Page 73 of My Duke, The Stranger
I want to be… I know that I can be… but it is not nearly so simple.
What Isolde was willing to admit was that she wanted to try. And now that Cassian had accepted her, she was certain that if things continued as they were, the love she yearned for would come. It had to!
But this guest, and the reason that he had come to see her, did not bode well for such aspirations. While Cassian was finally willing to accept her, she worried that her true past and what she had done might cause such feelings to collapse in on themselves.
She had to be careful.
“Send him in,” she said to Mr. Pembroke. “And while I will not ask you to keep this from Cassian, I might ask that you…” She considered and looked pointedly at Mr. Pembroke. “That you might take your time in telling him.”
Mr. Pembroke frowned. “How much time, Your Grace?”
“Five minutes,” she said, hoping it would be enough. “By then, I am certain our guest will have his answer and will have hopefully left.”
“It will be done.” Mr. Pembroke bowed deeply and hurried from the room.
Isolde took the next few seconds to settle her nerves. She sat up straight. She presented a look of dignity and poise fitting her position. And she resolved that she would not be bullied or spoken down to, because things were not as they had been the last time.
And it was just as she centered herself that her guest arrived…
“Well, well, well. If I did not see it with my own two eyes, I might never have believed it. And yet, here you are. How very strange.”
Mr. Harwood was exactly as Isolde remembered him. The same round body. The same wobbling jowls. The same look as if he was sweating through his clothes, heavy breathing, red in the face. And the same disgusting smirk on his plump lips that made her stomach turn.
“Mr. Harwood,” Isolde said politely. “This is a most unexpected surprise.”
He scoffed. “You may drop the act,Your Grace.” He sneered at her title. “You might have thrown on a nice gown. You might have adopted a few fancy words and a way of speaking. But we both know who you are.” He scoffed again. “I do wonder, however, if your husband knows too.”
She did not rise to the bait. “My husband is well aware of who I am and who I was. If your reason for being here is to sew discontent or spread malicious lies, I would warn you against it.”
“But they are not lies, are they?” he said. “You have somehow wormed your way into a marriage with His Grace. How you have…” He clicked his tongue. “I knew you were desperate, but I had no idea just how much.”
“As I said, His Grace knows everything.”
“Does he, now?” Mr. Harwood chuckled with mirth. “I suppose we will find out.”
Isolde clenched her jaw as her stomach knotted. She had never liked Mr. Harwood, but she had not known him to be so petty. When he asked to marry her, she’d assumed he was doing so because he was desperate, or because he thought that she was. And when she turned him down, she had not considered once what it might do to him and his ego.
He wants something. Find out what… find out how to stop him.
“What do you want, Mr. Harwood?” she asked, her voice even. “You did not come here to make threats. Tell me, and I will see it done.”
“Will you now?” he chortled. “Oh yes, a duchess, so much power at her disposal. How you have grown since we last spoke. I hardly recognize you.”
“Is it money?” she asked. “My husband?—”
“I do not want money,” he sneered. “What I want is for you to be reminded of who you are.” He looked at her with such antipathy that she felt it on her skin like oil. “What I want is to remind you that a sheep in wolf’s clothing is still a sheep! This is not justice, nor is it revenge. It is what is right.”
“If that is the case, then I must ask that you leave.” Somehow, she kept her composure, even as her stomach sank through thefloor. “My husband is not home, so your threats will have to wait.”
“Is that right?” he asked coyly.
“It is.” She looked straight at him, daring him to doubt her. “And if you do not leave, I will have you thrown out. I might be a sheep in wolf’s clothing, but I can manage that.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You wandered into the den and thought your sharp words would be enough to cower me. But I have teeth, and if you do not leave, I will not hesitate to use them.”
It was subtle, but she saw Mr. Harwood hesitate.
He had come to her, expecting the same little girl whom he’d bullied so effortlessly all of his life. What he found in her stead was a woman who had grown into her role as duchess and would not hesitate to show him what that meant, if he forced her to do so.
However, it was just as she saw the doubt pass behind his eyes that Isolde heard footsteps in the distance. She clenched her jaw, she withheld the urge to groan, and she braced herself for Cassian’s arrival.
