Page 36 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“ I hardly see why you felt the need to visit me first thing,” Adrian scowled at his old friend as he closed his study door. “I have things to be doing.”

“I heard the duchess is leaving London.”

Adrian sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Two days after his pronouncement that she would leave, and he had almost everything in place. The journey, the servants accompanying her—he had even put about a story that she was retiring to Brighton for the summer, in case Moreton should go sniffing around.

“She is,” he admitted.

“Not to the beach, I take it.”

“I would hardly risk her life like that.” He sighed as he collapsed in one of the armchairs the by the fire and unstopped the brandy bottle. “Drink? I know I need one.”

“I saw Moreton dancing with her the other day at the ball,” Joseph said as he accepted the glass and leaned against the mantelpiece. “I assume that’s why.”

“He threatened her with ending my life,” Adrian said, his voice clipped. “And of course her life is in danger so long as he knows where she is. I thought I could protect her here, but I can’t.”

“I don’t see how you can protect her better if you’re separate from her.”

“The fact is, he can’t touch her if he doesn’t know where she is. If he thinks she’s here, or better still, in Brighton, then he won’t be looking for her elsewhere. And it’ll be one less thing for me to think about.”

He pinched his nose, trying to suppress the ball of worry that had taken residence in his chest. Whenever he thought about the danger Isobel could be in, it made him want to tear at his heart and toss it into the fire—anything to make this discomfort go away.

He’d never had to endure this level of investment in another person before, except perhaps his mother, and he’d never been responsible for her in precisely the same way. There was a difference between fulfilling one’s duties to one’s estate and being fully responsible for another person’s welfare.

Especially when the person in question was in so very much danger .

Joseph watched him with hooded eyes. “And this is for her benefit?”

“I can’t have her here. You’ve met her—she’s too impulsive by half. She’s going to put herself in danger, and who will be the one pulling her free? It’ll be me. I won’t be able to focus on bringing Moreton down if I have her hanging on my coattails.”

And he’d become unacceptably attached to her.

Some space and distance might give him some perspective. A chance for him to find his equilibrium again.

Even so, something in his chest pinched at the thought of not spending his days and nights with her. Even for a short space of time, he would miss her.

Ridiculous, unpleasant thought. Yet there it was.

“What’s your plan with Moreton?” Joseph asked, and Adrian leaped on the opportunity for a distraction.

“I need to smoke him out. I have men investigating the bandits who Moreton paid off. Once I have them, I can get a statement. Proof—whatever I need. It might be enough to convict him. If not, he’ll be sent away, shipped somewhere no one else has to deal with him. It’s not unheard of.”

Joseph grunted. “That, it’s not.”

“I’d rather have his title stripped and see him hanged for his crimes, but I’ll settle for him losing the life he once had.” Adrian smiled thinly. “Once he’s no longer a threat, I can invite Isobel back to London and we can pick things up where we left off. After all, I need heirs.”

He did his best to smirk, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Joseph was silent for a long while. “You think everything will go back to normal when the duchess returns?”

“Of course. I’m her husband.”

“And you’ll have sent her away.” Joseph leveled him a long look. “You think she’ll forgive that so easily? I have my doubts, Adrian.”

“She understands why.”

“I doubt she’ll have wanted to leave.”

Adrian thought back to the fight they’d had in his bedchamber. Admittedly, he could have handled it better. Fear had gotten hold of him, made him say things he didn’t mean.

What he really should have done was reassure her and tell her it was for her own good, before welcoming her into his bed.

He’d missed her that night, and the night that followed, when she had stayed in her own room.

He just needed some time and space to grow accustomed to being on his own again. That was better for them all.

“She understands why,” he insisted, and strode to the fireplace. “The reason she doesn’t want to leave is she has some sort of ridiculous fancy that by remaining in London, she can protect me.”

Joseph sighed. “And why do you think that is, Adrian?”

“Because she feels responsible for this mess. A sentiment I can understand, but it’s too late for regrets.

I married her, and that means her burdens are mine.

And I will not have anything threaten my wife.

” He slammed the edge of his hand down against his palm.

“I won’t, Joseph. She must stay away until this nonsense is through. I won’t hear another word on it.”

Joseph raised his hands placatingly. “Then I won’t say any more about it.

But don’t blame me if things don’t go right back to how they are now.

People don’t tend to get cozy when they’re hurt.

” He tossed the remainder of his brandy back.

“Let me know if you need me, old friend. I’ll stand by you against Moreton. ”

Adrian gave a thin smile. “I can handle this on my own. But… Thank you.”

Joseph looked as though he wanted to say something more, but to Adrian’s relief, he kept quiet.

The duke paced back around to his desk, leaning against it for a moment.

Instead of Joseph, he saw Isobel curled by the fire, a book in her hand and endless questions on her tongue. He’d never known anyone to be so curious about him and the way his life worked. At the time, he had seen it as a delight, but now it just made the distance between them feel even greater.

Perhaps Joseph was right. She would not forgive him for this.

And living with that was not easy for him at all.

Eliza paced the drawing room, her eyes flashing. “Let me at him, and I’ll make him see what a mistake it is, throwing you away like this.”

For once, Isobel didn’t tell her to stand down, calm down, or do anything else that might temper her anger. The hurt in her chest lingered like a thorn, and although she knew it might grow septic, she struggled to find a way to remove it without causing more damage.

If she stopped caring about him, that would solve this entire issue, and she could go to his country estate happily, not caring if he lived or died.

But then she would have to spend the rest of her life with him, and that wouldn’t be comfortable if there was no affection between them at all. What would happen when he came to her bed?

Right now, she knew precisely what would happen, and she kept several large, heavy books by her nightstand, just in case she would have to hurl them at the duke.

“He has decided,” Isobel said heavily. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Well, tell him he’s wrong.” Eliza whirled. “Tell him that you refuse.”

“Aye, and then what?”

“And then you would remain here, in London, and I would be able to continue seeing you, and we’d put a stop to this nonsense.”

“If my marriage is to die, I’d rather not be around to have it happen,” Isobel said, rolling her shoulders at the way the thought hurt.

It hurt to think that Adrian would cut himself off from her while she was still here. And after they had been so happy together. They’d been like a shooting star—a bright blaze of glory, then ending in a heartbeat.

Just like that, all the happiness she’d felt in his arms had gone.

All because of Moreton.

The worst part was, the threat hadn’t been a surprise. He’d known, long before she’d danced with Moreton, that he sought to end her life, and probably Adrian’s as well. Yet when she confessed such a thing to him, he claimed that now she was a liability and must be removed from London.

If only he’d thought that from the start. To spare her from this hurt.

“I don’t understand why you’re letting him dictate these things,” Eliza said with an angry snap of her teeth. “You are just as much in this marriage as he is.”

Isobel couldn’t tell her friend about the threat Moreton posed, so all she did was shake her head.

“I won’t fight for something that’s already lost.”

“You should make him fight for it.”

Isobel’s heart gave another pang. The way he had shut her out of his bedchamber and told her to sleep elsewhere. Then, anger replaced her sadness. They had shared so much and she had shared her trauma with him, and this was how he chose to repay her.

“I won’t make him fight for anything,” she said. “But I won’t give him anything, either.”

Eliza stopped her pacing and stared at her with a gleam in her eye. “How do you mean?”

“Well, when he brings me back here, he might expect that I will fall into place and be his dutiful duchess, disposable and eager.” Isobel’s lip curled. “But there are consequences to actions, and if he throws me away, I will not come running back to him.”

“Oh.” Eliza dropped into place beside her. “What will you do?”

“Nothing he wants me to, that’s for certain. He thinks he can bully me into dining with him every day? Perhaps he can, but he cannae make me talk. I’m not disposable.”

“No, of course not.”

“I wanted to be here for him through everything, but if he doesn’t want that, then I won’t be giving him the satisfaction of returning and picking up the threads of our life as they were.”

“Good!” Eliza gripped her hands. “As you should. I still think you should remain here, though.”

Part of Isobel wanted to. A desperate, aching part, that burned with Adrian’s rejection of her. That part, all hurt, wanted to plead with him to let her in. To let her be a part of this life, and to let her fight alongside him. That part feared desperately for his life.

Adrian thought so much of his position that he might allow Moreton to take advantage of his weaknesses. And if something happened to him, Isobel knew she would never recover.

But the other part of her, this part anger, simmered in resentment. How dare he send her away after all this time, as though she was nothing to him? She knew he was doing so in part to protect his heart and her, but she still couldn’t stand it.

He was supposed to be her husband. Yet at the first sign of strife, he was sending her away.

Perhaps in time, she could forgive him. In time, she could forgive a lot of things.

But she could not easily forgive this.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” she told Eliza. “But don’t worry—I won’t be letting him get away with this. Not in the slightest.”