mother glanced over, and Lady Isobel gave another of these delectable smiles.

He found himself oddly charmed by her freckles, of all things.

They, in conjunction with her brown-green eyes, made her seem a little like a woodland elf.

Her auburn curls, falling around her face, only added to the impression.

“Thank you,” his mother said graciously to the seamstress, who bowed her head deeply.

“Are we done?” Adrian asked as they finally emerged into the sunlight.

“Not even remotely,” his mother said. “We have yet to look at bonnets, and she needs a lady’s underthings.”

Adrian stoically stared straight ahead, not allowing his face to display the way his heart had lurched at the thought.

He had seen a lady’s underthings before; that was nothing new. And yet, when he thought about Isobel in such unmentionables, he could feel his heart racing and his palms sweating. Arousal , moving through his body.

Nonsense. He hadn’t even seen her in any state of undress. He had no concept of how her body might feel against his, save for the moments he had crushed her against him. Soft breasts, soft belly, generous hips and thighs.

Perfection in female form.

“I hardly think it appropriate if I am there,” he said with as much reserve as he could manage. “I’ll wait outside.”

His mother gave him a knowing smile. “That is very sensible, Adrian.”

Lady Isobel, curse her, looked as though she was biting her cheeks to keep from laughing.

“Now, shall we go?” the lady asked, gesturing her charges down the road.

Adrian strode behind, letting them take the lead.

Although he would not have thought to accompany them without his mother’s prompting, he found himself relieved that he’d decided to do so.

Although he could not be said to be having a wonderful time, this was necessary to show solidarity and support for Lady Isobel. There were worse things.

He wondered what was in the letter that she’d given his mother. If he’d been a different man, a less honorable one, he might have checked inside. Now, that was impossible, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry he hadn’t taken the opportunity when it had arrived.

Still.

He gritted his teeth as his mother and Isobel disappeared inside another shop, this one a haberdashery. Of all things they could buy, he had the least interest in bonnets. Still, when Isobel moved to pick up an ugly green affair, he stopped her.

“Do not consider it.”

She sent him an assessing glance. “Are ye a proponent of fashion, sir?”

“I know enough to know that would be hideous on you. Green brings out the color in your eyes, but not that shade. And it is not made up very prettily.” He nodded to several others. “Those, I think, would be more flattering.”

“ Well ,” his mother said, a smile growing. “I have never known you to be so particular, Adrian.”

“If we are to harbor Lady Isobel in our house, I would prefer it if she did us credit,” he said stiffly, already regretting expressing his opinion. “And I do not think that bonnet in particular would achieve such a goal.”

Isobel’s eyes gleamed at him, and he had the impression she was, once again, laughing at him.

Still, to his relief, he moved away from the vomit-green hat and selected one of the others he had recommended.

And, when she tried it on, it framed her face perfectly, the dark shade a perfect contrast to her bright hair.

He looked away before she could see him staring.

Truly, this was the greatest of torments. Even when he eventually married, he had not expected to have to take his wife shopping. She could do all that on her own without his help.

Still, after he had ventured an opinion on her bonnet, his mother frequently appealed to him, and by the time they left Bond Street, Adrian had had a hand in selecting half the things they had bought, whether by offering an opinion or his mother’s instruction that the bill be sent to him.

“Now we just have Hatchards,” Lady Isobel said, her face lighting up.

At the sight of her smile, he bit back his groan. He had to endure one more stop before returning home and pretending this had never happened.

And, perhaps, taking a very cold bath.

Something about the way Isobel moved, the way she would reach out to touch something before second-guessing herself, something about the tilt of her head and the flash of her eyes, made him want her more than ever.