Page 4 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)

Chapter Four

“ G ood morning,” the duke told her, his voice chilled.

Isobel had woken to clear skies. The storm had blown itself out overnight, and although she had spent several hours listening to the howling winds and rumbling thunder, she found herself surprisingly well-rested as she rang for her maid.

Her accommodation had been to her taste, it seemed. At least, the bed was particularly comfortable. Isobel despised that fact. She’d rather have been made to sleep on a pallet with straw. Then, at least, she could level that accusation in the duke’s smug, infuriatingly handsome face.

She had dressed in her best morning gown, presuming that she would finally meet the duchess, and had made her way downstairs to the breakfast room.

A footman had led her in, and she’d stopped on the threshold when she found the duke already there, a newspaper spread before him and his plate piled high with plumb cake and toast and other delicacies. A teapot steamed in the middle of the table.

It was a disconcertingly domestic image.

He cut that dark gaze to her, and she felt her heart pound in response. That was how prey usually felt in the presence of a predator, she reminded herself. Except fear was not the emotion red-hot in her blood.

No. She didn’t want to think about what that emotion was.

She slid into the chair as far from him as she could manage. “Good morning, Yer Grace.”

“Did you sleep well?”

She scowled at the thought that she had. “Yes, thank ye.”

His fingers tightened infinitesimally on his teacup, which looked absurdly small in his large hands. Perhaps he had also been hoping that she had slept badly. That thought made her scowl deepen.

“Excellent,” he said, sounding as though it was anything but.

“Indeed.” She reached for some cake of her own, slathering her slice with butter.

She placed some ham on her plate and poured herself some tea.

The duke watched her, his brow lowered in what she had come to identify as disapproval.

“What?” she asked, the knife still in her hand.

“That is a large plateful for a young lady.”

Oh, so he wanted to fight again, did he? Well, he would find her very much up to the task.

“I eat a lot,” she said blandly. “And last I checked, I dinnae think it was your business.”

“You are eating my food.”

“I am positive ye can afford it.”

His eyes narrowed, and she felt a thrill go through her. “I believe I asked for answers this morning. Do you have them for me?”

“All the answers ye need are in the letter to your maither.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, the door burst open, and a peach-silked tornado burst in.

Isobel blinked, finding that the tornado in question was, in fact, a lady. She had blonde hair in neat ringlets around her face, a round, merry face, and twinkling blue eyes.

She held next to no resemblance to the duke, but the familiarity with which she entered the room told Isobel they were familiar with one another.

“Cousin!” the peach-clad lady said, coming to a graceful stop by his side.

That answers that question, Isobel thought.

“What are you doing scowling this early in the morning? If the wind changes, your expression will set, and then won’t that be a shame?”

His brow quirked. “Would it?”

“Why, yes. All my friends tell me how handsome you are, and yet you hide it away behind your bad temper.” She giggled.

“And you are having breakfast early again, I see. Mama always tells me not to call on you early, because most young gentlemen are not up before eleven, but you’ve proven me right once again. ”

“More fool me,” he muttered, turning the full weight of his displeasure on the girl. She only laughed in the face of it. “Why are you here, Eliza?”

The lady—Eliza—glanced down the table at Isobel, and a knowing smile curved her mouth.

“Adrian,” she said in a teasing rebuke. “You ought to have told me you entertained overnight company. I see my presence is very unwelcome. Please go back to enjoying yourselves in my absence.”

The duke spat his tea across the table, and Isobel dropped her knife with a clatter.

“Oh no,” Isobel said just as the duke speared Eliza with a glare.

“This is not a—a companion ,” he said through gritted teeth. “She arrived late yesterday and the storm necessitated her staying here with me. But you should not be considering such things, Eliza. What would your mother say?”

“Oh, no doubt that I am a disappointment, and I should be more refined,” Eliza said with a shrug, picking a few cake crumbs from the plate and nibbling on them.

“But forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you, Adrian.

Truly I didn’t.” She turned to Isobel. “I am Lady Eliza. Poor, long-suffering cousin to Adrian.”

“Lady Isobel,” Isobel said.

Eliza’s eyes widened. “You’re Scottish? Bu toil… leam tadhal air Alba .” She said the words somewhat clumsily, though they were perfectly understandable. “My governess was Scottish, you see,” she said, laughing at Isobel’s expression of surprise. “She taught me all I know.”

For the first time since she arrived, Isobel laughed. The duke looked at her strangely. “Ye are the first Englishwoman I’ve met who speaks any Gaelic. And aye, I would recommend visiting Scotland.”

“I only speak a little,” Eliza said. “Only what she would teach me. Oh, do say you will teach me more. It is great fun to be able to say things that no one else can understand. All young ladies learn French and Italian. It’s tedious, and you can hardly gossip about someone in front of their face if they understand every word you’re saying. ”

Isobel laughed again. “I can see why that would be hard.”

“But now you’re here, I will have someone to gossip with.” She blinked as though coming into herself for the first time. “Why are you here? I know for certain I would have known you if we’d met before.”

“No, this is my first time in London,” Isobel said. “As it happens, I’ve come to see the Duchess of Somerset. I thought I would find her here, but it seems I was mistaken.”

Eliza’s eyes rounded. “What for? Is she to sponsor your Season?”

“Yes, that is the hope. Me maither knows her, and she was assured the duchess would help me. But—” She sucked her teeth. “She appears to be away, so I must find her.”

“Oh, a bhobain , she’s far from London. Visiting family in Cornwall.”

“Eliza!” the duke said sharply from the other end of the table.

“Peace, Adrian. She may as well know now. What, were you intending to keep the truth from her?” Eliza leaned in closer, patting Isobel’s hand.

“It is awful bad luck you came now of all times, otherwise she would have invited you to stay with her, I am certain. But there is no point traveling to Cornwall now when you need to be in London to find a husband.”

“Certainly not,” the duke said, a chill to his words.

“So of course you must stay with us,” Eliza said.

“Your mother would not welcome it.” The duke rose. “And she is not a stray for you to pick off the street and bring into your mother’s house. Lady Isobel is my responsibility, as she came to see my mother.”

“Stay here?” Isobel raised her brows. “With ye?”

“Who else’s charity do you intend to throw yourself on?” He tossed his napkin on the table. “Eliza’s mother has enough on her plate with Eliza’s debut. She doesn’t need another mouth to feed and clothe.”

At Isobel’s outraged gasp, he raised a brow.

“I saw your bag. You did not bring much with you for your Season. Did you expect my mother to purchase you new gowns, too?”

Isobel straightened her spine. “I may have packed light. But I brought money for such things, if necessary.”

“People will talk about you being in the house with an unmarried man,” Eliza said.

Adrian raised a brow. “It will only be a matter of days before my mother returns. Besides, they will whisper about a Scottish newcomer regardless. This will hardly make much of a difference.”

Isobel bit her lip. On the one hand, the duke was right—people would whisper about her being a Scot. People whispered about all sorts of things. And she hated to be a burden. Eliza barely knew her, and her mother did not know her at all.

Eliza glanced between the two, a furrow between her brows.

“Well, how about my mother sponsors you for events until the duchess returns?” she suggested.

“My cousin cannot object to that—my mother will have little enough to do but extend her protection.” Her face lit up.

“And there is a soiree tomorrow that we are invited to. You would also be most welcome.”

“Eliza!” the duke snapped. “Does your meddling never cease?”

“Well, what do you expect me to do? She is hardly going to find a husband within your walls, and I do not like the company you keep. Imagine if Isobel fell in love with one of your cronies from your fencing club?” She tossed her blonde hair.

“No, it cannot do, and it shall not. You will come with us, Lady Isobel, and we will find a husband for you.”

Isobel didn’t know why the duke objected to this when he obviously had no desire to house her.

Obviously, his sense of duty prevented him from allowing anyone else to take her on as a responsibility, but she wished he had consented to allow her to leave for Eliza’s household.

At least there, she would not have to be subject to a grumpy man’s temper.

Then again, better she was not a charity case. His mother had not sent her to intrude in someone else’s home.

“I shall write to my mother,” the duke said, a muscle still twitching in his jaw. “And I shall inform her that a Lady Isobel has arrived seeking sanctuary. When she arrives, she can make the final decision about Lady Isobel’s future.”

“And until then, we can accompany her to events!” Eliza said. “Mama won’t mind in the slightest,” she assured Isobel. “And Adrian is no chaperone, no matter how he might think he is the pinnacle of morality.”

“I do not think that.” His nostrils flared, and Isobel had to bite back a smile. “You are impertinent, Eliza.”