The Duchess and the Spy (18 page)

“All settled then?” Maria asked, as she and Jason walked back into the room. “I hate it when lover’s spats arise, but after they are resolved, it is always the nicest of times. Theo and I don’t squabble very much, but when we do, he usually walks away from me. The two of you aren’t afraid to confront each other, and truthfully, I don’t know which one of you has the more formidable personalities.” She took a deep breath, and then continued, “A pleasant man who said he is Lord Merryville is in the entryway. He needs to meet with you, Lord Wyndham. He says that it concerns an issue of grand consequence.”

“I shall look forward to more lover’s spats with you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you insufferable man,” she said, as he and Jason left the room.

“I might be insufferable, but at least I’m easy on the eyes,” he said with a cheeky wink and a rakish smile.

“Why he does know how to put on airs, doesn’t he?” Maria remarked. “I guess that is what becomes of a boy, when they are reared to inherit the title of a marquess.”

“Actually, his father is still alive. He became an earl at birth, and when his grandfather died and his father became duke, he became the Marquess of Wyndham. Fortunately, my memory is slowly returning to me, or else I would have been in the dark just as you were.”

“Oh, my,” Maria gasped. “I had no idea that he was going to inherit a dukedom. How could I have had the nerve to talk to him like that? He must be furious,” she sighed, and pulled her handkerchief out so that she could wring it nervously in her hands.

“Don’t give it a second thought, my dear,” Isabella said, gently linking her arm through Maria’s. “I am already a duchess.”

“Oh, aye, you are. But that really doesn’t count here in England, does it?” she asked innocently. “I mean well, you’re not an English Duchess.”

“No…” Isabella said softly. “You are quite right. I am not an English Duchess. I might never be one.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, Mrs. Cornwell,” she said, sighing heavily.

Time passed by as they chatted and drank tea and then, before Isabella knew it, the maid admitted Christopher into the parlour again.

“Mrs. Cornwell, I regret to inform you that I must take my leave. There is a small matter that needs my immediate attention. I do so hope that the Duchess will not be too taxing for you, as I cannot take her with me, and I do know how trying she can be.”

“I must confess, my lord that I found her company rather amiable, and I look forward to spending the rest of the day with her. She and I have been getting along quite splendidly. You must realize how fortunate you are to have found her. I daresay by the time you are to marry you will realize that.”

“You are a dear,” Isabella murmured, rising from her place on the sofa. Walking over to Christopher, she stepped in front of him, before he could reach the door. “Why must you be so fastidious in you implacable dislike for me? I do not understand why you are portraying such feelings. I am trying to get along with you. I am trying to find something amiable in you, but now I am convinced that you are quite simply a prickly personality, that is definitely still prejudiced against me. My feelings prohibit me from marrying you, but I shall for the sake of my family. But realize this, I do not like you, not at all. It is a pity. You showed such promise to me back in France, but I see now that without your alter ego, The Wolf, you are lily-livered shell of a man.” She poked him on the chest reprovingly, and made to leave when he caught her around the waist, and bent down, pulling her off the floor. She was dangling in mid-air, as he claimed her lips, and gave her an even more sizzling and passionate kiss than he had any of the other times. She moaned with pleasure, and felt a shocking tingle run straight through her body. She trembled, as he deepened the already lengthy kiss, and when he finally released her she was left breathless and shaky on her feet.

“Lord Wyndham,” she gasped. “When I am in high dudgeon, you are supposed to leave me that way. If you think that that kiss will sway me, then you do not know me at all!” She tried to step away from him, but fell against him, as she was so vulnerable and not at all sure-footed. He instigated feelings in her that she had never believed possible.

He had procured nothing in her but disproval, and had insulted her reputation on more than one occasion, and yet he was now attempting to make love to her. Of all the pomposity!

“You will not go anywhere without the guard that I have posted outside of the house.”

“What about Jason? Surely he is healthy enough for a nice refreshing stroll through town?”

“He may well be, but that is irrelevant to you, my sweet. I have need of Jason’s service, so do not fear my dear, he will be preoccupied for the remainder of the day.”

“You should be sure to not weaken his constitution. He still needs time to recuperate from his wounds…wounds that might have killed him,” she warned, tapping him imploringly on the chest. “And he must be fit for travel, or else we shan’t be married, and that I know that would grieve you terribly.”

“His constitution is by no means weak. He is as healthy and as strong as any man should be at his age. You do not give him his due credit. Very good, then. I shall take my leave, and you shall be a proper young lady, and obey me.” With that, he flashed a grin her way that made her insides melt.

She scowled at him in return, and whispered with contempt, “I never obey anyone.” Even though he was affecting her deeply on the inside, she would not let that on to him on the outside. She would not give him that much power over her.

“Yes, but I am infinitely special,” he remarked, releasing his hold upon her, and slipping from the room, before she could rail at him again. She sighed heavily, and then returned her attention to Mrs. Cornwell.

“I must confess, Mrs. Cornwell, that I am very sorry that you had to see that awkward display. Pray, forgive me. He has a habit of acting silly when he is in the presence of others. I swear that he has no sense of decorum.”

“Indeed,” Maria mused. “You must call me, Maria. I myself believed his display of affection as being quite charming. I do believe that he is quite besotted with you.” Obviously, Maria was a true romantic at heart. How sad.

“He cannot be infatuated with me. Whenever we are together, we invariably end up quarrelling with each other. Oh, let us forget about him, he only makes my heart ache. Besides, I do not know why I must marry him we are not even very well acquainted, and I do believe that once we reach London, my family will chart another course for my destiny.”

“That may be so. However, I seem to recall Mr. Cornwell telling me only this morning that the two of you were quite close at one time. He said that you also saved Lord Wyndham’s cousin from drowning once. Why you must be quite the swimmer, and that Lord Wyndham told you then that he would forever be indebted to you.”

“Whomever told your husband that story forgot to mention that William is also my cousin, our families are related my marriage, you see. And though I took it as a compliment at the time, he has more than certainly forgotten that particular incident. Mayhap, it is for the best. I must have acted quite foolishly towards him that summer, and I would never forgive myself, if he recalled my immature behavior. I miss Will, and cannot wait to get to London, to see him. Once upon a time, I would have given anything to become Christopher’s wife, and now…” She stood up and walked to through the open window, a gentle breeze caressed her skin and made the curtain rustle.

“You should not say such a thing, for I daresay that he shall not make you an unfortunate wife. He handles you with gentleness and reverence, you will not be entirely unhappy with him. I even believe that he will be a kind and considerate lover.”

At her announcement, Isabella nearly choked on her mouthful of tea. “Mayhap, he will be.”

“But let us pay no mind, to what the men in our lives are doing or thinking. It doesn’t matter now, we must simply enjoy our tea and talk of simpler things.”

“I’m afraid that nothing in my life is simple anymore.”

“Yes, you are probably right, but my uncle’s cakes are always simply delicious. I know it’s not the thing to have such a treat with tea, but I cannot resist,” Maria said deliciously.

“They are quite delicious,” Isabella admitted, moving back to the sofa. “Your uncle must be a very skilled baker.”

“Oh, yes, he is. We shall have to take a trip to his shop, so you can meet him, and possibly buy a few cakes, and tarts to take with you to London.

“Why don’t we go and pay your uncle a visit now?” she suggested impulsively, as she reached for her shawl. “There is no better time than the present, so you must wipe that expression of disapproval off of your face. I will be perfectly safe, since my controlling future husband, has decided just how to deal with my dangerous situation. Pray, come with me. Upon my word, it shall be the best experience for me! I must confess, I do not think that I have ever been in a true English bakeshop, and I am quite curious to see what all of the fuss is about.” Maria stared over at her in amazement, laughed, and followed her out into the front entryway.

“Pray wait, just a moment. Gladys,” she said calling for their maid. Isabella waited while Maria told the maid where they were headed.

Maria produced a white parasol that would blend in quite nicely with Isabella’s dress. “Here you must carry this. You have no bonnet, and with your pale skin, the sun will ravish you. My mother always preaches the usefulness of a parasol, bonnet or hat. She says that it is only a daft woman that allows her sensitive skin to be exposed to the sun, besides, pale skin is all the rage at the moment,” Maria impishly winked at Isabella. She handed the parasol to Isabella who smiled back at her.

“I never had my mother reminding me of such things, though my Grandmamma allowed me to roam the Murray ancestral lands, with my cousins and uncle, she did ensure that I wore something to shield my head and face from the sun. She was always quite vigilant about such things, and one never contradicted my formidable darling Grandmamma. Oh, how I miss them all.

“I was raised by my Grandmother and my aunt, who was my father’s sister. I split my time between their two Estates in Scotland and ah, I had such an idyllic life until Pierre came back into it.” Pain seeped into her heart as she thought about all that she had loved and lost. “My grandmother lives with her sister, Elise, and oh, how loving they were to me and together, well, they make quite the pair. Elise is older than dear Grandmamma, and never fails to regale everyone with tales of Grandmamma as a child. She says she was quite wild.”

Maria opened the door, and they rested their parasols on their shoulders.

Isabella started when she noticed the man that had been assigned as her guard, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. Her intuition told her to run back into the house and bolt the door firmly behind her and Maria. But he had a pleasant enough face, and was dressed in the same way that Christopher’s other men were dressed. She would be safe with Maria as her companion. She truly was becoming too cynical for her own good. One attempted kidnapping had already been made on her life that day, and who in their right mind would choose to do such a thing in such a short amount of time, could only be considered moronic.

She watched closely, as the man bowed and then offered his arm to her, but she politely declined and chose instead to link her free arm through Maria’s. She watched suspiciously as he stepped out in front of her, and snorted impolitely at his impudence. He ranked lower than she, so by all rights he should be walking behind her. Besides, if danger were to fall upon her, she would need someone to watch her back.

She glanced down to see her amulet giving off a slight glow. She looked to the man again. Everything seemed so tranquil and perfect…there could be no danger lurking around the corner for her, not when everything around her seemed so serene.

A slight breeze from the sea, whirled around her, as the sound of seagulls carried to her, she smiled over at Maria, as she smelt the saltiness that lingered in the air. “This parasol is quite exquisite. Did your aunt in London fashion it?” she asked, trying to make conversation. Maria had tensed visibly, and Isabella stared in front of them to watch the uneven gait that the man had. Obviously he had been wounded at some time or another, because he didn’t walk with complete ease. But then, she didn’t either, right now.

“I don’t recall where I got it from,” Maria answered, as they walked down the High Street of town. Isabella sighed with wonderment as she saw the small church, and stared over at Maria.

“That church is so very quaint, it almost beckons to one,” she declared, making a mental note to go and visit the church before she left town.

“St. Stephens was built in the 12th century and made it through the Civil War with nary a scratch,” Maria said, “The stain glass windows in it will take your breath away.”

“I would be very obliged if you would introduce me to the vicar.”

“That won’t be a problem at all, the vicar happens to be my father,” Maria muttered, as they approached her uncle’s bakeshop. They walked inside, and Isabella wasn’t at all surprised when their guard refused to accompany them inside.

Once they’d met her aunt and uncle and purchased a few of their cakes and tarts, they left the shop. The jingling of the bell on the door contrasted sharply with the sudden grim feeling to the air. She looked around for their suddenly absent guard, and shrugging her shoulders she turned to Maria, “I suppose we should set off for Wisteria House on our own.” But as they set off, the same shifty looking man from before started walking with them. She still didn’t like the look of the man one bit.