Page 58 of Not His Duchess


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“You did not kill each other, then?” Prudence said, sliding down from the window seat. “With all of your roaring and ranting, Brother, I was certain there would be bloodshed.”

“Prudence Wilds, you will go to your bedchamber at once!” Julianna scolded, jabbing a finger at the door.

Prudence sniffed and folded her arms across her chest. “There is nothing to amuse me here anyway. After so much melodrama, this is quite the disappointment,” she muttered, pushing past the two gentlemen to get out of the drawing room.

“Actually,” Vincent said, his gaze falling on Isolde, “I would like you all to leave the room. Everyone but Isolde.”

Teresa hurried out, forever eager to obey. But it became obvious where Prudence got her mulish, willful streak from, as Isolde’s mother immediately began to cause a fuss.

“I do not see whyIshould leave. If there is something to be said, it can be said in front of me,” she insisted. “Indeed, I have not sacrificed my rest and my peace of mind all night and all morning just to be sent away like a naughty child. No, I will not go. I shall sit here, as is my right.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Mother, you will leave, or I will throw you over my shoulder and make you.”

“You will do no such thing!” Julianna barked.

However, as Vincent moved toward her, she jumped up and rushed for the door, muttering rude things under her breath as she left. And she did not miss an opportunity to flash a disapproving scowl at Edmund as she passed by him, her loud tut of condemnation echoing back into the room.

You were desperate for us to marry not so long ago,Isolde mused, mildly entertained by the stark difference in her mother’s response to the Duke of Davenport.

“Isolde,” Vincent said, pulling her out of her thoughts, “Edmund has something he would like to say to you. I shall be just over there by the garden doors, to allow you some privacy.”

“Privacy?” Isolde repeated, casting a pensive glance at Edmund. “I do believe that is what created the trouble in the first place.”

Vincent leaned down and kissed Isolde’s brow. “Yes, but I am here this time. All will be well, dear sister.”

With that, he wandered over to the opposite side of the room, leaving Edmund to step forward.

It had been almost a week since Isolde had last seen him, and the days in between had not been particularly kind to him. He seemed weary, his broad shoulders sagging, his head slightly bowed, his lustrous russet hair not quite as neat as usual, his beautiful sapphire eyes framed with dark crescents. And every step he took toward her appeared heavy, as if he was not there of his own volition.

I could have loved you if you had not run. I really think I could have fallen for you—I mean, I was already tumbling before I knew what the feeling was.

It hurt to look at him, even in his disheveled state. Meeting his eyes, seeing his plump, tempting lips, it just sent her mind spinning back to the library… and further back, to the gardens of Kensington Palace. The growl of his voice, calling her his. So many possibilities, so many unexpected hopes, dashed the instant he had walked out of the Farnaby ball.

With a breath, Edmund sank down to one knee in front of her. “Isolde, I realize that I have behaved poorly, and I am sorry for that. I realize also that this is probably the last thing you want to hear from me, but… would you do me the honor of consenting to marry me?”

Isolde sat frozen, her lungs forgetting to draw in breath. She stared at him for a while, uncertain of whether or not she had heard him correctly. After his parting words of “I never plan to marry,” how could he be asking for her hand now? It did not make a lick of sense and, what was worse, it did not make her feel at all happy. Instead, it felt hollow and painful, like receiving a gift that had shattered to pieces on the journey.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked bluntly. “I know it is not what you want.”

Edmund’s eyes pinched, his brow creasing as it had done in the moments before he kissed her at last. As ifshewas the one causinghimpain.

“I promised to protect you,” he said. “If this is what it takes to ensure that your reputation and honor remains intact, then I will marry you. It does not matter what I want. That being said, it would be remiss of me not to be honest with you, as I have… mostly always been: I can only offer a marriage of convenience. I cannot offer you your dreams. It is beyond my capability.”

She had been enamored by the man in the mask, but she did not like the mask that he was wearing now; the façade that he was content with this decision, when he evidently was not.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Isolde replied flatly. “Now, hear mine: No, I will not marry you. I have sought a marriage of love for as long as I can remember, and I will not sacrifice that now. If you cannot offer me love, I do not want what youcanoffer.”

“Isolde!” Vincent raced over, exposing the ‘privacy’ for the fib that it was. “Isolde, youhaveto marry him. You cannot reject his proposal. I have arranged this, Sister. He has agreed. After all these years of showing that you can be obedient and ladylike, do not revert to your old ways now!”

Isolde lifted her gaze to her brother, smiling a thin smile. “If I had reverted to my old ways, I would not still be sitting in this room. Or if I had a strawberry tart to hand, I would have pressed it to my chest and pretended that Edmund had shot me during the annual hunt.”

She flashed a bittersweet smirk at Edmund, who blinked in surprise. It was the event that no one mentioned, the ‘wicked’ trick that had shoved Isolde into years of intense education into becoming a proper lady, the final straw that had made Vincent believe for a while that his sister was irredeemable; the ultimate jest that had brought Edmund close to throttling her—afterhe had realized it was a trick, of course.

“You see, youdoknow how to say that you are sorry! Now, say it to my brother.”She could still remember crowing those words as she sat bolt upright with Edmund at her side, coming ‘back to life.’ He had been wheezing in frantic gulps of breath, apologizing profusely, thinking he had killed her by accident.And when she had sat up like that, he had looked like he might keel over.

“Brother, I appreciate that you have tried to remedy this in the only way you know how,” she continued, “and I am glad that no one is dead, but I will not marry him. I want love, I deserve love, and even Edmund would agree with that.”

If you would just say that you feel something for me, I will consider it.She gazed at him, hoping that her eyes might relay the message, but she was not foolish enough to wait for a confession. He had already stated his position.