On a Wild Duke Chase: The Wayward Woodvilles Book 2 Read online

"You make a handsome pair. After lunch a drive about the park I think would be nice for you both. What do you think, my lord?" Mrs. Woodville asked of him, nodding to the butler to commence service.

  "I think that would be lovely indeed," Mr. Woodville agreed with his wife before he could answer.

  Duke looked at Isla and hoped her parents did not notice that their daughter was less than pleased at being seated beside him or having to go out on a carriage ride. They had started as friends, and although by his own stupid actions they were now betrothed, he would win her friendship and mayhap more in the weeks to come. He had asked for her hand to save her reputation, with a large dowry or not. That had to count for something.

  "I have a headache, Mama. I do not feel like a carriage ride today," she said, thanking a servant who placed down the first course of turtle soup.

  "I will send a parasol with you, my dear, and have a tisane made up before you leave, but you really ought to be seen together. It has been a week, and neither of you has been seen in society since Lord and Lady Collins’ ball. We do not want anyone to think anything is amiss, do we?" Isla's mother stated, pinning him with a look that brooked no argument.

  Duke nodded, not willing to go against anything Isla's parents said. The remainder of the lunch passed in reasonable benign conversation. Isla continued to give one-word answers, even when her parents queried this or that regarding the wedding.

  Their afternoon carriage ride would not be pleasant, he feared.

  A little after lunch, he helped Isla up into her family carriage, following close on her heels. She sat as far away from him as she could on the seat, a mulish look on her face. "You will have to speak to me at some point, Isla. We're to be married after all."

  "Yes, do not remind me of the fact that the very man I'm marrying is one I do not love and who does not love me in return. But I would think he is quite pleased with the turn of events now that he knows that I'm an heiress."

  The carriage rolled forward along the square, and he sighed, unsure himself how to go about fixing all that was wrong between them. "I'm sorry this is not what you wanted, and I should not have followed you into the retiring room. I compromised you and had no choice but to offer you my hand in marriage. You must see that."

  "I see that very well, but why you followed me, I cannot fathom. You had just finished telling me you could not marry me because I had no dowry. You ought to have left immediately or, better yet, never come into the room at all. You have stolen my chance at a happy marriage with someone else."

  He ground his teeth at the thought of her with anyone else. He leaned close to ensure privacy. "Your kisses tell me that no one else would have sufficed as your husband. You want me as much as I want you, and my following you that night was because I could not bear to see you in pain. Why did you not tell me you were an heiress? Why lie to me about that?"

  She twisted on the seat, their noses almost touching. "Oh, what a terrible person I am to want my husband to love me, even a little bit more than he loves my money. Did you find out before Papa told you today of my dowry, or did you follow me that night at the ball because you knew how much I was worth?"

  Never in his life had he wanted to strangle a woman as much as he wanted to strangle and, damn it all to hell, kiss the chit before him as he did right now. "I did not know you were an heiress until today."

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "How fortunate a turn of events for you, Lord Leigh. Now you may save your estates and live life to the fullest, as you obviously have been doing in excess already." She turned to look out the side of the carriage. "No doubt we will soon be as poor as you are now if you spend money enough that you have run out of your inheritance already."

  "You are cruel when you want to be," he said, her gasp making her mouth pout in the prettiest manner. "Please keep going past the park," he ordered the driver. "We shall drive around Mayfair instead for a time," he said, not wanting the ton to witness their disagreement. "I never lost my inheritance," he continued. "Other than the houses, I inherited nothing but debt. My father is the reason I was left with very little."

  "Very little indeed. Only an estate, a London town house, servants, land, and a title. Oh, but I do agree with one point. You were left with very little integrity."

  He wanted to tell her of his mother. The real reason he needed a rich bride, but he could not. She would call off the wedding, no matter the scandal, and he could not afford that, for he did need her dowry to save all that he owned. But if Isla found out before the marriage was consummated that his mother was in Bedlam, she would run screaming for the hills.

  No family wanted madness to run through their blood even though he was yet to confirm or deny such truth. Not until he met with his mother would he know for certain.

  But no one would believe him, even if the secret was to get out now and then a rebuttal. They would assume he would go mad one day just as his mother had presumably done. And any heirs he sired after the fact would befall the same fate.

  He needed to have his mother returned, pay to have her erased from Bedlam's files, and have her helped here if she did indeed suffer from disabilities. Try to give her some future that was better than her past. He required Isla for this, but he could not tell her that. One day, but today would not be it.

  "I am sorry you are being forced to marry me, and I'm sorry you think that I knew of your financial worth before following you that night, but I did not. I swear on my life, I only knew what your marriage portion will be as of today. I know it is not what you wanted, but please let me try to make a happy life for us both. I do want to be the best husband that I can be. You are, after all, saving everything I hold dear, and I do not want to see you angry and upset."

  She crossed her arms over her chest, a muscle working in her jaw.

  "There is something between us that is more than anger and differing opinions, and you know there is. We could not keep our hands off each other at the house party, and had we not been interrupted at Lord and Lady Collin's ball, I would have kissed you again. That is a good start, Isla. A good base to build from."

  "Lust is not a base for marriage," she said finally.

  The word coming from her lips made him inwardly groan. "We were friends first before you overheard my conversation."

  "And found out what type of man you really are."

  He sat back in the seat, taking a deep breath to calm his ire. The woman was so difficult, he wanted to strangle and kiss her in equal measure. However would he get her to trust him again?

  Tell her the truth…

  He couldn't just yet, but soon. As soon as they were married, he would tell her. He knew that too was wrong. She could possibly hate him even more for what he would disclose, but it was a risk he had to take. He would not allow her to be ruined due to his error of judgment, and nor could he stand to lose her. He wanted Isla far more than her dowry.

  "We have three weeks before the wedding. I shall wear a blue gown. Ensure you're wearing a suit that is complementary to the color."

  "We do not need to discuss the wedding yet. I thought we may take this time your parents have granted us for you to ask me any questions about my home in the country or where we shall reside after the wedding."

  "You have two homes, is that correct?" she asked him, still not looking at him.

  "I do, one in Hampshire and the London town house on St. James Square."

  "I would like to see it," she said, meeting his gaze for the first time. "Now, if you please."

  Duke hesitated at her request. "I'm not sure that is wise, Isla. We are not married yet."

  "Lord Leigh's town house on St. James Square, if you please," she called out to the driver.

  He cringed but did not dispute her request. Her anger at him already meant he would not say anything else to displease her. In truth, the thought of her seeing his home, the meager amount of servants, the dust, and empty library shelves and rooms were more alarming than any of the ton seeing her enter his abode.

  I
t was shameful but better for her to see just how poor he was now before the wedding and not on their wedding night.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  Isla knew she was being particularly cruel to Lord Leigh. Cutting and accusing him at every turn for the wrongs he had done against her. She ought to try to make the marriage one that was at least a little less galling, but she could not.

  She was angry at him, and now she wanted to see what her future home looked like. Upon entering the town house, all her hopes that she would walk into a house full of joy and love just as her own had fled. The house was stark, few paintings hung on the walls, family portraits only, no pretty vistas of rural life such as one often sees.

  "This is the main foyer." He walked her over to an older gentleman who stooped a little as he stood waiting. "Fordham, this is Miss Isla Woodville, my betrothed, and soon-to-be Viscountess Leigh."

  The older man smiled, bowing his head in welcome. "It is lovely to meet you, Miss Woodville."

  Isla smiled, pleased to meet him as well. "Thank you, Fordham," she said.

  Duke cleared his throat. "I'm going to show Miss Woodville the town house. You may go about your work, Fordham," his lordship said before the servant hobbled off toward the back of the house.

  They walked toward the front of the house and into a library, Isla speculated. The empty bookshelves looked stark and bare, and she wondered how very bad Lord Leigh's financial woes really were. Had he sold everything that was not entailed?

  Nothing but stark walls, an unlit, blackened fireplace. Some chairs and a small table covered with dust cloths were left. The only identifying object this was once a library, the desk.

  Isla pushed down the pity that rose within her at Lord Leigh's living conditions. His life would change, thanks to her and her money.

  "I suppose one of the first things that my funds will have to do is purchase some books for this room. It is a library, is it not?"

  He leaned on the desk, his face ashen. "How you must hate me to speak to me in such a way. I am sorry, Isla. I do not know how many times I must tell you how sorry I am."

  He would have to tell her many more times before she believed or forgave him. She strolled about the room, closing the library door as she moved past it. "I do not mind buying things for our home, Lord Leigh. In fact, I think I have more than enough dowry to fill many homes over, but I wanted to come here today to give you some rules that I shall not allow to be broken. Even if the moment we marry, I'm no longer in control of my life or the money I bring to the union."

  "What are your terms?" he asked, hoping that this may be a step to move past their constant bickering.

  "I do not care that the money may be required to pay off debt accrued by your father or yourself since his death. Repairs of your estates and those of your tenants. I do not mind paying for horses or new vehicles, but I draw the line at paying for your whores or gambling from the day we marry. If you squander my fortune at either of those locales, I shall leave you, and no matter if you're a viscount or not, you will have a wife in name only. I shall make your life a living misery, and do not think I shall not."

  He studied her a moment, seeing the truth in her blue eyes. He nodded. "I can agree to those terms." He would do anything if only she looked upon him kindly again. He hated that their marriage was starting on broken dreams and lies. "No matter what you think of me, I do want to make you happy, Isla."

  "Hmm," she said, going over to the window and looking out onto the square. "The few months that we were apart, after the house party, what have you been doing with your time? Are there going to be any ladies accosting me at balls throwing snide remarks at me that I have tricked Lord Leigh into matrimony?"

  He came over to where she stood, watching her watch the world go by out on the square. "I have not bedded a woman since before the house party in York if that is what you're asking. There has been one particular lady that I cannot get out of my mind."

  She did not react to his words, and he wanted to smash that layer of ice she had pulled about her like a cloak where he was concerned. "I hunger for our wedding night, Isla. If you only knew how much I want you. All of you."

  For a moment, she did not reply. What was she thinking? More terrible things that she had no issue telling him to his face. Not that he was feeling sorry for himself, he deserved her wrath, but they would be married and be man and wife. They had to move forward from this rift.

  "Is the rest of the house similar in despair as this room?" she asked him, walking over to his desk and running her hand along the wooden top before leaning one hip against it.

  "Yes," he shamefully admitted.

  "I will start tomorrow ordering new furnishings and furniture. I do not wish to move in here with you in the state that it is in now. Our wedding day will be miserable enough, nevertheless having to come back here and live amongst this squalor."

  He came up to her, something he seemed to be doing a lot of. Following her about like a lost puppy. Whatever happened to Lord Leigh, the rake who did whatever he wished? He drank her in and knew what had happened to him. Somewhere and at some time at Lord Billington's house party, he had fallen in love with Miss Isla Woodville. And somehow, she had pivoted to hate him. However were they to return to common ground?

  Especially when he still had not been wholly truthful to her.

  "Are you going to hate me forever, Isla?" he asked, dreading her answer.

  She pursed her lip and sighed. "Quite possibly. I do not like to be used, which I feel has happened. When you thought I was without a sizable dowry, you ignored me after we had been caught alone. That is all I need to know of your character." She pushed past him, striding for the door. "I will see myself out and home. Good day to you, my lord."

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  Isla only reached the door handle when a hand moved past her and held the door shut. "I also have terms for our marriage."

  She raised one brow, turning to stare up at the man she had wanted with all her heart the moment she had met him at the house party. Only to find out he did not want her in return. Not as a wife in any case. As a lover, she was certain he would have been more than eager, so long as he could have married his rich heiress.

  Bile rose in her throat at the thought. And now he had gained all that he wanted, and she couldn't stop the burning anger that thrummed through her each time she thought of the fact.

  "I hardly think you're in a position to demand terms, my lord."

  "My name is Duke, and no matter the circumstances of how we came to be betrothed, you will marry me, and I will be your husband, and as such, I demand certain favors too if I'm to follow your rules."

  Isla leaned against the door. "And those are?" she asked, her tone mocking even to her own ears.

  "Do you remember when we first met at Billington’s? How well we rubbed along together?"

  Heat licked at her skin at the reminder. The decadent kisses that even now threatened to make her toes curl in her slippers. She wanted him still, as angry as she was with the rogue. That they were alone had also not slipped her notice. "Before when you said I was not rich enough for you? Yes, I remember that time well."

  His mouth thinned into a displeased line before he said, "Those are my terms. I want what we had then. I want to kiss you whenever and however often I want. I want to bed you." His hand slipped along her waist, squeezing her curves. Her breath hitched as his hand grazed the underside of her breast. "I want to kiss you now. Remind you how good we are together."

  Isla swallowed, her body a kaleidoscope of desire and need. She did not want the man in front of her. She hated him for the conniving liar he was, but she also could not deny that she had always been attracted to him. Had wanted him before he hurt her so badly.

  "Do as you will," she said in a bored tone while her blood pumped hard and fast in her veins. She may sound nonchalant, but she was anything but. Her body felt afire, ready and aching for him to touch her. Kiss her, do anything he l
iked to her. She doubted she would protest.

  And then, wickedly, he did.

  His mouth slammed down on hers, his tongue thrusting against hers, tangling and mating in a dance of desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, molding her body to his. The time since she had tasted him, kissed him, felt his hands on her body too long. Duke needed no further urging. He lifted her up, carried her over to the settee, and lay her down atop the dust sheet.

  Plumes of dust puffed into the air, and she laughed. Her amusement soon faded at the wicked, determined light that entered his eyes. He kneeled at the base of the settee, reaching for her gown and pushing it up her legs. She did not stop him, merely watched under her lashes as she allowed his wickedness.

  She loved that he made her warm and ache between her legs. He held her eye as he slipped his hand along her inner thigh, squeezing it every now and then. She shivered, opening farther for him, heedless of the wantonness of her reaction. She did not care. All she wanted was this, him and his clever hands making her shatter into a million delicious pieces.

  Isla moaned, biting her lip as his fingers skimmed her mons. "You want me. Feel how wet you are." He touched her there in slow, teasing strokes. She closed her eyes, letting herself simply feel what he did to her.

  "So fucking good." The light touch of his lips on her knee startled her. He pushed her knees wider, kissing his way up her thigh, little teasing bites and soothing licks of his tongue as he continued his way up her body.

  The blood in her veins pumped hard as his first kiss on her sex rocked through her. She lifted herself off the settee, needing and seeking more of him there. The notion of what he was doing was so unknown and new. She had no idea such a thing was possible, but now all she could think about was what else he would do to her. How wonderful it would feel.

  She moaned as his tongue slipped between her folds, lathing her, teasing her in one particular spot she had enjoyed when he had touched her with his hands all those weeks ago.