The Duke's Hound Hated Every Woman He Courted — Until a Young Lady Walked Through the Gate

The Duke's Hound Hated Every Woman He Courted — Until a Young Lady Walked Through the Gate

Chapter 9

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"Every single time. And always a step behind the lady. Sovereign never growled at the women; he growled at the man at their shoulder, and they were simply the ones standing in the way." The Duke's laugh was short and terrible. "I was so ashamed of the noise that I never once looked where he was looking. Percival chose them all, and each one failed, and I let England laugh because I did not wish to explain myself."He stood. "A Duke without a wife has no heir, Isolde. And a cousin who has already robbed the house will inherit the rest.""Then we have very little proof," she warned. "A dead man's letter, a forged reply—he will call it grief and call me a fortune hunter.""We have one more witness," replied the Duke. He looked at the dog.The great hall of Ravenhurst Park was a cathedral of dark oak and tall windows, and by the time the Duke entered, the whole company had gathered beneath the chandeliers. Lady Vance's party sat in a stiff, offended row. The gentlemen stood in clusters. Lord Percival lounged by the fireplace with a glass in his hand, looking mildly curious—a man who has never in his life been seriously afraid.Isolde walked in at the Duke's side. She had washed her face and put up her hair, and she had kept the patched gray cloak on because she wanted no one in that room to mistake her for something she was not. Sovereign came between them, close against her skirts."My lords, ladies," the Duke began, "I owe you an explanation. I have not offered one in three years, and I confess, I have grown out of the habit." A murmur ran through the room. "This lady is Isolde Ravenhurst. She is the widow of my brother Edmund."The murmur became a sound like a wave breaking."Preposterous!" cried Lady Vance, rising. "Your Grace, this is a trick. The girl is a beggar.""The girl walked through my gate this afternoon and was the first person in three years to be welcomed by my dog," the Duke answered. He did not raise his voice; he had never needed to. "Lady Mary called her a beggar on my drive. I would ask her to reconsider."Lady Mary went scarlet and sat down.It was Percival who spoke next, smoothly, kindly, spreading one hand. "Julian, my dear fellow, you are overwrought. We all grieved for Edmund. But to produce a wife for him now, out of nothing, on the strength of a ring any pawnbroker could have sold her—""I have a letter in Edmund's hand," the Duke interrupted, "naming you as the man who has robbed this estate for two years."The room stopped breathing.Percival laughed. It was a good laugh, warm and rueful. "Forged, surely, or a grief-stricken fantasy. You will have to do better, cousin."

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The Duke's Hound Hated Every Woman He Courted — Until a Young Lady Walked Through the Gate

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