Time for a Duke (3 page)

****

Charles paced across the hall. As he walked up and down the wooden planks of the floor, he stepped on the same irritating, squeaky board each time. He knew ladies needed a lot of help dressing properly, but what was taking them so long? A shriek and a thump had Charles' heart racing. What was going on in there?

He rapped his knuckle on the door. "Isabella? Sarah? Is everything all right?"

The door opened a fraction. Sarah's blue eyes peered out at him. "Your grace, we are almost ready with the first gown." The door snapped shut.

The
first
gown? They'd been in there for almost an hour
.
He paced some more. Maybe asking Isabella to do this favor for him was unwise. Maybe she wasn't up to the task.

The creak of the door had Charles whipping his head in that direction. The door was wide open. A vision in pale pink stood before him. His breath came out in a whoosh. "Oh, Isabella…"

She swallowed, gazing up at him with brown eyes so big he thought he'd drown in their depths. To see Isabella in a ladies' gown set something spinning in his heart. Comparing her now to women of his time, she was more beautiful than any one of them could ever dream to be.

"Charles, is it… am I…?"

He wasted no time walking the three feet that separated them. "You are exquisite." A blush, pink as a sunset, colored her cheeks, enticing Charles to rub her face lightly with his thumb. Her skin was as soft as new rose petals. "You, my dear, will be the belle of this ball."

She glanced down. "Oh, I don't know about that. I still don't know how to dance. Or curtsy. Or even how to walk in this silly thing."

"Don't worry about any of that. We'll figure it out."

Isabella sighed as she angled her gaze back toward the bed. "Well, guess I'd better try on the second one."

Charles ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't finished admiring her in the first one yet. "Second one. Yes." Why had he purchased so many dresses? It was going to be a long day. The door clicked shut again as he retreated to the hall, retracing the same fifteen steps up, fifteen steps back, over and over.
Squeak. Squeak
.

What would happen when he arrived at the ball with Isabella on his arm? She was beautiful, yes, but no one would know her. They were a nosy lot, the
ton
, with their questions either asked directly or whispered loudly enough for others to hear. How would he and Isabella explain her parentage, connections, and background? He shook his head. It would behoove him to find out these things for himself, and then he'd be better armed to deflect the curiosity of his peers at the ball.

Charles knew if Isabella was tried and found lacking, the
ton
would pepper her with so many questions the poor girl would beg to be released. He'd seen it happen all too often to newcomers who weren't a part of the accepted
ton
. Many times they arrived at the ball, wide-eyed and enthralled, only to leave early, disheartened and beaten down. But Charles was determined not to let that happen to Isabella. After finding her in his closet under strange circumstances, he felt he was to be her champion, her protector. As strong willed as she seemed, he wasn't sure she could withstand the often-venomous tongues of the
ton
.

****

"Ouch! What are you doing?" Izzy rubbed her side where a pin had jabbed her skin through the dress material.

"Please forgive me, my lady, I wasn't aware of your movement. I don't wish to jab you with the pins."

"It's all right." Izzy sighed and positioned her arms and legs the way the seamstress instructed. This was taking six lifetimes! If she were home, she could have done half a day's work by now. She turned her head and glanced out the window. If she were home, she wouldn't be seeing the lush green fir trees through her bedroom window; she'd see the neighbor's ugly, rotted picket fence and the junked-out car in his front yard.

Izzy shook her head and focused on standing still for the woman altering the pink dress. It did her no good to dwell on how lovely it was here. She wouldn't be staying. At least she hoped not. The job promotion was hers. All she had to do was show up at the meeting with her boss.

Charles had rolled his eyes when it was decided the first dress of fifteen was the best choice. Think of all the time everyone could have saved if they'd just gone with it and not spent hours trying on all the others. Beautiful though they all were, this dress suited her, with the pale shade complementing her dark hair, and the delicate lace around the bodice and sleeves giving her a more feminine look than she usually wore.
Wait
. Was she crazy? A dress, one from 1812 no less, suited her? No. She wasn't going down that road. Letting herself be lulled into complacency about this time and place would only hurt her in the long run. She had a life to get back to.

Izzy glanced down at the gown. She had questioned the neckline, or rather, why there didn't seem to be one. If she weren't careful and leaned over too far, the whole world would see two parts of her that only her doctor normally saw
. What are these people thinking?
True, the dress was long and covered her legs to the floor, but no one would be looking at her legs. Since it was December, she'd think a person might want a turtleneck underneath.

A slight tug on the hem of the dress pulled her thoughts back to the seamstress. Izzy peered down at the top of her head. "How's it coming, Anna?"

The other woman tilted her head up briefly. "It's well, my lady, the pinning is finished. After you disrobe, I'll begin on the sewing."

Izzy nodded. "Thank you, Anna. I appreciate it."

The seamstress shot her eyebrows upward but avoided direct eye contact. "Y-yes, my lady."

Izzy bit her lip. Hmm. Maybe workers of the lower class weren't used to being thanked for their efforts? She'd have to be more careful what she said and how she said it, although twenty-five years of doing things a certain way would be hard to change. Like all the other kids on her block, she'd been brought up to thank others for their hard work and kindness.

Izzy stepped down from the platform and once again allowed Sarah to assist her with removing the dress and petticoats. It was hard to hold still while she waited for Sarah to tediously undo the row of buttons down her back. Everything in her was screaming to pull it off over her head like she did with her tee shirts, but it would ruin the pretty fabric and delicate buttons. She then stepped out of the dress while holding onto one of Sarah's work-roughened hands.

Next came the dismantling of the undergarments. After that, Izzy stood there in her birthday suit wishing for her fuzzy pink robe from home, because she was both embarrassed
and
cold.

She grabbed her underwear, bra, shirt, and pants from the nearby chair and quickly donned her clothing, while Sarah handed the dress with all its voluminous folds to the seamstress. The maid flicked her eyes toward Izzy but glanced away and said nothing. Was it out of respect for Izzy's supposed station? Whatever the reason, it felt wonderful to dress herself, even if her clothes were a couple of days past needing to be washed.

Sarah came toward her and curtsied. Izzy waited a moment and then realized the maid wasn't going to speak first. "Yes, Sarah?"

"If it please my lady, his grace would like you to try on the day dresses he purchased."

"More dresses? For me?"

"Yes, my lady." Sarah cast her eyes downward.

Izzy sighed.
More trying on dresses and having another woman touch my bare skin and tug clothes over my body.
She followed Sarah to a second room just off the bedroom. Standing in the doorway with her mouth open, she eyed the bed-f of clothes. Dresses, under things, and jackets were folded in piles. Several pairs of shoes, slippers, and boots stood neatly on the floor.
Charles must
have money to burn
. She wrinkled her nose at the styles with so much material. Her skin wouldn't see sunlight ever again as long as she wore them, and she knew from the experience of trying on all of the ball gowns that some were indeed scratchy. What she wouldn't give for her cotton sweatshirts and sweatpants right now.

Her attention was drawn to Sarah when the younger woman walked toward the bed and covered her lips with her hand after a small intake of breath. She lovingly ran her fingers over the material of one of the dresses. The maid's eyes sparkled as she studied the boots and shoes. Izzy watched her closely. Sarah's dress was drab and showed small areas of wear. The girl's boots, while polished, were obviously not new. Did she wish the large pile of clothes were for her?

Sarah swiveled and gasped.

"Sarah, are you all right?"

"Oh, my lady. Begging your pardon. I—"

Izzy flapped a hand toward her. "It's all right. Think nothing of it."

"Yes, my lady." The girl's face was tomato-red.

Suddenly, Izzy felt ashamed of herself. Charles had purchased all of these things for her, someone he didn't even know. Sarah, who'd likely worked for him for years, wore older, drab seconds. Maybe, if Charles didn't mind, she could see that Sarah got some of the new things.

****

"All right, Isabella, we shall try again." Charles held in a sigh, trying his best to not roll his eyes. He knew she wasn't being difficult, that her desire was to help him by accompanying him to the ball, but she didn't seem to be getting the dance steps. They didn't have much time for her to learn and perfect them. As much as he loved having her dance close to him, it threw off the steps of the dance. If they danced at the ball as they were now, tongues would surely wag. He gently moved her away from him. Again.

Isabella peered up at him. "I'm sorry, Charles. I told you I was inept."

"Not
inept,
just…" He widened his eyes. What in the world was he thinking? Had he just uttered those words out loud?
To her?

She opened her brown eyes wide. "Just what?"

He felt his face heat up. Surely it was red by now. "I, you see…"

She took a half step closer to him. "Clumsy?"

"I…"

"Awkward?" She nudged the side of his boot with hers.

"You…" He glanced at the ceiling, hoping for some helpful words to materialize on his tongue.

"Ungraceful? Hmm? What do you say to that, Charles?"

"Well…" Charles glanced down, relieved to see Isabella's smirk. His breath whooshed out all at once, as he willed his heartbeat back to its normal rhythm.

Isabella tapped her fingers on his shirtfront, causing an electric current to race down toward his stomach. "Don't worry, Charles. I'm only teasing. I know I'm not graceful."

Charles wrapped her fingers with his. "I'm so relieved. I thought—"

"What? That I'd be upset?"

"Yes, well, you see most women I've met—"

Her eyes sparkled in the pale light from the candle sitting on a side table. "I'm not 'most women'."

"I'm beginning to understand that."
Yes, indeed.
There had never been another woman who had caused such emotions in him, whom he could converse with on an intellectual level. Why could she not have been from his town? His
time?

Charles pulled one arm around her waist and kept a respectable distance while his other hand held hers. He kept the steps slow and measured, trying to help her get the rhythm first before quickening the pace.

While Isabella gazed at their boots, she bumped into Charles. Again. He stopped to rub yet another sore spot on his chin. The woman had a hard head in more ways than one. He sighed. "Let's try
this
."

She glanced up. "What?"

"Keep looking into my eyes."

"But then I can't look at my—"

He nodded. "Exactly. You're thinking too much. Just
feel.
"

Isabella shrugged her shoulders and nodded. "I guess I can't do any worse than I already am, right?"

Charles wasn't so sure about that. In his mind's eye, he pictured them tangling arms and legs, losing their balance and falling in a heap to the floor. Not that it would be all bad. There were a few activities he could think of if it happened. Nodding again in answer to her question, he peered into her eyes. He didn't know how she considered him, but he could stare at her face for a century.

"Um, Charles?"

"Yes?" Her nearness was intoxicating. He tightened his grip on her as his thoughts drifted to ravishing her lips with his.

"We aren't moving."

What? Oh…
He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, well… keep looking at me, right in my eyes, and follow my lead. Lean when I lean. Step back when I step forward and let me lead you. All right?"

She nodded. "I'll try."

Isabella kept her eyes on his. Dark, long lashes surrounded her lovely brown eyes. A small nose begged to be touched. Sensuous, pink lips, slightly parted, beckoned for his attention. Charles leaned his head closer.

"We're doing it!" she shrieked.

He gasped. "I beg your pardon?"

"Dancing. We're dancing."

Charles glanced down at their steps. They
were
dancing. He laughed. "There. I knew you could do it."

"Well, I wasn't sure. But, isn't this fun?" In her excitement, she stepped closer, brushing against him.

Charles' breath caught in his throat. A warm sensation in his stomach caused tightness in his trousers.
Good heavens, what am I doing?
He stepped away. "I think we've accomplished quite a lot today. With the dance."

"You don't want to dance anymore?"

More than you know, Isabella
. "For now, let's take a rest from dancing. How about some refreshment? I need to learn more about you."

She touched the area right above her collarbone. "About me?"

"For the
ton
. They'll have many probing questions, and you and I will need to—"

"Be on the same page?"

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Page? I—"

She laughed. "It means, be thinking and doing the same thing."

He grinned. "Yes. On the same page, then."

"Okay."

He took her hand, leading her toward the couch. Once Isabella was seated, he opened the door and softly called down the hall for Sarah. After giving the maid instructions for food and drink, he returned to Isabella and sat next to her.

She angled toward him, fanning herself with her hand. "What should we talk about?"

He pointed toward her hand. "One item would be
that
."

She glanced down and frowned. "What?"

"Fan."

"Oh, because I'm fanning myself with my hand? I'm sorry but these heavy clothes are hot."

Charles lowered his eyebrows. "But I'm afraid using your hand in such a fashion in front of the
ton
simply won't do."

Isabella shrugged. "Then what should I do?"

"Use a fan, of course."

"You mean an actual
fan
?"

He nodded. "Precisely. All the ladies use them, and there are certain ways to hold and move them."

Isabella sighed. "Of course there are. I'm guessing I'll need fan lessons next?"

"I'm afraid so. We'll get to it later. Right now, I would like to know more about you. Your heritage and your people."

"There's not much to tell. My mother is a gone and I'm an only child. My father… let's just say he and I aren't speaking. I have friends, of course, but no one close."

He reached for her hand. "But why would that be? Why would someone as beautiful and vibrant as you not have intimate friends?"

"Intimate? I don't have a, uh, man in my life."

He smiled. "Intimate means close. Trusted."

"Oh. Where I'm from, intimate means, well…" Her cheeks reddened.

"Ah, I see." He cleared his throat. "So you have no husband, then. No intended?"

"No." She shrugged again. "Just me."

"With whom do you share your home?"

Isabella frowned. "What do you mean?"

"A woman can't live alone without a chaperone."

"Trust me, Charles, women do it all the time."

He shook his head. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. But you and I will need to come up with something different to tell the
ton
. May as well give them a story they find believable. There will be fewer questions that way. At least one can hope."

Isabella nodded. "Well, I find a lot of things here fascinating, too."

"Such as?"

"Women here seem to be deemed a lower class than men." She stared pointedly at Charles.

He ran his finger around the inside of his collar. "You know, I think you're right. It is getting warm in here."

Isabella laughed. "Aha! Now I've got you."

Oh, she had possession of his attention, all right. But what he would do about it, he had not the first clue. As attracted to her as he was, she wasn't staying. And even if she did, could she ever be happy here? Things seemed so different from her time and place. He and Isabella were mismatched. Charles' heart felt heavy at the thought.

"All right. What else, Isabella? Surely more fascinates you about 1812 than that."

She frowned. "Well, there are certain things, basic things you don't have, which I'm used to in my time."

He leaned forward. "What things?"

"Electricity for one."

He leaned back again. "Oh there's electricity. I've read about its discovery. That isn't new."

She pointed toward the candle. "But you don't have indoor lighting."

"Indoor? You mean as in this home?"

She nodded.

"Preposterous."

The corners of her mouth curved up. "No, Charles. It's not. Where I live, I flip a switch on the wall and the room lights up."

He opened his eyes wide, as well as his mouth. "Incredible. Amazing."

"Yes, it is. But it's a fact of life for me, as well as listening to music in my house and my car."

"Car?"

"Uh, I guess you'd call it a horseless carriage?"

"How on earth is that possible?"

Isabella shrugged. "There are so many things that have happened since, well, now, that you'd find hard to believe."

He leaned toward her. "Tell me."

"Aside from cars, there are airplanes that fly in the air, and rocket ships fly through space."

He shook his head. "I've read of amazing things in books written from an author's imagination, but to have such things be real… my stars in heaven, I never thought I'd hear the like."

Isabella squeezed his hand. "Now you see why I miss where I'm from. It's so vastly different from here." She sighed. "Also, there's a position where I work that is promised to me. All I have to do is show up for a meeting."

Charles lowered his eyebrows. "I see. And when is this meeting to take place?"

"Right after Christmas. I… it's something I've always wanted. Something I've worked toward ever since I was a young girl."

He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "And what will change for you, once you receive this position?"

Isabella's eyes sparkled. "Total independence."

"I don't understand. Did you not tell me you live alone and work in an office? That you have no husband or intended? Is this not independence?"

She angled her glance away from him. "Ever since I was a little girl, my father has told me I wouldn't amount to anything. You see, he wanted a son and was disappointed. He never let a day go by when he didn't remind me of that fact. He said a woman wasn't good for anything but getting married and having children. I'm determined to prove him wrong. Once I secure this job, I can truly take care of myself financially. Then he'll see I'm worth something."

Charles frowned. "A husband's responsibility is to see to his wife's security and well-being. Here, men are clamoring for wives, someone with whom to share their lives. You could have that with… someone." He'd come so close to saying his own name. He could envision them spending their lives together. Never had he met someone so intelligent, imaginative, and interesting. Not to mention her physical beauty, which stirred him as no other ever had.

Isabella shook her head. "But that's the point, you see? If I depended on a man for my livelihood, then I would have proven my father right. I would have amounted to nothing."

He glanced down at their joined hands, feeling as if any joy he'd ever had, or would ever have, had died. Why would she ever consider staying here when she had all that she'd mentioned waiting for her at home? Obviously her heart's desire resided there. There was no chance for her to stay. No chance for them. His fledgling dream died soon after it was conceived.

Charles gazed upon her beautiful face as he felt his heart breaking. "Yes. I see there would be nothing of value for you here." He opened his hand, letting hers slide away, and then he stood. "If you will excuse me, Lady Isabella, I have some items to which I must attend."