Enchanting the Duke Read online

  Lily shrugged as if she hadn’t quite decided if she was going to stay.

  Isabelle stood and glanced at her new mother-in-law who gave her a nod of approval. Then she offered the girl her hand. “Will you come with me?”

  Lily bit her bottom lip in indecision.

  “I bet you would like to wear my veil.” Isabelle removed the headpiece and set it on top of the girl’s raven tresses. “Now you look like a princess.”

  Lily smiled and placed her hand in Isabelle’s. “Can Myrtle come with us?”

  “Well, of course, Myrtle can accompany us,” Isabelle said, smiling. “I wouldn’t dream of abandoning Myrtle in this crowd. Dobbs!”

  Her husband’s majordomo materialized beside her.

  “Please bring a platter of beef, an artichoke, and walnut pudding to my chamber,” Isabelle instructed the man. “And don’t forget a wedge of the wedding cake.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Dobbs turned away to do his lady’s bidding.

  Next Isabelle gestured to Juniper, who was at her side in an instant. She could tell by the older woman’s expression how pleased she was to be needed again.

  Lowering her voice so that no one could hear, Isabelle instructed, “Take my guest’s satchel upstairs and prepare a chamber for her.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Juniper said, starting to drop a curtsy.

  Isabelle reached out and stopped her old nanny from curtsying to her. “Drop the ‘Your Grace’.”

  The longtime Montgomery nanny left the hall. Holding the girl’s hand, Isabelle started to follow Juniper out but heard the murmurs racing through the assembled guests. She knew how scandalous it was for the new bride to shelter her husband’s mistress’s child, but the alternative was tossing the little girl out. Her choice was actually no choice at all. The girl needed protection from the mother who’d abandoned her. What kind of unnatural woman abandoned her own child?

  Realizing she should say something, Isabelle turned around and faced their guests. “I thank all of you for attending my wedding,” she said, “and I know you will understand that I consider this child more important than a wedding reception.”

  Isabelle and Lily left the Banqueting Hall. Gaining the main foyer, they met John and Ross returning. Apparently, they’d had no success in catching Lisette, which was a good thing. She refused to give the little girl over to a woman who had deserted her.

  “I’m sorry Lisette ruined our wedding day,” John apologized, but his dark gaze never left the little girl’s face.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Isabelle told him. “Send the wedding guests home.”

  “There is no need for that,” John said, reaching for the girl’s hand. “Gallagher will drive her back to London and drop her at her mother’s town house.”

  Isabelle stepped in front of Lily and stared her husband straight in the eye. “I’m keeping her.”

  Shock registered on her husband’s face. “You cannot possibly keep—”

  “The Duchess of Avon can do anything she damn well pleases,” Isabelle said, challenging him to refute her.

  Ross Saint-Germain burst out laughing. With all the haughtiness of a young queen, Isabelle gave her brother-in-law a quelling look.

  “Isabelle . . .” John’s voice held a warning note.

  “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Isabelle started to climb the stairs with the little girl in tow, saying loud enough for the men to hear, “Sometimes your papa behaves like a rat’s arse.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know,” Lily said. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Chapter 12

  John shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. His dark gaze followed his bride up the stairs until she and the child disappeared from view. Then he cast his brother a sour glance.

  “Now I must perform the unenviable task of sending the wedding guests home,” John said.

  “Don’t bother,” Ross said. “I’ll do that for you.”

  “This is my wedding and my scandal,” John refused, shaking his head. “Once I’ve made the announcement, I would appreciate your seeing them off.”

  “Of course.”

  Together, the Saint-Germain brothers walked down the corridor to the banqueting hall. John never loved his brother more than he did at that moment when Ross elected to stand by his side.

  Before stepping into the hall, John felt his brother’s hand on his arm and turned to face him. “Yes?”

  “Is the child yours?”

  “I don’t know.”

  John and Ross walked into the banqueting hall and paused inside the doorway. Within seconds, a hush fell over the wedding guests.

  “Relatives and friends, I thank you for attending my wedding,” John announced in a strong voice that carried throughout the hall. “Due to these unexpected circumstances, the wedding celebration is postponed.”

  Seeing the uncomfortable expressions on many faces, John realized they were more embarrassed than he was. In an effort to break the tension in the hall, he managed a rueful smile and added, “All of you will be invited here to celebrate our first anniversary . . . if my wife doesn’t divorce me after this.”

  Smothered pockets of chuckles erupted along the tables. The women still wore furious expressions, but there was nothing to be done for that. Most of the gentlemen were smiling sympathetically and probably thanking a merciful God that it was the Duke of Avon who’d been caught siring a bastard on his mistress.

  “Please finish your meals,” John added. “After which Ross will see you out.”

  “Well done, brother,” Ross whispered.

  John nodded at him and headed for the door, gesturing his majordomo to follow him. His man was there in an instant.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Tell Her Grace to bring the child to my office after the last of our guests have gone.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Dobbs hurried down the hall in the direction of the grand staircase.

  Using the servants’ staircase at the opposite end of the corridor, John walked up one flight to his office on the second floor. He poured himself a whiskey, downed it in one gulp, and then poured himself another. Sitting in his leather chair, he stretched his legs out and put his feet on top of his desk.

  John closed his eyes and pondered the day’s strange turn of events. He felt more angry than embarrassed. That little scene with Lisette had been William Grimsby’s wedding gift to him. He knew that as surely as he knew he was sitting in his office and drinking whiskey.

  He didn’t care for himself that the wedding reception had been ruined, but Isabelle deserved better. His bride was the sweetest, most caring woman he’d ever met.

  How humiliating to face his former mistress on the day of their wedding. What horrible opinions did she now have of him?

  And then there was the not-so-minor matter of withholding the news of England’s war with America. He’d intended only to make her wedding day as happy as possible and would have told her about the war in a few days.

  Would Isabelle ever forgive him? Her opinion of him was the most important thing in the world.

  He loved her.

  He loved her in spite of her eccentricities. His Mistress Nobody from Stratford was the only woman he’d ever known who hadn’t wanted to marry him for his money or his title. Hell, she hadn’t wanted to marry him at all. He had better keep his love for her hidden, or she might use it to her own best advantage. Letting his bride get the upper hand wouldn’t do at all.

  John’s thoughts turned to the little girl. Could she be his daughter? He couldn’t believe it. Lisette had never contacted him about a child. What better way to get money from a wealthy man than to give birth to his child? The girl had to be an imposter, an innocent being used by Grimsby and Lisette for their schemes.

  Even if the girl was his, she couldn’t live with him at Avon Park. No responsible gentleman invited his bastard to live with his legitimate family. Society would never accept her.

  An hour passed. And then another.
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br />   John heard the sound of knocking on the door. Before he could call out, the door swung open to reveal his mother.

  Automatically, John bolted to his feet when she walked into the study. His mother didn’t appear to be especially pleased with him. No scandal had ever been attached to the Saint-Germain name, and the last thing she needed at her age was a scandal of epic proportions.

  His mother sat in the chair across the desk from him.

  John sat when she sat.

  She stared at him for what seemed like a long time. “Is the child yours?”

  “I don’t know. Lisette was my mistress,” John answered, “but I’m positive this is one of Grimsby’s schemes to revenge Lenore’s death.”

  “William Grimsby is an ass,” the dowager announced. “Lenore died miscarrying a child, an unfortunate but relatively common occurrence. I never did care much for the Grimsby family. They lack intelligence.”

  “This fiasco certainly proves it.”

  “Delphinia Montgomery has taken the overnight guests to Arden Hall,” his mother told him. “The others have also gone.”

  John nodded. “I never would have thought Delphinia Montgomery intelligent enough to think of that.”

  “I told her what to do,” the dowager said, making him smile. “Hester and I will return to London in the morning and stifle the gossip.”

  “Mother, you are destined for failure,” John warned. “Society loves nothing better than a scandal.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Ross will travel to London with you,” John said. “I want him to investigate the girl’s parentage while I mend the damage done to my marriage.”

  The dowager rose from the chair and stared at him for a moment. “Will you men never learn to keep your pizzles tucked inside your trousers?”

  John burst out laughing.

  “I suppose that’s the way the world wags,” his mother said, smiling. ”Isabelle is an intelligent woman. Listen to her counsel. She handled the situation with finesse and sensitivity.” At that, she left the study.

  A few minutes later, another knock sounded on the door.

  “Enter,” John called.

  The door opened to reveal Isabelle with the little girl in tow.

  John rose from his chair. His wife had changed out of her wedding gown. He hoped that wasn’t a bad omen.

  “Come inside and close the door,” he said. “I want to speak with both of you.”

  Isabelle started forward, but the little girl remained rooted where she stood.

  “Come inside,” Isabelle said, her smile coaxing the child.

  “Myrtle doesn’t want to go in there,” the girl said, shaking her head.

  “Who is Myrtle?” John asked.

  Isabelle threw him a smile. “Myrtle is Lily’s invisible friend.”

  John rolled his eyes heavenward. Was he now harboring two females who had invisible friends? Well, the younger female would soon be gone from Avon Park, and his well-ordered life could resume.

  “Why doesn’t Myrtle want to come inside?” Isabelle asked.

  “She’s afraid.”

  John watched his bride gesture toward the study. “I promise there’s nothing dangerous here.”

  “The Duke of Doom frightens her,” Lily said, pointing her finger at him.

  Isabelle laughed. “His Grace is sweeter than a bowl of walnut pudding with chocolate sauce.”

  “You said he behaves like a rat’s—”

  “His Grace would never be cruel to a little girl,” Isabelle interrupted her. “Would you, Your Grace?”

  “No,” John answered, frowning.

  “His Grace isn’t happy,” Lily said, her gaze fixed on him.

  “His Grace is thrilled that you’ve come to meet him,” Isabelle said. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

  Lily nodded.

  Watching them, John marveled at his wife’s patient skill in handling the child. She would make an excellent mother for his children.

  John forced himself to smile. “Lily, is it?”

  She nodded.

  “Won’t you come inside and sit down?” John invited her. “I’d like to become acquainted with you.”

  Lily let Isabelle lead her into the study. The two of them sat in the chairs across from the desk.

  “John, I wish to make Lily, your long-lost daughter, known to you,” Isabelle said, “Lily, this is your papa.”

  “May I call him Papa?” Lily asked, her green gaze riveted on him.

  “No,” John said, his voice stern.

  Was the girl going to cry? How could he question her if she did?

  Isabelle gave him a disgruntled look and grasped the girl’s hand comfortingly. “His Grace means that he would prefer to become acquainted before you share familiar names. Isn’t that correct, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, quite correct.” John shifted his dark gaze to the child, saying, “Now, then Lily, I’d like to ask—”

  “Mistress Dupre, if you please.”

  In spite of the situation, John struggled against a shout of laughter. The girl had pluck. She reminded him of Isabelle, who was smiling at him.

  “Mistress Dupre, I do apologize,” John said, inclining his head. “Who brought you to Avon Park?”

  “Lisette.”

  “What relation is Lisette to you?”

  “My mother.”

  “Why don’t you call her Mama?” John asked.

  “She prefers Lisette,” Lily told him. “Mama makes her feel old.”

  “Who brought Lisette and you to my home?” John asked.

  “Earl.”

  “Earl who?”

  Lily shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Can you tell me what Earl looks like?” John asked.

  Lily nodded. “He’s a man, like you.”

  Isabelle giggled, and John cast her an unamused look. “What color hair does Earl have?”

  “Yellow.”

  Now he was getting somewhere. Grimsby had plotted this for revenge. He stared at the little girl until she squirmed in her chair.

  “Who is your father?”

  “You are, but I mustn’t call you Papa.” Lily turned to Isabelle. “Please, Myrtle wants to leave now.”

  “Lily, step outside while I speak privately with His Grace.”

  “Myrtle doesn’t want to be alone,” the little girl whined. “She’s afraid.”

  “Very well, sweetheart,” Isabelle said. “Sit across the chamber in that chair in front of the hearth and block your ears.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Cover your ears with your hands like this,” Isabelle said, demonstrating.

  Lily raced across the study, climbed onto the chair, and blocked her hears.

  “Can you hear me?” Isabelle asked in a normal tone of voice.

  “No,” Lily answered.

  Isabelle bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She needed to retain her righteous anger in order to prevent her husband from hurting his child and himself beyond repair.

  “How dare you speak so coldly to a child,” Isabelle said in a harsh whisper, rounding on her husband. “True greatness knows gentleness.”

  “I am trying to learn the truth of the matter,” John defended himself.

  “I don’t give a rat’s arse for your truth,” Isabelle told him. “That child has been abandoned by her own mother. I won’t allow you to badger her, nor will I allow you to speak about her as if she couldn’t hear you.”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “If you take the time to become acquainted with her, you will learn your precious truth,” Isabelle interrupted. “I will not allow Lily to be deposited on that unnatural woman’s doorstep.”

  “Do not try to force the waif on me,” John said. “Even if she is my daughter, her living beneath the same roof as us is a shocking breach of propriety.”

  “You should have considered propriety before you bedded her mother.” Isabelle gave him a contemptuous look. “You are mistake
n if you believe I care about society’s opinion.”

  Isabelle crossed the chamber and tapped Lily on the shoulder. Hand in hand, they left the study.

  John stared at the closed door. Though irritated, he couldn’t suppress the smile that touched his lips. His bride had never looked more beautiful than when she was championing the little girl.

  His smile became a scowl. How dare his bride march into his study and dictate to him. He would tolerate no mutiny in this marriage. At first opportunity, he would set her straight about who was the master at Avon Park.

  * * *

  How dare her husband dictate to her? Isabelle sat with Lily on the window seat in her bedchamber. John Saint-Germain was the Duke of Avon, and only hours ago, she’d sworn to love, honor, and obey. However, Isabelle had no intention of obeying orders based on insensitivity and erroneous beliefs. She had a mind of her own and intended to use it. At the moment, she was thinking more clearly than he. She needed to save her husband from his own pigheadedness.

  “The Duke of Doom doesn’t like me.”

  “His Grace loves you,” Isabelle said, cupping the child’s chin in one hand. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Lily smiled, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “When will he know?”

  “Only God knows the answer to that,” Isabelle answered, and then realized how much she sounded like Giselle.

  “Why is His Grace so mean?” Lily asked.

  Isabelle paused before answering and tried to think of something plausible other than the truth. She dropped her voice to a mere whisper and said, “His Grace suffers from a bowel problem. It isn’t serious, but it affects his mood.”

  “Oh.” Lily was silent for a few minutes while she considered that bit of information.

  Isabelle stared out the window at the western horizon. The dying sun was a red ball of fire. She dropped her gaze to the gardens below and thought of the wonderful times she and Lily would enjoy outside.

  “What’s that?” Lily asked, pointing her tiny finger.

  Isabelle followed the little girl’s gaze. Fires blazed on the distant, rolling hills and seemed to reach for the darkening sky.

  “Today is Midsummer’s Day,” Isabelle explained. “The country folk celebrate by lighting bonfires built of fir and oak and then dancing around them.”