Chapter 3

CHAPTER3

“Ibelieve the words you are looking for are ‘thank you,’ not, ‘not you.’” Henry’s smart remark had Isabella tongue-tied.

Oh no, oh no, this cannot be happening!

She had run through the garden so fast in the endeavor to escape Lord Pine, she had not considered for one second that she might be running towards another man she had been trying to avoid. Now, she felt like a fool. For in dark corners of gardens, couples could be getting up to anything, especially rakes.

Her eyes shot down to their position. In their collision, the Duke had taken hold of her waist to stop her from falling, and he still hadn’t let go. Those long fingers were wide on her waist, making her breath hitch with sudden excitement. His shirt was partly open, revealing a flash of his bare chest and the dark brown hair that curled down the center.

What is wrong with me!?

She felt a mixture of attraction and anger that manifested itself in her shoving harshly against his chest.

“Do not touch me!” she ordered, then backed up.

“Wait, you are about to fall over—ah, again.”

He had taken a step towards her, apparently in an effort to stop the inevitable from happening, but it was too late. Isabella, in her clumsy way, had fallen straight over the stone bench and ended up in a tussle of skirts on the earth.

“Well…”

At the abruptly deep voice, Isabella looked up to see the Duke standing nearby. His head was tilted at an angle as his eyes looked over her now exposed legs.

“Hardly what I was expecting out here, but a pleasant surprise.”

“Heavens, does your arrogance know no bounds?” she muttered and scrambled to her feet. “Of all the people to run into out here, I run into you.”

She could have called to God for an answer to the absurdness of this. Why couldn’t it be any other man, rather than the one whom she thought about so often?

“You know who I am?” Henry asked, his eyebrows raised high.

Isabella stood tall, trying not to be cowed by the realization that he still didn’t recognize her. They had met three times, and there wasn’t a flicker of recognition on his face. Out of fear of him remembering how she had spilled her drink on him, she scrambled for a lie.

“I’ve read about you in the scandal sheets,” she explained quickly. As her eyes shot down to his exposed chest, she felt heat rush into her cheeks. “Do you now know how to put clothes on?” She covered her face and waved a hand at him. “Dress yourself!”

“Your blush suggests you do not mind my state of undress, My Lady.”

His mischievous tone had her dropping her hand from her face. He stood a short distance away from her, his arms folded across his chest and a smile planted on his features. That smile simply made his sharp and handsome features soften. It was sort of like seeing a night sky with the stars and moon shining. It transformed the darkness.

Heavens, I have no control over my attraction to this man. He is dangerous!

“Of course I mind. I am simply stunned.”

“Then keep your eyes averted,” he suggested with a wink.

“You could lace up your shirt!” She waved both hands towards him now.

“You should expect men like me, My Lady, if you wander into dark corners of gardens. What else do you expect to find out here?” he asked and stepped towards her, holding his arms outwards as if displaying himself in all his grandeur.

She felt a kernel of hatred for him at that moment. It was both a hatred for his arrogance and despair that she had run directly into him.

“I came out here to find solitude and peace from the ball. I was hardly expecting a half-undressed man.” She gestured towards him, noting the way he reached down to his trousers and seemed to check the fastener. “Oh, good Lord, was it a good job I wasn’t here a minute or so earlier?”

“You could say that.” He looked off down a path through the dark yew bushes, as if searching for someone.

“What have I walked into?” Isabella muttered in alarm and turned madly in a circle.

She couldn’t believe that after all her years of knowing the Duke of Sutterton was a rake, she had actually walked into one of his nightly exploits. It was a cruel thing to face after being so attracted to him.

“I should encourage you to walk on, My Lady.” The Duke gestured towards the path she had come down.

Isabella turned round, ready to escape that way, when she stalled. Despite Irene’s best endeavors, Isabella had caught sight of Lord Pine following her out into the garden. She couldn’t risk walking back and running straight into him again. That man had such wandering hands that he might take advantage of having her out here alone.

“I can’t go that way,” she muttered, then backed up as much as she could.

She was not even thinking of where Henry was, so when she walked into him again, she startled herself. He took hold of her waist, stopping the next collision.

“You have a habit of doing this,” he whispered in her ear.

The action reminded her that he was one of the few men in the ballroom taller than her. For a change, she didn’t feel gangly, giant and out of place, but rather ladylike.

“You have a habit of taking hold of me too. Release me,” she ordered as she scurried away from him, rounding the stone bench behind him so that there was something between them. In the darkness, her foot got caught on something, and she slipped, falling over completely on her rear once more. “Dear God, will this night not end?”

“Do you want some help up?” the Duke asked, his amused expression back.

“No. I wanted to stay down here on the earth, with gravel in uncomfortable places.”

Her sarcasm made Henry tilt his chin back and laugh raucously. It was a different kind of laugh compared to what she had heard before. Rather than the snickers and chuckles he had just shown, it was a full laugh.

She pushed the gravel out from the heels of her shoes and off her legs and moved to her feet, only halting to bend down and lift what she had tripped over. She found a tailcoat in her grasp and turned to look at the Duke.

“That’s mine,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I thought it belonged to the bench.” She tossed the jacket in his direction, watching as he laughed once again. “Cover yourself up, for goodness’ sake.”

Henry pulled the jacket over his shoulders, yet he didn’t lace up the shirt beneath. There was also a waistcoat missing somewhere. Isabella found herself turning on the spot, frantically searching for it so she could throw it at him too.

“Why don’t you take your leave back the way you came if you do not want to see me so undressed, My Lady?” he taunted her, gesturing towards the path she had come down once again.

“I cannot go back that way,” Isabella answered simply, fearful of meeting Lord Pine. “I have come to take refuge out here. Perhaps you are the one who should flee, as I have so clearly interrupted your nighttime exploits.” She gestured towards his state of undress.

“Such a derisive tone.” He tutted with a smirk on his lip. “The lady I was here with a few moments ago did not seem so derisive.”

“I am not that lady!” Isabella snapped, amazed at how easy it was to be angry with this man.

He ignited something in her, a fury and an attraction that was baffling.

“I noticed.” He actually rolled his eyes.

Isabella could have been transported back three years to when she had last seen him. All at once, she was standing in Almack’s assembly rooms, where she was building up the courage to talk to the Duke of Sutterton. She’d approached him, her hand shaking so much that, when he had turned to face her, the glass had slipped from her fingers. The liquid had spilled out over his jacket, and people nearby had turned to face them at the sudden curse that had escaped his lips.

He’d looked at her with that same expression then, before turning his eyes up to the sky as if pleading with the heavens for help to bear with this moment.

“If my company upsets you so, Your Grace, then you should be the one to go.” She gestured towards the lane, desperate to be away from him.

This place amongst the dark yew bushes seemed like a good place to hide from Lord Pine. She could easily mask herself here whilst he wandered the garden looking for her. She was reluctant to leave.

“It seems we have reached an impasse then.” The Duke shrugged as if it was no great matter.

He is amused by this meeting. That is all this is to him, an amusement.

Such horror filled Isabella that she was seeking out all sorts of insults to hurl at him when a sound reached her ears.

“God’s blood,” the Duke whispered as his own smile fell.

Voices were growing nearer, and footsteps too.

“I have to get out of here,” Isabella murmured, then backed up. She nearly collided with the stone bench again but managed to circle herself around it this time. “If we are seen together… With you like that too…” She gestured between them.

“I know!” Henry hissed. “Shh. You have to be quiet.” He hunched around the stone bench, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly out of fear that someone would walk into the clearing at any minute.

“How can I be quiet? We have to part ways now—hmm!” Isabella could say no more, for the Duke latched a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened at the audacity of the touch.

“If either of us runs out now, we will be seen,” he murmured, his words reminding Isabella of the terror of this moment. “Go back the way you came, they will see you. If you take this path.” He nodded his head towards the second path through the yew bushes, one so narrow she hadn’t seen it before. “And you will be seen, regardless, by those on the terrace.”

“Hmm—hmm!” She tried to speak against his hand, but it was no use.

“You have to be quiet, and you have to trust me if we are going to get through this unseen.” He glanced over his shoulder as the voices were getting closer.

They were ladies muttering between themselves, talking animatedly.

With his distraction, Isabella lifted her hand and took his wrist, tearing his hand away from her lips.

“You expect me to trust you? Oh yes, a perfectly wise thing to do, when I have just walked in on you in a tryst in the garden, half undressed with God knows who—hmm!” she complained as he latched his hand over her lips again.

“I know how bad it looks,” he assured her, stepping closer. “Hardly a situation to encourage trust, but you’ll have to. Oh God, they’re nearly here.”

Isabella could hear the voices distinctly now. Lady Eloise’s mother, Lady Travers, was amongst them. She knew that tone well enough.

“I can scarcely believe this is where my daughter will be living. What a house to call home! Quick, come this way, ladies. There is quite a secluded spot in this beautiful garden. Here, we can gossip where no one will hear us.”

Isabella could see the Duke’s eyes widening. The blue orbs could have been silver in the moonlight.

“Hide back there, now,” he whispered, pushing her towards the opening of the second lane.

Isabella tried to retract herself from his grasp and turn towards the lane, but her foot somehow ended up latched around his own.

“What the…” he trailed off as he tried to push her away, but it was too late.

She was falling. Her clumsiness had chosen the worst possible moment to take effect, and she found herself tipping towards the Duke.

The two of them fell down onto the earth, Henry’s body hitting the gravel so much that the stones scattered away from them. Isabella fell on top of him, colliding with him in such a way that one of her legs fell between his own and both of her hands landed on his muscled chest.

Never did I think I would know such a chest…

Any marveling sensation she had for how toned his chest was she could not dwell on. The Duke winced in a little pain, with his hands around her waist, before his expression suddenly narrowed, realizing what position they were in.

“This was not what was supposed to happen!” he muttered angrily.

“You think!?” Isabella’s sarcasm made his lips flicker into the smallest of smiles, but it didn’t last. “Release me.”

At her order, he abruptly lifted his hands away, not touching her. She scrambled to get up, but in order to stand, she had to put down one foot beside his hip.

“Well, that looks no better,” he remarked, lifting his head to look at her.

“Shh.”

Yet, as she tried to stand, the voices from nearby drifted closer.

“What was that sound? Oh, heavens!” Lady Travers appeared in the clearing with one hand on her chest and the other over her lips in shock.

There were two ladies on either side of her, faces that Isabella recognized immediately.

One was Lady Bellamy, a notorious gossiper of the ton and a scandal sheet writer. The other was her daughter, Mrs. Harriet Walters, whose reputation as a gossip was almost as great as her mother’s.

This cannot be happening.

Isabella leapt to her feet and jumped away from the Duke, but the damage was done. She had been seen as good as straddling the Duke of Sutterton outside of a ball in the middle of the night. To say her reputation was damaged was the greatest understatement ever.

I am well and truly ruined.

All three ladies turned their stunned eyes on Isabella.

“Lady Isabella? The Earl of Sinclair’s daughter?” Lady Bellamy asked, clearly wanting to be certain of the gossip. “Well, well, what a story this shall make in the scandal sheets tomorrow.”