Read Online The Duke's Reform by Fenella J Miller - Free Book Online Page B

ladies had been directed to their
boudoirs and the gentlemen to the billiard room she was quite exhausted. She
was also bitterly disappointed there was not one of the half a dozen wives she
wished to spend time with. They were all as brittle and shallow as their
husbands, and considerably older than herself.
          Unfortunately she
must act as a charming hostess for the duration of their visit. How long that
would be he had not deigned to tell her. At least a married gentleman
would not attempt to molest her; she had not forgotten the last time and
dreaded such an occurrence happening again. She'd had no opportunity to discuss
the matter with Alexander, but it would certainly be she who was blamed if
anything similar took place.
          Everything went
smoothly for the first few days. Tomorrow the men were to shoot and the ladies
to join them for an alfresco luncheon. She was almost looking forward to the
event. To be outside, even in uncongenial company, would be a pleasure. Nothing
remotely enjoyable had taken place at Newcomb these past six months.
Unfortunately the heavens opened and the guests were forced to remain indoors.
This would mean by dinner time all the gentlemen would be in their cups and the
ladies little better.
          She was
returning, after a brief conversation with Foster about the next morning's
arrangements, to rejoin the guests. The majority of the men had retreated to
the billiard room to drink brandy and smoke foul-smelling cigars. The ladies,
and the remaining gentlemen, were in the process of having card tables set out
in the grand drawing room.
     Isobel was hesitating in the
doorway, hidden by a marble column, when a vile creature lurched up to her.
    'I've been searching for you, my
lady. I've noticed that your husband ignores you. I should be happy to take his
place— I'm sure you understand my meaning.'
     Making such a licentious
remark was bad enough but his hand snaked out to clutch her breast. No one took
liberties with her person. No one touched her breasts apart from Alexander.
Without a second thought she snatched up a large silver candlestick and struck him
on the head.
          He staggered
back, clutching his forehead. Blood poured unchecked down his face. From the
screams and cries of distress of the female witnesses one would have thought she had murdered him. Head wounds bled freely, she was
certain he was not seriously hurt. Then she was surrounded by a ring of
accusatory faces. This was too much and she fled to her bed chamber in
distress.
    Alexander was going to be so angry.
She huddled under the coverlet dreading the moment when his footsteps approached
her bedchamber. She clenched her fists, her heart pounding, going over the
horrible incident which had occurred in full view of many of his cronies.
Should she have brazened it out? Remained in the room and not fled to her
apartment in disarray? Maybe she was overreacting— perhaps when he heard of her
appalling behaviour he would laugh and continue his
game of billiards. She might as well be invisible to him nowadays. Was it
possible he might chose to ignore her this time as
well?
    Her failure to conceive was a bitter
disappointment to them both. He had selected her for her breeding qualities and
her impeccable pedigree in exactly the same way he would chose a mare to put to
his stallion. She no longer had any illusions about her marriage. Her family had
been saved
    from financial ruin by her settlement, The Duke of
Rochester had bought himself a duchess. Her immature fantasies that one day he
would love her had long since been trampled under his indifference.
    How wrong, how naïve, she had been to believe
she was anything more than an object, and one that did not live up to
expectations at that. Thank God he spent his time in Town, leaving her to our
own devices in the country.
    She should be satisfied with her lot.
After all, wasn't she a duchess, dressed in the first stare of fashion, given
as much