Fenella Miller: The Duke's Reform

“I am a noted whipster, my lady. Unfortunately, as you can see, I will be unable to accommodate your maid. However, it’s perfectly permissible to drive in an open carriage in broad daylight without risking your reputation.”

Mary was rigid with disapproval. Isobel was tempted to refuse to accompany him, but the resulting fracas would cause distress to her relatives and she would not willingly do that. He was perfectly correct, only in a closed carriage did she need to be chaperoned.

Smiling apologetically at her abigail she continued down the marble steps where the alarming vehicle was waiting. A diminutive tiger was all but swinging from the head of the lead horse as it stamped and pawed the ground in its eagerness to be away.

Without a by your leave his strong hands gripped her waist and she was all but tossed aboard. The phaeton rocked alarmingly and she clutched the side and it did so again as he joined her.

His tiger released his grip and shot to the rear of the vehicle to scramble, not a moment too soon, on to the step at the rear. With a flick of his whip the duke released the team and they moved smoothly away from the path and on to the main thoroughfare. There was no conversation between them, she kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead fearing that at any minute the spirited team would spook and deposit her on the road.

Her worries receded as they progressed safely through the traffic. He was in control of his horses, she was in no danger with him beside her. She began to relax and to look about her with interest. This was the first time she’d travelled in such a modern vehicle. Its prodigious height gave one such an advantage over other road users. She saw the park gates ahead several minutes before they arrived there.

There were many like-minded carriages entering the park. Two o’clock was obviously the time to be seen bowling around the paths. They had not been inside for many minutes before she became aware that every head turned in their direction as they trotted past.

“Lady Isobel, delightful as your bonnet is, can I ask you not to wear it on our next excursion?”

She shifted sideways in order to reply. “I know, it has more the appearance of a coal scuttle than a hat. I cannot imagine what possessed me to buy it.”

His chuckles sent shivers up her spine. He was all but irresistible when he smiled in that particular way. “Excellent, my lady, we are already on agreement on one matter.”

“I have never ridden in one of these before, it’s an exciting experience. However, being so high from the ground and exposed to the elements is not something I would care to do unless the weather is clement.”

“Shall we ride together tomorrow morning, Lady Isobel? I shall collect you at …” He hesitated as if not sure what would be a suitable time to suggest.

“I normally go out at seven o’clock, your grace.” This was pure fabrication, she rarely left the house before half past eight. She doubted if he was aware that such an hour existed.

“Seven o’clock?” He smiled at her and her insides somersaulted. “I had no notion you were such a dedicated rider, Lady Isobel. I believe you must have been out for three hours this morning.”

Hoist by her own petard! Suddenly she felt comfortable in his company, able to speak naturally to him. Laughing at his perspicacity she nodded. “I am discovered, I thought to frighten you by insisting you joined me at dawn. I leave at half past eight and should be honoured to have you accompany me tomorrow.”

She returned from her drive fizzing with excitement. Unbelievable as it might seem, he appeared to find her as appealing as she found him. Had she already met the man she would one day marry?

The next two weeks Isobel hardly had time to gather her thoughts. Lord Bentley was constantly at her side and she was whisked to the opera, to the theatre and escorted to all the most prestigious social events. It could only be a matter of time before he made her a formal offer. He was to dine with them tonight and had asked for a private audience with Uncle Benjamin who stood in loco parentis .

She was sitting in front of the fire in her sitting room drying her hair when Aunt Laura came in. “My dear, I must speak to you. As your dear mama is not here it falls on me to do what she would do.”

“Aunt Laura, there’s no need to explain what is required of me when I become a bride, I am well aware what my duties will be.”

“That’s a profound relief, my love, I can now move onto the next matter. Rochester intends to speak to your uncle this evening. If you have any doubts about marrying him then you must say so now.”

“I had thought there would be longer to make up my mind. I have known him only three weeks. I know I should not hesitate; I shall be a duchess, have everything I could possibly wish for, but I keep remembering his anger. I could not marry him, even though I am almost in love with him, if I believed I should spend my time in fear of what might happen if I upset him.”

Her aunt settled herself comfortably on the chaise longue before replying. “There are things about his past that it is only right I should tell you. He was married before— this was, like yours, a marriage of convenience, but from all accounts he came love his wife and they were content together.”

“I had no notion this was to be his second marriage. What happened to his wife?”

“Rochester was in London on business, his wife and two small daughters at home in Newcomb when they were struck down with the sweating fever. All three had died before he could be sent for.”

“How dreadful!Poor man, to lose all three like that, and so suddenly too. Small wonder I detect a darkness in him. This explains a lot to me.” Isobel scrambled up and pushed her hair to one side. “I shall make him happy, bear him children and help him forget about the sadness all those years ago.”

“In which case, my love, I shall tell your uncle to accept the offer. We are both delighted— when you came to us I knew you would take, but had no idea it would be Rochester who offered first.”

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, Aunt Laura?”

Her aunt smiled and patted the chintz covered seat beside her. “Sit down, Isobel, there were one or two things I don’t expect your mama told you. Your husband will be vigorous in his attentions until you are increasing. From that point you will be left in blessed peace until several weeks after the baby is born. With luck you will become pregnant the first month— it’s what all new wives pray for I am sure.”

This was indeed a strange conversation to be having. Could it be true that what took place between a man and wife in the privacy of the bedroom was so unpleasant it was preferable to be permanently with child?

“I hope I am able to provide the duke with an heir, after all it’s why he’s marrying me. I am not so naive, Aunt Laura, to imagine he feels the same way I do. But underneath his reserve I believe there’s a loving man waiting to be discovered.”

That night Mary laid out her newest acquisition. The gown was not the usual white of a debutante, but of palest green, silk chiffon, the over skirt in sparkling, silver sarcenet. She was like a princess from a fairytale; although the neckline was a trifle daring for someone of her age her emerald necklace filled the expanse of creamy skin and she felt less exposed. This stunning item had once been her mother’s and was handed to the oldest daughter on her come out.

“Mary, do you think I am doing the right thing?”

Her abigail shook out an invisible crease in the gown before answering. “It isn’t for me to say, Lady Isobel. If you’re happy then I’m content also.”