Page 28 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)
“Of course he will.” Eliza waved a dismissive hand, as though this point was hardly worth the time taken to discuss it.
“Adrian is good at everything he puts his mind to doing. If he has decided he will make you a good husband, then a good husband he will make.” She pursed her lips as she thought.
“Are you intending to take a honeymoon?”
“Not as such. Adrian will give me a tour of his properties, but we have some business to conclude in London.”
To Isobel’s relief, Eliza didn’t ask what form of business, and thus she was not obliged to lie.
Although her friend had noticed her oddness around Lord Moreton, she had just attributed it to being overwhelmed—and then once she and Adrian had announced their engagement, all other considerations fell by the wayside.
Lord Moreton, and any connection the two may share, had been forgotten.
Isobel was glad. Eliza would have wanted to know all the sordid details, but anyone she told would be in danger. Lord Moreton could not be trusted. Sometimes, she wondered why she had told Adrian at all.
But he had been so good in promising that she would be safe, and it had been so very easy to believe him.
A relief to give someone else the burden of the secret she had been carrying so long, and even more of a relief to think that he would do more than carry it with her—he would protect her from it.
“Do you like him?” Eliza asked now.
Isobel blushed. “Why are ye asking?”
“So, you do,” Eliza said in great satisfaction. “I had hoped you would. Not before, mind you, but only because I never thought Adrian would marry. Once he offered for you?—”
“He did not offer for me ,” Isobel protested. “He announced that we were already engaged.”
“Semantics. The end result was the same, and are you telling me if he had offered for you, you would have turned him down?”
Isobel hesitated. For the longest time, she had mistrusted the duke. When she had most needed a place to stay, he had turned her away, and he had treated her with so much suspicion that she had wondered whether he would act against her.
But he had not, and by the time he had comforted her on the balcony—oh, she had not felt she could have told him about Moreton then, necessarily, but had he asked, thus offering her his protection? Had he gone down on one knee and begged for her affection? Would she have denied him?
If Moreton had not arrived as he had, and if the duke had merely given her the protection of his house for no reason other than that she needed a husband and he needed a wife, would she have accepted?
She rather suspected she might have done.
“I daenae know,” she said. “Mayhap.”
“Oh, you would have done. How marvelous!” Eliza clapped her hands. “It’s a delight, you know, to have you as a cousin. Adrian is wonderful, of course, but he is so dull . And now you are a married lady, you can accompany me to events sometimes instead of my mother.”
“Oh.” Isobel blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We shall have such fun . Which reminds me—you must attend a ball soon. You will take the ton by storm. And just think how many young ladies will have to play nice even though they had hoped to snag the duke.”
“Eliza,” Isobel said, trying to hide a smile. “I didn’t snag him.”
“To be sure you did. But if you appear in public and he is affectionate—which, of course, we both know he will be—then that will put their arguments to rest. All they can do is accept you as the new leader of the fashionable world. And I shall be your cousin.”
Soon, she would have been married a week. That was long enough to make her appearance in society again. Still, the thought made her stomach turn.
“Tell me, are ye still being besieged by suitors?” she asked. “It sounds as though you don’t need my help.”
“Oh, not for flirtation.” She sipped her tea. “But you know I would like another Season at least before marriage. Some of them are still asking after you. For all the young ladies of London are disappointed that Adrian is no longer on the market, the gentlemen are disappointed that you have gone.”
“If they had wanted to marry me so desperately, they ought to have offered for me,” she said.
“Well, Lord Moreton hardly had the chance.”
Isobel watched Eliza, who was watching her just as intently. This question was as much a test for her as her question about suitors had been a test for Eliza.
Interesting. So, Eliza had noticed something, even if she didn’t know what.
But she couldn’t afford to tell her friend, even if part of her wanted to.
“And he won’t get the chance now,” she said lightly. “But I doubt he’s all that concerned.”
Eliza held her gaze for one long second before turning away with another easy smile.
“He’s asked after you a few times, but I suppose he was merely put out that he never so much as got a chance to dance with you before you married.”
“He asked after me?” Isobel asked, her voice a little higher than usual.
“A few times, but don’t worry, I got rid of him for you. I can’t say I like him an awful lot. You know what they say about younger sons.”
“I don’t,” Isobel said, intrigued despite herself. “What do they say about younger sons?”
“Oh, merely that they were never born to inherit and thus are no good at the role in which they find themselves.” Eliza shrugged. “He is a marquess now, but I think I can do better.”
“A duke?”
“A better man.”
The two ladies laughed, but when Eliza left, Isobel remained where she was, sitting quietly.
For one glorious week, she had lived in safety, but it was time to venture back into society.