“I must.”
The older man hummed. “You know, you don’t get to be married as long as I have without learning a thing or two about women. I’m sure if you tell her that you’re sorry for whatever it is that you broke between the two of you, then she will forgive you. Sometimes all a person wants to hear is a sincere apology.”
“I think the problems I have caused with her are far beyond repair.”
“Have you tried?”
“Stopping the marriage is trying.”
Mr. Peregrine gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll do everything I can to help you, but she may never forgive you for this either.”
“But at least she will be happy.”
At the end of the day that was all Felix cared about. He simply wished that Isabelle would find genuine happiness, whatever that looked like to her. Forfeiting the agreement with her father would hurt the duchy, but it would save her.
Twenty-Three
“Do you really intend to marry her?” Felix kept his hands loose at his sides though all he could think to do was wring Lord Milton’s neck for the way he planned to hurt Isabelle.
While Mr. Peregrine’s leads had been helpful, Felix also needed to hear it for himself. He needed to be certain that his former friendship was far past the point of reconciliation.
The man—Lord Waterby—leaned closer to Lord Milton, tipping his glass in Isabelle’s direction. “She is not from England. She will never be a British bride. You must think of your future.”
“I am thinking of my future. Her father runs the largest importing business in America. To think of marrying anyone else would be irrational.”
Lord Milton laughed and pulled out a flask from the breast of his jacket, screwing off the top and taking a long pull before holding it out to Felix.
“No, thank you. Wine is all I partake in from time to time.” Felix cleared his throat. “Is her being the daughter of an import company all that draws you to her?”
Lord Milton shrugged and held the flask to Lord Weatherby. The other lord took a sip before handing it back. Lord Milton smirked. “There are several appealing things about Miss Alden, though who her father is can without a doubt be found on that list.”
“And yet you must seriously consider the status of this woman. She is an outcast among all of the other ladies of theton. Is that truly someone with whom you wish to be associated through marriage?” Lord Weatherby asked.
Lord Milton scoffed, shrugging a shoulder and casually observing Isabelle. “One woman is as good as any other.”
“Butlookat her.”
Felix peered past the two of them to where Isabelle was enjoying a country dance with Stanford. She laughed, her cheeks rosy and bright as he swung her around before letting her go as they danced down the path created by two lines of guests.
She spun at the end of the line, taking her place on one side while Stanford moved to the other. They clapped their hands in time with the music as the next couple made their way down the line.
Lord Milton chuckled derisively and shook his head. “Look at her. She will never blend in on her own. I am going to get much credit for being the gentleman who tamed the American.”
“You mean to take her in hand then and show her the life she should be leading?” Felix asked, watching once again as Lord Milton took another pull from his flask.
“I will have her reduced to a gentle wife the day after we wed.” Lord Milton smirked. “There are things you must know about women such as those, and it is that they require a firm hand. If you are too lenient with them, well, then they will never learn.”
Lord Weatherby gave Felix a sly look before his attention returned to Lord Milton. “I have heard she argues with Windham. If she is willing to match wits against a duke, then what gives you the impression that she will bend to you?”
Felix ground his teeth together, his hands stuffing into his pockets so them men wouldn’t see the way he curled them as if he were ready to lunge.
“There is nothing that a swift switch cannot fix.”
Felix pressed himself closer to the wall, his blood boiling. He glared at the man standing in front of him, wondering what kind of man could raise a hand to their future wife, let alone a switch.
How dare Lord Milton stand there and speak of my beautiful imp in such a blatantly disrespectful, callous manner. I have half a mind to wring his bloody neck.
Lord Milton had branded Isabelle an American as though it was a curse. He only viewed her as something to be beaten into obedience. He would willingly hurt her to shape her into the wife he desired.
