Page 16 of My Duke, The Stranger
“And I like to think I have done that. His brother, too. I gave myself the same charge?—”
“His Grace has a brother?” Isolde interrupted before she could stop herself.
“Had,” Mr. Pemberton said darkly. “He had a brother, and where I failed him, I have not once failed His Grace.”
Isolde scolded herself for the interruption, just as she felt sick at the implication. While Mr. Pemberton was severe and cold, she had no doubt that this man would do anything he must to protect the duke.
“I have seen him grow from a boy into a man,” Mr. Pemberton continued. “I have seen him at his worst and at his best. I have seen sides of him that some might weep at, and others that would bring such joy that the sun’s shine might appear dim by comparison. He is…” His voice cracked slightly. “He is like a son to me, in some ways. If the world were different, I might call him my closest friend. What I am, however, and what there can be no doubt about, is that I am his protector.”
“I—”
“I failed in this charge yesterday,” he spoke over her. “Thankfully, you were there to see that no harm came to him. For that, I owe you my thanks.” He looked right at her.
“That… I was happy to do it,” she stammered.
“However, my thanks, my gratitude, can only be stretched so far. So, when His Grace told me that you and he were engaged…” Isolde winced as Mr. Pemberton’s words struck her. “You can imagine my shock. There is not a part of His Grace’s world that I do not know, and if he was engaged as he claims, I would be the first to be made aware. Why, I would consider it my right.”
She swallowed. “We all have secrets…”
“Do not play me for a fool, Miss Whitmore,” he said sternly. “Treat me with dignity, as I have treated you. I am not willing to call you a liar. I am not yet willing to announce you as a heretic. What I want to know, the reason we are having this conversation, is what you said to His Grace to make him believe that you and he are one.”
Isolde licked her lips as her mind raced.
Once again, she sensed that if she were to reveal the truth, now would be the right time. Only, it felt as if that time had come and gone. She was in this now, and to admit her lies would likely only make things worse.
How can I make it sound as if… as if this was the duke’s idea?
“As you know, His Grace has suffered a loss to his memory.”
“I am aware,” Mr. Pemberton said. “And it is only because I do not wish to make things worse that I have not told him the truth. His mind is fragile. I have no desire to upset him, nor do I plan on calling him a fool. So, again, I ask you, what did you tell him?”
“N—nothing,” she stammered. “Truly, I am as surprised as you are. When he woke last evening, he was confused, unsure of who he was. He found me tending him and… and…” She started to sweat, her body trembling. “He did not know who he was. He assumed that I was… that he and I…”
“You expect me to believe that he simply assumed the two of you were engaged?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” she said, seizing upon the moment. “I did not know what to say. He was so… so unsure. So confused and scared. He…” She licked her lips. “He seemed to assume that we were engaged, for why else would he have been in my room? And not wanting to upset him or make him feel… feel as if he was alone, I simply went along with it.”
He looked at her flatly. “You went along with it? To translate, you saw a chance to attach yourself to a duke and could not possibly pass up…”
“No!” she cried, even though what he said was true. “I was only trying to help. He was so weak and… and he did not seem to know who or where he was. I thought once he woke again, that he would forget what we’d spoken about.” Tears started to well in her eyes. “Please, I did not mean for this to happen. You must believe me.”
“And if I choose not to?”
Isolde felt the tears well in her eyes. She felt her chin wobble. She felt like a mouse backed into a corner with a large cat bearing down on her. Trapped… out of options… the lies growing so quickly that she could barely keep up.
However, as she looked at Mr. Pemberton, and met his cold eyes, she saw through him, and came to realize something. And so it was that she found a way out… or so she hoped.
“Then…” She steadied herself. “Then I suggest you speak to His Grace. Tell him, if you must, that he is wrong. But when you do, be sure to tell him how you too have been lying to him, just as I have.”
Mr. Pemberton’s eyes widened, but he was quick to fix the error. “That is not…” He cleared his throat. “I have not lied.”
“You have,” she said. “The moment he told you who I was, you went along with it. You have made him look like a fool, and I wonder how he might react to such a thing.”
Guilt swarmed through Isolde like a hive of locusts. This was not who she was! She was a good person. Her charge in life was to help those who could not help themselves. But desperate times… it was incredible what one was willing to do.
Mr. Pemberton studied her for some time. His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed together. She met his stare, her best efforts at appearing brave.
“So… he is the one who made the proposal?”
