Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

“How is it you always bet on the right horse?” John asked at Henry’s side as he collected his latest winnings.

“Luck.” Henry shrugged, hardly caring what he did win or lose.

The Duke had a rule when it came to gambling. He never risked more than he could afford to lose. When he enjoyed such days as this at the races with John, he always gave himself a budget, and he never broke it.

Taking the winnings he was due, he and John stepped out of the betting stall and returned to the track, where the next race was already being prepared. The stalls were full of gentlemen and ladies, all gathered for the day with vast and impressive hats on their heads. In the parade ring, the horses were taking their turn, with their jockeys walking beside them to show them off.

“So? Has today worked to distract you from what bothers you so much?” John asked with an easy smile as he leaned on the white fence around the parade ring.

“Oh yes, completely distracted. That’s why I have such a smile on my face.” Henry pointed towards his deep-set frown.

“Worth a question.” John laughed with his words. “I always knew you’d marry.” He seemed to be having difficulty controlling his mirth as Henry leaned beside him, shaking his head.

“Can you stop laughing?”

“I fear I cannot.” John wiped away a tear from his eye, for he laughed so much. “At least I have won a bet with Eloise.”

“I thought we were betting on horses.” Henry nodded his head in the direction of the horses in the parade ring.

They both had to lean back when a spooked horse passed them, whipping its tail so wildly it nearly hit them across the cheeks.

“I may have put a bet on you that you would marry someday.” John smiled all the more when Henry frowned at him.

“Why would you bet on that? John, you knew the vow I made.”

“Yes, I do, but we all surprise ourselves.” He gestured towards himself. “There was a time I thought I’d never marry. That was the idiocy of youth and having my head turned so often. Now, I’m very happy about the idea of being married.” He turned his focus on the tallest steed in the paddock. “What about that one? Reminds me of you, so tall that everyone is staring at it. If we pass one more group of ladies who ogles you, I swear—”

“It is not that bad.” Henry brushed off the words, though he knew them to be true. He often got stared at. “Why do you think I would marry, John?”

“Granted, I didn’t think you would marry quite like this. Though you have to admit, there’s something humorous in the idea.” John shot Henry a smile.

“You are making my stomach knot.” Henry waved his rolled-up program for the day’s events in his friend’s direction. “Why is it humorous?”

“Because you were always so keen to be careful in your affairs,” John explained with a shrug. “It seems you couldn’t be as careful as you wished to be.”

“For the last time, Lady Isabella and I were not outside for any sort of assignation.” Henry shook his head firmly. “I was with another, and she just stumbled across us. Quite literally.”

Henry recalled the way she had fallen against him, and he’d taken hold of her waist to hold her up. There had been a heat in that touch, instant attraction.

“There is another element that is humorous to me too,” John remarked, lifting his head high as he considered the idea. “The fact that it is Lady Isabella you shall be marrying.”

“Why is that?”

“Yes, I think I’ll bet on the tall one. Come on.” John backed up, heading in the direction of the betting stalls.

Henry didn’t even bother to look at the horses as he raced after his friend, catching up with him.

“John, what did you mean by that? Why is it funny I am marrying Lady Isabella?” The Duke did not get an answer for some time.

He had to stand to the side whilst John placed his bet, tapping his booted foot restlessly on the grass beneath his feet. When John returned, he offered Henry a second betting slip, showing he’d placed a second bet for him.

“What’s this, John?”

“There’s a horse called Bella running.” John smiled broadly. “I thought she might be lucky for you. Come on, the race is starting.”

Henry stuffed the slip in his pocket before hastening to follow John to the side of the fence. This race was a relatively short one. They watched as the horses lined up by the starting post with some restlessness. Henry looked for his horse. She was a tall chestnut and the most restless of the lot, going around in circles.

“You’ve bet on a bad horse, I fear,” Henry muttered.

“Let’s just see how she does,” John encouraged.

As the starting pistol was fired, they both leaned over the fence, watching with the other punters as the horses raced down the green. Bella, the mare, was at the back, and Henry began to lose hope.

“What did you mean, John?” Henry called to his friend, trying to be heard over the cheering people on either side of them. “About it being humorous that I was to marry Lady Isabella of all people?”

“I see you do not remember her.” John continued to laugh. “Henry, long ago, before your mother had passed and you made this vow to your father, you were back here in London between your trips to Europe. You told me you had a rule not to dance with any lady on her debut. You remember that?”

“I do.” Henry’s eyes widened as the mare suddenly began to sprint faster, eating up the ground between her and her opponents. “Ladies at their debuts are usually silly with excitement. I couldn’t handle that.”

“Yet, you broke that rule. Once.” John turned to face him with a small smirk. “There was one lady you danced with at her debut, and do you know who that was?” Henry shook his head, though he had a feeling he knew what answer was coming even before he heard it. “It was Lady Isabella.”

This time, Henry recalled the memory clearly. He had actually escorted his mother to a ball that night. Petra hadn’t fallen sick yet and had been keen to attend such balls. Gregory would certainly never take her. Henry was back between trips to France and Spain, and he had taken his mother himself.

That night, he had been captivated by the green-eyed lady at her debut. She was striking but not traditionally beautiful. Whereas most gentlemen wanted pretty and elfin features, Isabella had been different. She was curvaceous and tall with willowy limbs, and her face had bold features with full lips and high cheekbones. It was little wonder he’d asked her to dance.

What a dance that had been.

“God’s blood,” Henry muttered aloud and shook his head. “I completely forgot about that. How had I forgotten that?”

“It was just one dance out of many,” John reminded him. “You went back to the continent after that, and then you had the whole ugliness with your father.” He shuddered at the recollection. “I guess it was easy for you to forget it.” He suddenly grinned. “By the way, Henry.”

“What?”

“Look that way.” John pointed to the racing track.

Henry returned his focus to the race as the mare came up to the second place. She was so close to the leading horse that Henry began to cheer her on, shouting for Bella to pip the leader at the post. He called along with some others beside him in the stall. It came right down to the wire, but she pulled ahead at the last second. It was a thrilling win as Henry retrieved the betting slip from his pocket and waved it in the air.

“Do you want your bet back?” Henry asked as they returned to the stalls.

“No, I made that bet for you. I thought it was too serendipitous for the horse to be named Bella.”

“I don’t believe in serendipity,” Henry called back to his friend as he ran ahead.

“Do you believe in luck? You might need it if you are going to be wed!”

“Don’t remind me,” Henry muttered under his breath as he collected the winnings from the bet.

As he counted out the money, he became distracted and had to count more than once to be sure of the amount. He found his mind was on other things completely.

How could I forget I danced with Lady Isabella once?

* * *

“So, you will be a duchess?”

Susan’s question had Isabella’s hand stilling over the cards.

Isabella and her sisters were playing cribbage, something she generally preferred, yet they always seemed happy to join in with her. This evening though, the game appeared more like an excuse for her sisters to grill her with questions.

Susan pushed one of the candles that lit the parlor away from her elbow as she fixed Isabella with an unblinking stare.

“Yes, I suppose I will be,” Isabella replied, “though I hadn’t thought of it like that. I will be a duchess in name.”

“Goodness,” Irene muttered. “I don’t think our father ever expected you to make such a marriage. What I mean is…” she trailed off, realizing how her words sounded. Blushing bright red, she lifted her hand of cards in front of her face.

“Irene, you do not need to fear me.” Softly, Isabella took her sister’s wrist and lowered the cards. “I know very well what you mean. I have seen for the last few years that I am not what a husband seeks out. How many times has our father lectured me, repeatedly, on how a gentleman wants a wife who is not so spirited? How he wants a lady with accomplishments, who can play the piano and do other such fine things?”

“You can sing,” Susan pointed out.

“Barely, and I sing for my own amusement, not as a performance. I do not have the confidence for that, and that riles our father even more.” Isabella shrugged off the idea. She hadn’t been bothered by her father’s lectures, for she was happy without a husband. “No man wants a bluestocking for a wife, that’s what he said.” She sighed deeply. “Yet, I am marrying despite all our expectations.”

Isabella still felt numb about the idea, uncertain of what to think. Despite her words, the Duke had insisted on marriage. What had shocked her more than anything was his attitude towards her dowry. He had told her it could be hers. That had riled her father in some respect. He had ranted over dinner about him saving for a dowry when it had turned out that the Duke of Sutterton had no need of it. When Isabella had pointed out that the dowry should have been double what it was worth now, her father had become angrier still.

He has gambled the rest away, I know it.

The Duke refusing to take her dowry, though, had been an act of kindness, something she hadn’t expected after reading about his rakish ways. She had thought he would be just like her father, yet that had been the first thing that had suggested he wasn’t.

“Perhaps it will be a good marriage,” Susan said softly. “You never know.”

“Unfortunately, I do know.” When Isabella heard the sounds of a carriage, she placed her cards on the gaming table and stood to her feet. Crossing to the window, she looked out across the street. “The Duke of Sutterton is known for being a rake for good reason. Once he marries me, he will not change. I believe he will have mistresses, regardless.”

She knew she shouldn’t mind such an idea. After all, she hadn’t wanted to wed, so, why should it bother her? She guessed it was the idea of being embarrassed in what would be her future home.

If he ever brought a mistress back to that house… it would be unbearable for me to watch.

“Who is it? Has father returned?” Irene called, gesturing towards the window.

“Yes,” Isabella said tightly, watching as the carriage pulled to a stop and her father clambered down.

Yet, he wasn’t alone. A lady followed him, and judging by the clothes she wore, she was one of the courtesans from the theater he had been to that evening.

Determined to protect her sisters for as long as she could when it came to the extent of their father’s depravity, Isabella abruptly closed the curtains.

I swear that man has a new woman here most nights.

Her sisters looked at her, but they didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Let us talk about something else for a while,” Isabella suggested and returned to the table. “Let us play.”

The three sisters tried to absorb themselves in the card game, but after a few short minutes, Irene and Susan were back on the subject at hand.

“I still don’t understand how you and the Duke could become so entangled,” Irene said slowly, as if wary of upsetting Isabella.

“It just sort of happened,” Isabella uttered in a small voice. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.”

Susan softly patted her hand. “We know you didn’t mean for it to happen,” she whispered.

“Our father does. Oh, even the Duke of Sutterton suggested I could have done it on purpose.” The mere thought had a lump forming in Isabella’s throat. Something about the whole situation felt wrong to her.

She was going to marry a man she had not stopped thinking about for years. Yet, the man she had thought of was merely an idea, not the real man himself. She had thought of the Duke she had danced with at her debut, not the rake he had become.

A light tap at the door had them all turning their heads.

“Come in,” Isabella called. The housekeeper appeared a few seconds later. “Ah, Doris, is all well?”

“Yes, My Lady.” The way Doris glanced backwards and hurriedly closed the door behind her suggested to Isabella that the housekeeper had also seen the courtesan come into the house. “This has just arrived for you, My Lady.”

“Thank you.” Isabella took the proffered letter and broke the seal.

She didn’t pay attention to the seal imprinted in the red wax, too distracted thinking about her father’s brazenness to have such affairs with his daughters in the house. Eventually, she turned her focus to the letter.

Dear Lady Isabella,

I am writing to inform you that I have received our special license. We are to be married in three days on Saturday. I shall confirm the arrangements with your father.

Yours faithfully,

The Duke of Sutterton.