Page 56 of A Bride for the Heartless Duke
Family truly was the people you chose.
Nicholas found he was enjoying the fair more than he’d anticipated when he’d first made the promise to his daughter a week ago.
The tamed bear was unexpectedly friendly, waving at Sophia, and he had managed to steer both Isadora and Sophia away from the cockfighting, which was taking place in a small tavern close by. In another tavern, a bout of prizefighting was also taking place, but Nicholas had already decided to give it a miss. After all, he was here in his guise as a duke, not as Will.
Strange how both personas felt like characters to him; mantles he could assume when the moment was right, not the person he actually was.
Hewas Nicholas, a man, not a duke.
When Isadora smiled at him, he felt alarmingly as though she saw the man, and that was perhaps the scariest thing of all.
They needed to speak about last night and everything that had transpired, but every time he summoned his courage to address the matter, she smiled, looking so blissfully happy that he didn’t want to tarnish her happiness.
Sophia dragged them to a stall where the proprietor called all and sundry to knock over a series of tin men with small balls; if they succeeded, they would win a prize.
“I want…thatone,” Sophia said, pointing to a doll dressed in rags. Nicholas could not be certain it had not once been a shoe. Still, if she wanted it, he would do his best. After paying a couple of pennies for the honor of taking part, he stood where the man gestured and readied his shots. He had three. If he knocked allthree tin men where they appeared very precariously balanced, Sophia would win her doll.
So he took aim, exhaled, and perhaps because he knew Isadora was watching, hurled his first stone with a touch too much enthusiasm.
The tin man flew off its stand.
Sophia laughed excitedly, clapping her hands together. He’d seen her like this so infrequently, as though she were a child once again after living for him as an adult for so many years.
Unexpected joy flooded him as he took aim again. Another tin man fell down.
Then the third.
The proprietor was all greasy smiles and unctuous praise, and Sophia held her chosen doll aloft, triumphant.
“Thank you,” she giggled, beckoning his face down so she could peck his cheek. “Izzie, which doyouwant?”
Isadora blinked, looking as startled as he felt. “Pardon me?”
“Which doll? So Papa can win you one, as well!”
Isadora raised her brows at Nicholas. “Are you going to win me a doll?”
He cast his gaze around the fair. Sophia had been right in many ways: there were many members of thetonassembled in the sunshine, wandering about the different stalls, playing games, and fingering trinkets to buy. Nicholas could have purchased the entire fair for Isadora had he wanted, and it would not have been an inordinate strain on his finances. But there was something especially charming about the idea of winning a prize for his wife with his effort.
Not a doll, however. Unlike Sophia, she was not a child.
He saw a collection of small, bound books at a local stall and led the way. For this, he had to pay considerably more, and to win, he had to toss a small wooden hoop over a series of small stakes hammered into the ground. A few throws in, he realized the activity was more difficult than he had assumed, and when he failed, he immediately bought another round.
Eventually, he had enough successful hoops to win one of the books. It was imperfectly bound with string, and inside was a collection of dubious poetry from an unknown source. All the same, Isadora thanked him with a curtsy and a smile.
“Now you must kiss him,” Sophia said with perfect sincerity. “Just the same way I do.”
Isadora’s cheeks turned ever-so-slightly pink as she glanced at him. Her raised eyebrows seemed to convey that whether or notthey kissed was down to him; he could choose either, and she would go along with it.
Couples did not habitually show each other such intimate acts of affection in public, but they were at a fair, surrounded by people from all different walks of life, and he had a sudden, overwhelming desire to kiss her.
Perhaps it was a primal urge—to show the world how much she was his.
He held out a hand. “Come and receive your prize, then, wife.”
“Certainly, husband.” Her eyes glittered with amusement as she approached. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her lips instead as he handed her the book. When he leaned back, she blinked up at him, looking a little dazed, the smile still on her lips.
The lips he had claimed.
