Page 41 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

“Asleep in the study?” Isolde scoffed. “I suppose I do not need to guess where you were last night. But I should warn you, Your Grace , I do not appreciate those who would lead my brother astray.”

Edmund sighed, staring down at her with his eyebrow arched, a pitying expression upon his face. “Vincent said you had not changed, despite his best hopes. I see that he was right.”

She recoiled at that, the sting of her brother’s reprimand throbbing afresh. “Perhaps, you ought to forgo breakfast and leave. I intended to have breakfast, and your presence is rather ruining my appetite.”

“It is bewildering to me that, at eight-and-ten, you are still behaving like a child,” he said coolly.

“Always resorting to such juvenile remarks. If you ever hope to find your fairytale prince and live your happily ever after, I would suggest remedying that first. No man wants to deal with such pettiness.”

She glared at him, cheeks flushing with furious heat.

In all the years they had known one another, he had taken every opportunity to mock her for her belief in romance.

And while that belief had set her on a dangerous path at her debut, she would not let him continue to tease her for it.

If anything, her unpleasant encounter with Colin, and her rather marvelous encounter with the masked stranger, had made her all the more determined to find an exceptional love.

The kind that made other ladies swoon, and made life feel like the most exquisite dream.

Unfortunately, Edmund had a habit of making other ladies swoon. Ladies who did not truly know him, as Isolde did.

“I might make remarks that you do not favor, but at least I am not utterly unlovable,” she muttered.

“Indeed, it rather smarts of envy. Duke or not, you will never find a wife. If any lady had the choice between spending ten minutes in your company or listening to the most tedious sermon in a feverishly warm church on the hottest day of the year, they would, without fail, choose the latter every time.”

Edmund’s dark blue eyes flashed. “Envy? You flatter yourself, Lady Isolde. Then again, you always have.”

“Says the gentleman who did not bother to wear a mask to a masquerade,” she shot back. “Only someone wishing to draw attention to himself would do such a thing.”

He was about to respond, no doubt striking her with another cutting comment, when a different voice split the tense atmosphere in the eastern hallway.

“Stand down, soldiers!” Vincent’s laughter echoed as he hurried to join his sister and his friend. “I want no warfare in my residence. Like it or not, this is neutral territory.”

Edmund looked to his friend, his expression still pinched with annoyance. “I do feel like a canister has exploded in my skull. I was hoping the cook might prepare me something to ease the ache.”

“Certainly, she would be happy to,” Vincent assured, gaze darting between the two enemies. “And what of you, Sister? What brings you downstairs so early?”

Isolde cast her brother a withering look.

“I am always awake at this hour. It is you who idles in bed, so I can understand why you are disoriented. Welcome, Brother—this is what true morning looks like.” She tilted her chin up in defiance.

“As for what I am doing, I was planning to have breakfast when some oaf nearly sent me flying. I shall have a bruise on my shoulder that will entirely ruin the gowns I planned to wear this week.”

“Ah, speaking of which,” Vincent hesitated, turning his gaze everywhere but at Isolde, “Edmund will be escorting you to the week’s events and gatherings, along with Mother, of course.

I must leave for Bath by noon, and considering…

um… recent troubles, I must have a replacement here.

A replacement that I trust to watch over you until I return, so no harm can befall you. ”

Isolde stared at her brother, mouth hanging open, as shocked as if he had struck her with his hand.

“You cannot be serious! I refuse! If you mean to… to… inflict this beast upon this household, then I shall also be departing at noon. I shall go to Charlotte’s or Louisa’s—goodness, I would rather spend the Season at our country seat, in complete isolation, if him being my wretched shadow is the alternative. ”

“Charming as ever,” Edmund muttered, sweeping a casual hand through his wavy, warm brown locks.

Tentatively, Vincent put his hand on Isolde’s shoulder. “It is only for a week, dear sister. Indeed, it is my hope that it will be good for the two of you. I cannot have my dearest friend and my sweet sister at one another’s throats forever.”

“That is not your choice to make,” Isolde retorted, shaking off Vincent’s hand. “And if you do not want warfare in this house, I suggest you rethink your strategy, because this will end in tears, and they shall not be mine.”

Certain that Edmund was going to jump in with a scathing rejoinder, Isolde took off before he could, marching away from that awful man as fast as she could.

As she did, her brain raced, already conjuring up schemes for the days to come, for if Vincent would not change his mind—which she sensed he would not—then she would make him wish he had never left her in the ‘trustworthy’ hands of Edmund Connolly.

And maybe, just maybe, her masked stranger might come to her rescue once again, saving her from an interminable week in Edmund’s company.

She sighed at the thought, but the thrill of it passed quickly.

After all, getting her unknown champion to emerge from the shadows again might well be easier said than done; she had no name, she had no information, she did not even know what he looked like.

Still, there was no one more determined to succeed than a woman scorned… and a woman who believed in fate of the most romantic kind.