Why Dukes Say I Do by Manda Collins

He was dressed for riding, which Isabella assumed meant that he’d spent the morning on horseback. She wondered briefly if he had a suitable mount for her. She did not often get the chance to ride, but being in the country would allow her to get in a good gallop.
    Ralph had not liked for her to ride as a general rule. He considered it unladylike for a woman to ride as Isabella did—with her whole being. And so he’d forbidden it. Since his death, she hadn’t purchased a mount to replace her beloved Sookey, whom Ralph had sold without Isabella’s knowledge. While she was in the country, though, perhaps she could become accustomed to the saddle again. She may as well make the most of the visit, since Ormonde was proving to be resistant to her wiles.
    There was no question of failure in her quest to bring him back to London, of course. She refused to allow her sister’s match with Coniston to be jeopardized. Perdita had already been through hell with Gervase. She deserved some happiness and Isabella was going to ensure that she got it.
    “There are actually two matters I wish to discuss,” the duke said, interrupting Isabella’s thoughts. His russet hair glinted in the morning sun, giving him the appearance of an angel in a halo. Isabella didn’t find the illusion at all amusing.
    “First of all,” Ormonde said, “it looks as if it will take upwards of a week to repair the duchess’s carriage. The local blacksmith is away in York visiting his ailing mother and will not be back before a sennight at least.”
    Before she could protest he continued, his eyes serious, “Both of our coachmen have looked at the damage and have concluded that the damage was deliberate.”
    Isabella felt her chest constrict.
    “Deliberate?” she asked, feeling like an echo. “You mean someone damaged it on purpose?”
    Ormonde nodded. Isabella did not like the gravity in his expression. It smacked too much of concern, which she most assuredly did not want.
    “Can you think of a reason someone might wish to harm you?”
    I know what you did last season.
    The words of the note echoed in Isabella’s consciousness. But surely the carriage breaking had nothing to do with the silly message. If she were a betting woman she’d lay odds that the dowager herself had sabotaged the carriage in order to give Isabella a better chance at persuading the duke to come back to London with her.
    With a nod she said as much to the duke. “So you see, Your Grace, it was likely just your grandmother’s ploy to see to it that I am here long enough to convince you to return to London with me.”
    Ormonde frowned. “Lady Wharton, I think you misunderstand me. The damage to the carriage wasn’t a bit of tampering to make the vehicle unable to continue on. This was the sort of damage that if it had occurred on any other stretch of road could have killed you or one of the servants riding with you.”
    Her hard-won poise fading, Isabella’s hand rose to her throat.
    His gaze concerned, the duke stepped forward and touched her lightly on the arm. “I do not mean to frighten you,” he said, “but it is apparent to me that whoever did this wanted to do you or someone else in your party grievous harm.”
    Gone was the frisson of awareness that came whenever they touched and in its place was cold, hard fear. Isabella fought back a shiver.
    “If you think of anyone with a reason to wish you harm,” he said firmly, “let me know at once. You were lucky we’ve had so much rain of late, because the mud cushioned what might have otherwise been a more dangerous fall.”
    Isabella nodded. With some difficulty she managed to impose some calm upon herself. Wishing more than anything to change the subject so that she would not seem so vulnerable, she asked, “There was something else you wished to speak of?”
    His brow still furrowed, the duke took a moment to realize what she was asking. At the reminder he flushed. “Oh yes. It has been pointed out to me that it