The Fox Duke’s Wager (Ton’s Unlikely Brides #3)

Chapter 1

One

“Wilt thou take Isobel Leyton to be thy wedded wife?”

No, thou will not.

Isobel struggled to keep the serene smile on her face, trying to be the picture of elegance and grace as she prepared to spend her life with an intolerable cad who would only bring her certain misery in marriage.

However, instead of the answer that should follow, the one that would seal her fate, Lord Sinclair simply remained silent. His cold and beady stare found hers, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Wilt thou take Isobel Leyton to be thy wedded wife?” The priest looked between the two of them, eyebrows knitted together.

Isobel swallowed hard. There was a dryness in her throat. There had been since she accepted the offer of marriage, but it was worse on the morning of her wedding. So was the twisting and knotting in her stomach.

Would Joan think poorly of me if I turned and ran out of the church? If I committed my life to being a spinster?

She glanced over at her sister sitting in the front pew, her hands clasped in her lap. Joan met Isobel’s gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching into what could be considered an encouraging smile.

It looks more like confirmation that I’m marching toward my death.

Lord Sinclair let out a wavering breath. “I cannot marry this woman.”

Gasps echoed around the church, but all Isobel felt was relief. She had been marrying for all the right reasons—protecting Joan—but now that it was being called off, it felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

Lord Sinclair cleared his throat, turning to look at the few people who had gathered to witness their marriage, locking gazes with Father. “I am sorry, Lord Leyton, but I cannot marry Isobel when my heart belongs to another.”

Isobel bit the inside of her cheek. She would’ve preferred the continued silence.

Instead, as she snuck a peek at Father, Viscount Leyton, she knew nothing good would come. Father’s face was a shade of crimson Isobel had never seen before. He shot to his feet, taking quick steps between his pew and them.

“Sinclair, I do not care who your heart belongs to. You said you would marry Isobel, and now you must.” Father’s voice shook with anger.

Isobel shook her head, hands curling into fists at her side, her heart racing. “Father, if Lord Sinclair doesn’t wish to marry me, then I will not marry him. I do not want someone who doesn’t want me.”

“I don’t care,” Father snapped, spinning to glare at her. He raised a meaty finger, pointing it in her face before seeming to remember himself. His hand dropped to his side. He stepped closer to hiss in her face. “None of this would be happening if you knew how to keep a man.”

Isobel’s cheeks burned hot as the people around them started whispering. Father’s words had echoed through the church, even though he was trying to be quiet.

She took a deep breath, stuffing down the tears as Father shook his head, taking her by the arm and pulling her into a room to the right of the altar.

As he hauled her into the room, he whipped around to face her. “You’re going to go out there and you will marry Lord Sinclair. You will beg him to marry you if you must.”

“I won’t.” Isobel held her head high, but there was a tremor of terror in her voice. “He doesn’t want me, and I won’t spend my life with a man who yearns for another.”

“This man was our last chance.” Father scrubbed a hand down his face. “We have two weeks before we are completely ruined. I hope you are proud of the damage you’ve caused your family.”

He brushed past her, and with him he took the suffocating feeling out of the room. Isobel couldn’t hear the words Father said to the people in the church; all she knew was that she had to get out of there. She needed to run away. She couldn’t look Joan in the eye and know that she had failed her.

So that was what she did.

Isobel dashed out of the room, down the aisle, and to the double doors. She pushed them open, the busy sounds of the ton met her. She let out a wavering breath, finally starting to feel like she could breathe again.

People called her name. It echoed behind her like a bad reminder of the life she would be going back to if she turned around now.

I could run to a boat and travel across the sea.

As appealing as that thought was, she couldn’t leave Joan. Not like that. The rumors spreading around the ton would never die if Isobel got on a boat and left.

But perhaps if I joined a monastery, they would. I could become a nun and never have to deal with another man. Father would be out of my life, but Joan could still visit.

That idea had merit, but she couldn’t think beyond the fleeting thought as she dashed down the street and turned a corner, barely avoiding a man pushing a cart of potatoes.

“Watch where you’re going!” the man shouted.

“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder before surging out of the alley and onto another street.

Isobel kept running until breathing got hard to do. When she finally stopped, the dam holding back her tears finally broke, hot tracks making their way down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands as the first strangled sob escaped.

And then there was a little bark.

Sniffling, she lifted her head and wiped her tears, gathering her composure. Years of learning to control her emotions in front of Father had prepared her to shut down at a moment’s notice. As she exhaled, something brushed lightly against her skirts. She looked down.

At her feet was a puppy, its tail wagging, pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. She cooed to the creature, her heart swelling.

Isobel stopped and picked up the little chocolate-colored dog, cradling it close and rubbing its head between its floppy ears. “Does nobody want you either?”

The puppy leaned into her, the soft fuzz of its head resting against her neck. She smiled and cradled the dog close. Perhaps they could get through the storm that was her life together and then she would never have to be alone again.

Isobel hummed to the puppy, rocking back and forth slightly, trying to soothe herself and the small creature.

She suspected it had been a hard day for both.

Even with a dog to commiserate the burning down of her life, her new companion brought only a small amount of comfort.

Lord knew what would be waiting for her when she returned home.

Father certainly wasn’t going to forget this, and with two weeks left until ruination, he would try to marry her off to whomever might have enough money to help the family.

He would lie about the dowry until the moment the couple stood at the altar, and then whatever man he had made a victim found out, it would be too late.

Or I could be jilted again. I could be known as the woman who walks down the aisle one way, and sprints down it the other.

A carriage rolled to a stop close to them, a tall man getting out and looking around.

“There you are, Darling.” The man’s eyes, a blue that reminded her of the sky on a summer day, landed on Isobel. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Is he here to take me away from this place? Is this the miracle I’ve been praying for my entire life?

Though it would be magical to have a stranger whisk her away in his carriage and take her to a life better than the one she was living, the man in front of her was still a man. She had never known them to be helpful, and certainly not when she needed it most.

“Excuse me,” Isobel said, taking a step back as the man sauntered toward her. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

The corner of the man’s mouth tipped up, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “I hope this feral creature hasn’t disturbed you.”

Isobel recoiled. How could he speak that way about a puppy? It was nothing more than an innocent little dog. The creature had done no wrong in the world, and it was hardly feral as it licked her jaw.

“What is wrong with you?” Isobel took another step back, wanting distance between herself and the man.

His gaze locked on hers, the slight smile falling. “What kind of question is that to ask a complete stranger? Especially when you look as if you were a wild cat being chased through the woods. Beautiful, but ferocious all the same.”

“You best hold your tongue!” Isobel shook her head, holding the puppy close. “Do you speak to all ladies this way?”

“Wouldn’t you enjoy the truth?” His tone took a teasing note. “I, for one, happen to be quite the enjoyer of wild cats. I find them fascinating, even when they are windswept and flushed.”

Isobel put a hand up to her hair, feeling the strands coming loose from the braided chignon containing her curls. Some strands had been styled loosely around her face, but the tresses she felt at the nape of her neck had escaped the coiffure her maid spent too much time styling that morning.

“You’re a rude man.”

He snorted. “And you’re not exactly a paragon of manners yourself, my lady.”

“A moment ago, I was your ‘darling.’ How very fickle you are,” she scoffed, tipping her chin at him, silently daring him to charm his way out of it.

Laughing, he shook his head. “You thought you were the darling? No. The dog’s name is Darling, though if you would like to be my darling as well, I would be pleased to call you such.”

If the puppy is Darling… then that makes me…

“So, I’m the feral creature?” Isobel’s jaw dropped. “I am the feral creature when you’re the one who tells a random woman she looks like a wild cat?”

“Yes.”

Isobel glowered at him. How dare he refer to her as a feral creature. It might not be her best day, but she was the daughter of a viscount. She was raised with manners and class, but the man in front of her was likely raised by wolves.

The man stared right back at her, but the look in his eyes was of amusement, making her heart slam into her ribs, and send a slow tingle crawling across her skin.

With his broad shoulders and the way he towered over her, even though she was tall for a woman, there was no denying he was an attractive man.

It’s too bad his personality ruins his good looks.

Isobel rolled her shoulders back, standing taller. “I might look a mess, but at least I’m capable of remembering my manners. I’ll take my leave now, and I hope you have the day you deserve.”

“Give me Darling, then you may take your leave, and do as you wish—which I suspect is likely running through the woods and hunting your prey, wild cat.” The man motioned to the carriage. “I have places to be and you’re delaying them by holding my poor puppy hostage.”

She ignored the pet name, not wanting to give him another reason to try and flirt with her. The last thing he needed was encouragement.

“I’m delaying you?” She laughed, the last drop of sanity and patience she had for the day disappearing. Her head spun. Her heart thumped so hard it hurt.

Her dress itched. Her father’s furious face drifted to the front of her memory.

She also remembered Sinclair’s smug confession.

Her thoughts spiraled. The dowry lie. The creditor.

Everything coiled inside her like a snake ready to strike.

She had been trying to hold it all together, trying to act civilized, trying not to scream—but no. No. Not anymore.

“Do you know the kind of day I’ve had?”

“I do not, and I don’t care. Simply give me the dog, you little feral creature, and you can continue with the dramatics after I’ve gone.” He started walking toward her, but she took several more steps backward, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

“The dramatics?” Her voice was higher now, frenzied.

“The dramatics? I’ve been left at the altar and Father lied about my dowry to anyone who would listen.

And that Scottish lord I was meant to marry?

Well, he was the last thing standing between my family and ruin!

In two weeks, the creditor will come and take everything we own! I—oh, I haven’t even had breakfast!”

Silence hit. The words were out of her mouth. Raw, frantic, and completely uncontrolled. Her pulse roared in her ears.

The stranger froze for the barest moment, then his lips curved slowly. “Well,” he said, voice low, teasing, “that rant was… impressively thorough.”

Oh no. Oh no. I’ve just embarrassed myself in front of a complete stranger. My last shred of dignity? Gone.