On a Wild Duke Chase: The Wayward Woodvilles Book 2 Page 12

  “No, Isla, we’ll be caught, and your parents will literally kill me before I have a chance to make you my wife.”

  “Then be quick about it,” she teased. Her request for them to be together now, here in her family’s London home, was absurd. But so too was the need that ricocheted through her. She needed him, knew that if she did not have him now, her day would be one of frustration. And she had things to do today, wedding preparations and ordering gowns for her trousseau. She could not be irritable.

  Duke clasped Isla’s hips like a lifeline. He could not fuck her in her father’s library when at any moment anyone could enter. It was madness, yet that emotion overtook his senses and made him reckless.

  He was a rogue and one hell-bent on going to the underworld for his actions. Before he could change his mind, he ripped open his falls and guided her down onto him. She sighed against his lips. He clamped his jaw, fighting to remain calm, not flip her over on the settee and thrust into her like some green lad on his first foray into the world of gratification.

  She smelled divine, of roses and something else uniquely her. Her lilac gown made the blue of her eyes sparkle with mischief. She would be the end of him. He’d come here to tell her of his mother, to give her a choice to marry him or not.

  He had not come here to fuck her, even if a part of him had hated that the night before had ended, and he had returned to his home alone. He wanted her with him, beside him. To be able to love her as he now did whenever they wished.

  “Duke,” she whimpered. The sound of her desire, the frustration and the need that thrummed through her voice undid him. He flipped her onto the settee and thrust into her with such force she cried out.

  She slapped a hand over her mouth, her other holding the end of the settee as he relentlessly took her. Adrenaline rushed through his blood, along with need. The feel of her first convulsions about his cock dragged his release along with hers, and he came hard, pumping his seed into her without thought.

  His breathing ragged, he pulled out, righting himself in his breeches and wrenching her up off the settee to settle her gowns about her ankles just at the door to the library opened, and Isla’s mother walked in with a maid carrying refreshments.

  “I thought you both may need a light repast,” Mrs. Woodville said, smiling at them both.

  Duke dared not look at his attire in fear that something was amiss. He did, however, glance at Isla, who sat on the settee as if all was as it should be. Not as if they had just had sex like a pair of rutting animals. He ought to be ashamed, be on his knees begging for forgiveness for being such a cad.

  But all he could think of was when he would have her again. She was like an addiction he could not wean himself from. Their marriage would not be one of convenience. Not for him, at least. The woman looking up at him as if she were the meaning of innocence itself meant everything to him. He loved her and could not say no to her.

  And he could no longer lie to her. She had to know the truth from him before another day passed. He would do it tonight when they were once again alone and give her a choice. He just hoped she would choose him.

  Chapter

  Twenty

  Isla walked into her sister's ball, now the Duchess of Derby, and slipped her cloak from her shoulders, handing it to a liveried footman. The house on Berkeley Square was one of the finest in London, and she looked up the stairs to see her sister and the duke greeting a long line of guests.

  "How well Hailey looks, Mama," she mentioned to her mother, who stood at her side. Julia too had come tonight since this was a family-held ball, and not too many people would naysay the duke and duchess, and certainly not at their own event.

  They made their way up the stairs before paying their regards to their hosts.

  "I'm so happy you are here. Thank you for coming tonight," Hailey said, kissing her mama first before hugging both Isla and Julia in turn.

  "The house smells divine and looks wonderful. We cannot wait to see the ballroom and dance the night away," Isla said, bussing the duke's cheeks before they moved on into the ballroom.

  The room was already a crush. What looked to be hundreds of people stood about, talking and drinking glasses of wine and champagne. "There is Lord Leigh. Let us go to him so you may have your first dance with your betrothed," her mama said, pulling her toward Duke.

  Isla took the opportunity to drink him in as they moved ever closer to where he stood with several gentlemen, most of whom had been at Lord Billington's for the house party. Several of the men whom Isla knew were privy to Duke's wishes when it came to his wife.

  "Isla, darling," Duke said, picking up her gloved hand and kissing it before placing it on his arm. "I'm glad that you're here," he said, meeting her eye, a devilish light sparkling in his blue orbs.

  "We are happy to have found you, my lord," her mama answered for all of them. "What a crush this night looks to be."

  Several of the gentlemen agreed before they returned to their conversation. "But a merry one," Lord Leigh stated, winking at Isla and Julia. He leaned down toward her ear. "I have missed you this afternoon. I cannot get you out of my mind."

  Heat coursed through her at the mention of what they had done in the library of her home. Reckless, dangerous, such silliness that she still could not believe they had partaken in such activity, but they had. A quick tumble she supposed she could term it, and never had she felt such satisfaction. Never had she wanted to do what they had both enjoyed as much as she did right now.

  "There is a conservatory on the opposite side of the house. It's some distance from the ball, and I doubt many know the house has one. We could meet there. Be alone for a time," she whispered.

  Duke glanced about the room, noting her mother’s and sister's whereabouts. "Do you think you will be able to? With your mother and sister here, will they not miss you if you leave?"

  "Not if I slip away after a dance. They will think that I have moved to another group of friends to converse with."

  * * *

  "Very well," he agreed before pulling her out onto the dance floor as the first dance of the ball was about to commence. "First, however, I must have you in my arms," he teased, enjoying the smile that lit up her beautiful face. He swallowed hard, the knowledge that he was going to tell her the truth this evening, all of his truth, left him riddled with unease.

  Would she be angry? Would she ask for the marriage contracts to be canceled? All things she could do, and he would let her, for he needed her to marry him as much as he wanted to marry her for the right reasons. Not because someone told them to because they were caught, or because he needed her money.

  But because he loved her, as much as he hoped she loved him.

  They danced a set comprised of three dances, and by the time they moved to the side of the room where a footman promptly handed them a glass of punch, they were both breathing hard from the exertion.

  "That was fun," Isla said, sipping her drink. "You are a very fine dancer, Lord Leigh. Has anyone ever told you such?" she asked him.

  He shook his head, certain they had not. "No, not that I can remember." He moved them farther away from the dance floor. "What other things are I well at, Miss Woodville? Does anything come to mind?" he teased.

  She raised one brow, her eyes darkening with understanding. "There are other things, of course, you are particularly good at. Shall we walk and discuss the matter further?" she asked him.

  "Yes," he agreed, not bothering to slip away unnoticed tonight. He walked with Isla out of the room and toward the back of the house. Isla whispered the direction, and they came across no one, not even servants, before they arrived at the conservatory, the moonlit night lighting the room from above.

  "Does it not smell divine?" she said, walking into the thick foliage of the plants. He followed. The room was so densely populated with flowers and ferns that it would not take much to lose one in such space.

  "Not as divine as you do, my darling," he admitted. Her scent would forever be his favorite. r />
  She threw an impish look over her shoulder before sitting on a stone bench. "You wanted to talk to me, and I gather that it is the same thing you wished to discuss today at my home before we ah…became distracted."

  He sat beside her, thrusting the thought of what they had done today out of his mind. He needed to concentrate, not lust after her even more than he did already. "It is the same matter." He kissed her quickly, needing to taste her one more time lest she banish him from her life forever after this evening.

  She clasped his hand, squeezing it a little. "Considering what I know of you already and your plans on gaining a wife, I do not think you need to look as worried as you do," she said, her eyes bright.

  Never in his life did Duke hate himself as much as he did right at this moment. Trying to find a rich bride was nothing compared to what he kept from her still. "Isla," he began, steeling himself to be strong. "Many years ago, when I was just a boy and did not notice such things, my father sent my mother away. It was all very hush-hush from what I can gather, and no one spoke of it to me even when I came of age. My father passed away two years past, and on his deathbed, he revealed something to me that I think you ought to know."

  "Me?" she said, pointing to herself. "Why do I need to know such things? Is that not a private matter between you and your papa?" she asked him. She was so innocent, not able to imagine the horror he was about to bestow on her.

  "My father sent my mother away to Spain and had her institutionalized for mental deficiencies, I believe. He thought she was not of sound mind and did not want her near his son and heir where he may be put in danger."

  Isla's eyes widened, and she paled to a ghostly shade of gray. "Madness runs in your family? Is that what you're trying to say?" she asked, her voice trembling at the words.

  "I do not believe so. I think he sent her away to be cruel. It was not a happy marriage, and he believed her to be unfaithful. That is what I was able to gather from some staff who worked for my father at the time. But I cannot prove it, not until I have someone go to Spain and see for themselves. I would like to bring her back to England. To where she belongs."

  "To live here with you in England. With us, if we marry?" she stated, looking at him as if he had sprouted two heads. "Why did you not tell me this before? I think knowing lunacy runs in your family should have been something I was told of before our betrothal was announced."

  Duke sat back, disappointment lodging in his gut. "We were caught alone. There was little choice in announcing our betrothal. As for my mother's mental wellbeing, you know I could not tell you such a thing, not until we were either engaged or married. If it became known about London that my mother has been locked up in Bedlam these past twenty years, no heiress looking for a title would have taken a second look in my direction. I cannot afford to free her without the funds from my future bride, as much as that pains me to admit."

  Isla stood, pacing several steps from him. "And what will happen to our children should your mother be returned to you and she is suffering from some kind of break in the mind? We will be shunned, and our children will never be looked upon as a good match, that is what. How could you have used me in such a way to get what you wanted?"

  "I had to, Isla," he said, coming up to her. "Because to tell such a thing to any of the ladies I courted, I would have had the same reaction you are having now. But I care for you," he said, clasping her upper arms. "I did not want you to go into this marriage without knowing this of me. Of my heritage. I want you to choose me because I am who you want, no matter the noise that brought us together. Just as I want to marry you for who you are and how you make me feel."

  She shook her head, wrenching from his hold. "The stigma of such an illness, whether true or not, will cling, and we shall all suffer for it. This does not just affect you, but my sisters too. They may be looked down upon from mere association." She set her hands on her hips, clearly debating what she had found out. A shock, Duke knew, but one he had to tell her. He could not keep this from her too. Had he told her this after their marriage, she would never have trusted him ever again.

  "Do you ever suffer within your own thoughts? Do you believe this to be true of your mother? Do you think you too will have some sort of break of the mind in the future?"

  "No," he snapped, hating where her deliberations were headed. "I have never been melancholy or had bouts of manic behavior, and I do not believe my mother did either."

  "And what makes you so sure?" she asked, turning to face him. "You were but a child."

  "My father apologized about my mother before he took his last breath. Why would he do that unless he felt guilt over the matter? Mayhap even guilt that he had placed her there when she did not deserve to be so."

  "Your father's words may have meant something else entirely, and you are hoping for an outcome that is never going to come true." She paused, chewing her bottom lip. "What have you done to seek answers? Surely you have sent someone to Spain now that your future financials have been secured by me."

  He cringed, hating that he had and that she was right. That he had more options now that he was about to marry a rich heiress. "I am waiting on news from a runner I hired to travel there and find the answers I seek. I sent him before I left for the Billington Estate." She glanced up at him, and he understood the question in her eyes. "I was certain, you see, that I would marry an heiress and soon. I had little choice in the matter, a shameful act, but one I cannot apologize any further for than I have already."

  "And if news from Spain comes back and it is not to your liking, what will you do then? What will we do?" she asked him. "Am I to marry you still with this dark cloud hanging over our future?"

  "It is not true, Isla. I'm certain of it." He took a calming breath, searching for the correct words. "Is such illness so unpalatable to you that you could not marry me even knowing this of my mother?"

  "Well, even if it were, I have little choice in the matter since you decided to follow me into the lady's retiring room, taking that choice from me," she bit back at him, her voice hard.

  "I was not the only one who was eager for more kisses," he threw at her, hating that they were arguing over this at all. Not to mention he hated that he was wrong in many ways. It was him who had followed her. He had taken her choices away from her. And now again, he was forcing his mother's possible lunacy on her too. Expecting her to be accepting of such news. He strode over to the circular fountain, staring at the cupid spilling water from his mouth. "Will you still marry me knowing this of my family?" he asked her, praying that she would and not because he needed her money but because he could no longer see a future without her in it.

  She was a calming influence on him, made him feel things he had never felt before in his life, and he could not see himself with anyone else. Not ever.

  "You know that I cannot break a contract when it was fashioned out of scandal. I would not do such a thing to my family twice. I was lucky that we did not suffer more than a few snark remarks from the ton. We could have been given the cut direct."

  Relief poured through him, and he schooled his features when he noticed her watching him. "I'm sorry, Isla."

  She shook her head, disappointment shadowing her blue eyes. "Yes, you keep saying that to me, Lord Leigh. So much so that it has become repetitive," she said, leaving him in the conservatory with only his shame for company.

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  "Oh my dear, this is terrible news!" her mother all but screeched as she strode into the breakfast room the following morning, The Times in hand, which she was flapping about like a loose bird with its feet trapped.

  "What is it, my love?" her father asked, placing his coffee cup down before picking up his fork.

  "The news in the paper. It's about Lord Leigh. He's ruined. This paper states that he has no money, nothing to his name."

  "I already know this of the man. What else is there to know?" her father said, throwing a cursory glance at Isla.

  She pursed h
er lips, not willing to divulge anything about Lord Leigh to her parents or anyone else. His family was her burden, and she would not allow anyone else to suffer under such weight. The word Bedlam banged about in her mind, and she could not help but be troubled about it. What it would mean for them in the years to come. The severity his mother suffered with, if indeed she were afflicted. And would that disease manifest in Lord Leigh at some time in his life, would their children suffer the same fate? Oh, the concerns were endless.

  "It is stated in the article that his mother, who everyone presumed had run off from Viscount Leigh when the young heir was just a child, never ran off at all. An unnamed source said last evening they overheard Lord Leigh himself state that his mother could have possibly been sent away to Spain due to a sickness of mind and has possibly been incarcerated in a hospital for lunacy."

  Her father's cutlery clattered onto the table, and Isla swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Someone must have been in the conservatory with them and had heard everything. This means they knew their marriage was also not one of affection and love but because they were indeed caught together alone at the Collins ball.

  She would be shamed and ignored in society. Even if she did marry Lord Leigh and save his financial woes, there would be little left for them in London. Especially now that his family's dark secret was also revealed to the world.

  A knock sounded on the dining room door, and their butler entered. "Viscount Leigh is here to see you, Miss Woodville."

  "Send him in here," her father said, pushing away his meal and dabbing his mouth with the napkin.

  Her mother sent her a worried glance before Lord Leigh strode into the room, the dark circles beneath his eyes telling her he had not slept since returning home from the ball last evening. Not after reading the article.