Chapter 6
Six
“Foolish man!” Isobel snagged a cushion off the couch in Father’s study the moment the door was closed behind her and the Duke of Foxdrey. She whipped it at his head with all the force she could muster, disappointed when he batted it out of the air.
“Feral, just the way I like you,” he said, his tone smooth and teasing as he went over to the window, looking out over the garden.
Isobel reached for another pillow but he crossed the room before she could throw it at him, ripping it out of her hands and tossing it to the side.
She glowered up at him, not caring about the fact that he was so close they were nearly touching.
Nothing about the way his body heat radiated toward her made her feel like she was coming to life.
“You are nothing but a rake and this proves it! What did you do? Find out who Father was—how willing he is to barter me off—and then come here and think you were going to make a filthy deal?”
She stormed away from him, looking for something else to throw, hoping that getting some of her anger out would make her feel even a little bit better.
“And another thing.” She turned to face him, storming back over and jabbing her finger into his chest. “I will not be chatting with a man who runs a gambling house!”
“Chatting? Sounds like your father wanted to sell you to me for other purposes,” the Duke said with that charming smile of his as if it would take the bite out of the words.
“That’s not going to happen.” She shook her head, hands balling into fists, nails biting into skin. “If you think I would let you touch me, then you must have hit your head hard on the way over here!”
“Do you think another man would be willing to tolerate this anger you have?” The Duke leaned back against a cabinet, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He looked entirely unbothered by the situation at hand and that only ate at her more.
“You are an insufferable man and the source of my anger! Another man wouldn’t have to endure it because they wouldn’t be as entirely intolerable as you. Why, I bet you’ve been planning this from the moment we met!”
“You mean the moment when you tried to steal my dog?” The Duke chuckled as she snagged the pillow from the floor and threw it at him again. “This is a tumultuous start to our marriage, darling.”
“Call me darling one more time…” She sighed, running out of anger and sinking down into the plush chair behind the desk, looking at the papers scattered across the top.
She had snuck into the study on more than one occasion to look through the figures and see how horribly her father had hurt them but the pages that were tossed aside so carelessly all looked new to her now.
“Why do you insist on tormenting me?” She shoved one of her loose curls behind her ear.
“You wanted to leave the ton, become a nun, and live close to your Lord and Savior, right?” He pushed off the cabinet and drew closer to her, eyeing her feet and taking a large step back. “What if that savior is me?”
Isobel snorted, shaking her head. And then the laughter took over.
The thought of the Duke of Foxdrey being a savior to anyone was the best joke she had heard in a long time.
He worked for the devil; she was sure of it.
He was a rake and happily led people to their ruin.
There was no salvation to be found in his arms.
The Duke gave an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes. “Are you done yet?”
“I could be, but that idea is absurd.” Isobel wiped a tear that escaped her while laughing. “Thank you. I needed that. I needed something to make me feel better after my life started to go up in flames.”
“Started?” The Duke hovered just outside of the range of her foot, eyeing her like he was certain she would kick him hard enough to rob him of the opportunity to father children.
And with the mood she was in, though she wouldn’t hurt him, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t give a few test swings just to intimidate him. If there was one thing she was tired of, it was allowing men to control her life, dictating who she was and what she would do.
Men created nothing but prisons.
“Would you let me finish?” The Duke asked, perching himself on the furthest edge of the desk before clasping his hands in his lap.
“No.” Isobel smirked, for once feeling like she might have a little bit of an advantage in her verbal sparring with him. She was too angry to be flustered by him. But she was… more than flustered. “Fine. Finish.”
“I love it when you speak like that to me.” He shifted to the side, dodging a crumpled up piece of paper she threw at him. “You want freedom, and this is a chance to have as much of that as a woman can get in this world. Within reason. I need to look like a good member of Society—”
“Which is going to be difficult when you keep bedding any woman who looks at you the right way.”
The Duke shot her a dry look. “I simply bed the women who want to be bedded. It is they who come to me. Why should I deny them the right to feel something they can’t get from anyone else? There’s something lacking in their marriages and they have come to me to help.”
“To help…as if you are providing for those less fortunate than you.” Isobel scoffed. “I assure you, Your Grace, that I am far from being less fortunate.”
“From where I am viewing the situation, your outcomes are bleak. You either listen to my proposal, or your father sells you to a monster far worse than me.”
He’s right. I know he’s right and I don’t want him to be.
She hated it, but she held her tongue.
“Allow me to show you my hand: The most important thing in my life is my business.” The Duke cleared his throat. “And I have done a fine job of tarnishing my reputation, but if I have a wife and am loyal to her, then perhaps my clients will not think so poorly of me.”
“They think so poorly of you because you steal their wives and daughters!” She threw her hands up in the air, leaning back in the chair and looking at the ceiling.
This entire arrangement he was starting to hint at was preposterous. Nobody who knew him or his reputation would expect him to marry the daughter of a penniless viscount. With his fortune, a man like him would be seeking a woman closer to his social standing.
“I thought you were going to let me finish speaking before you started passing more judgments.” The Duke gave her an amused look.
She shrugged. “I’m not good at holding my tongue.”
“As I’m learning.” There was a ghost of a smile before his gaze locked on hers.
“Back to your lecture on how you don’t steal women.”
“I don’t. I merely accept them. Who am I to reject a woman’s choice made with her own free will?” Those eyes burned into her, making a fluttering feeling appear in her stomach.
Isobel wanted to argue with him, but it would be going against the possible freedom she believed in for herself.
She saw no reason why women shouldn’t be allowed to pick the paths they wanted in life.
If that included dalliances with the rake in front of her, then who was she to judge them for that?
The Duke of Foxdrey held a finger to his lips when she opened her mouth again.
“My club thrives on my reputation, and my clients prefer to gamble with their coin, not their women. My top priority is to satisfy them, and if that means I must come off the marriage market, then that is what I will do.”
“Oh, will you?” She crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “I see what the problem is now. You cannot trick any sensible woman into marrying you, so you’ve decided to take advantage of an unfortunate situation.”
“You hardly thought I was taking advantage of you when you allowed me to kiss you.”
The rake dares to smirk at me!
Isobel’s cheeks were on fire. “Must you torment me?”
“You mean you do not enjoy our little banter?” He smirked again and got up from the desk, pacing around the room.
Normally, Father paced around the room, sucking all the air from it, leaving no room for anyone else to breathe.
When the Duke paced around it, she felt the tension, but it was a different kind.
The kind that left her watching him and anticipating his next move, but in a way that felt playful.
Almost familiar, like taunting each other was a normal occurrence for them.
“I’m willing to play the part of the respectable family man.” He stood at the window, looking out over the garden, his back stiff. “I will play the part I need to play because the Mayfair Fox cannot fail. I built that empire with my own hands, and I’ll be damned before I let it slip.”
“And because the rest of the families in the ton hate you, you have come here.” Isobel sighed. “How long have you known who I was?”
“When I walked into the room today and saw you painting. Until then, you were only the feral darling who has disrupted two—now three—perfectly good days.”
“Your proposal is to disrupt the rest of my life.”
“Well, I need to win back the trust of the ton, and you need me to save you and your family. If you are to accept me, you will know freedom, and your family’s debt will be erased.”
It was a generous offer. One that she would be a fool to refuse. And yet, there was a refusal on the tip of her tongue. She was to go to the monastery and become a nun. She would write to her sister. No man would ever control her again.
But that was only if Father didn’t sell her to a brothel first, and she had the feeling that if she didn’t come out of the study engaged to the Duke of Foxdrey, Father would be riding for the nearest brothel within minutes.
Isobel stood, holding her head high as the Duke turned to face her. “If you think you can expect my obedience and gratitude, you are sorely mistaken.”
The corner of his mouth climbed high. “I would never make the mistake of expecting your obedience.” He crossed the room to her, his fingers beneath her chin, thumb brushing over it. “I expect nothing I haven’t earned.”
“And yet—you expect me to accept your proposal.” She licked her lips which had suddenly become dry. “Do you feel you have earned my favor enough to ask for my hand?”
His lips pressed to the side of her neck, making her breath hitch, heat coursing through her body. “Would you think differently?”
“I would,” she insisted, though it felt like a lie. And when she felt the tip of his tongue flick over her pulse, she felt like she was about to burst, a slight whimper leaving her lips.
What is he doing to me?
Though she didn’t know what to think of his movements, she wanted more.
He breathed excitement into her life, possibilities she didn’t know were there.
Now, when he was this close, when she could feel his touch and memorize the musky scent that clung to him, it was impossible to remember how to resist him.
He chucked, his breath ghosting against her ear as he leaned in close, whispering, “This is just a business proposal, but if you ever wish for it to be more than that, you only need to say the word.”
The word was on the tip of her tongue as he pulled back and stared at her, the heat in his gaze making it clear he was waiting for her permission.
She wanted to give him that consent. She needed to give him that approval just so she could feel something other than the hopelessness about her life that had taken residence in her chest.
Isobel leaned into him just a little, her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers. Then she pushed him away. “I won’t beg you.”
“Not yet you won’t,” he murmured smugly. “But once we’re married...”
Instead of surging forward for a kiss, he lifted a hand and brushed his thumb slowly along the curve of her ear. The touch was maddeningly gentle, and his fingers grazed her earlobe before trailing—slowly, torturously—down the line of her ear. A heartbeat later, he was at her clavicle.
And then, as if her mind came crashing back to her body, she went back a step, missing his touch immediately. “This is a mistake.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as want burned bright in his eyes. “That will be the first and last time you call what is between us a mistake. If you accept my proposal, you won’t have to refuse yourself the pleasure we both know you’re aching for right now.”
Isobel stared at him as his hand dropped from her face, a tremble still running through her body even after his touch was done.
“If you think I can give you an answer in this moment, then you think too highly of yourself.”
“Oh, I assure you, I think very highly of myself at all times.” That boyish smile took over, sending her heart rushing like horses at the races.
How could one person be so infuriating and charming all in the same breath?
“I cannot be expected to give you an answer right now,” she insisted, her voice nearly a plea.
There still had to be another way out of this, but even then, she knew the best option she had would be to marry him. To give him the stability he needed, and to ensure Father never hurt Joan. The threat of the Duke of Foxdrey revoking his kindness would be too great.
The Duke studied her for a moment, his gaze flickering over her face like he could see all the emotions passing through her mind. “Of course not. You have three days.”