Free Once a Duchess by Elizabeth Boyce

nothing I can do about the fact that I have no title. The chances of the Crown bestowing a title upon a perfectly unremarkable farmer are non-existent.”
    “That’s true,” Isabelle said, “but Alex — ”
    “The only thing within my control,” Alexander said, lowering his gaze to regard her, his eyes hard, “is the fact that I have a divorced sister. I can either pack you off to a convent, Isa, or see you married.”
    “We aren’t Catholic,” she said petulantly.
    “No, but Mama was.”
    “She converted!”
    He waved a hand. “Don’t drive the conversation off course. Mama’s Catholicism doesn’t signify.”
    “But you can’t send me to a convent.”
    “You’re tempting me.” Alexander jabbed a finger at her glass of port. “Drink that,” he ordered. “I don’t like having this conversation with you quite so sober.”
    She gave him an exaggerated nod, then took a sip of her drink. “Forgive me for highlighting the logical flaws in your scheme to disown me,” she said.
    “I don’t want to disown you, Isa,” Alex said hotly. “What I want is to eradicate your divorced status. And the only way to accomplish that is for you to remarry.” He pulled his legs in and leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the table. “Don’t you want to marry?”
    Of course she did. Well, not really. She exhaled loudly. Still, she wanted children, and to achieve that goal in a respectable fashion, she needed a husband.
    Once again, she remembered herself in Marshall’s arms at the George and squirmed uncomfortably against the heat that sprang to life. No matter how she’d like to share more such intimacy with him, she was instead going to have to share it with someone else. The thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth. “Yes,” she said in a flat tone, “I should like that very much.”
    “Good.” Alexander nodded. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Isa, you know I’m not one to preach; however, you must realize that you cannot go on now as you have before.”
    She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
    He cut his eyes to the left and cleared his throat again. “The reason Monthwaite divorced you.”
    Hot shame shot through her. “Alex!” she cried. “Tell me you do not believe that! I have told you repeatedly, Justin and I did nothing wrong.”
    “I don’t know what to believe.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. The light from the candles on the nearby sideboard flickered across his features. “At this point, the truth doesn’t matter.”
    “Of course it matters,” Isabelle protested passionately, nearly quivering with her desire to be understood. “It matters very much to me that my brother thinks I’m an adulteress, when I’m not!”
    “You were divorced for adultery, whether you committed it or not. To the world, you are an adulteress, Isa, and that’s just the way of it.”
    It was true. Society had branded her with a stigma, and there was nothing she could do to rid herself of it. Denying impropriety had never gotten her anything for her trouble but a dry throat.
    “You’re not going to have scads of suitors,” Alexander continued. “You’ll be lucky to have any choice whatsoever.”
    Isabelle’s tongue recoiled in her mouth at his words, as though being forced to swallow a particularly bitter medicine.
    “I mean for you to find a husband this Season.”
    “ This Season?” Isabelle asked, bewildered. “The Season is almost underway!”
    “There is plenty of time for you to get to town and attend all the balls and routs you’d like.”
    Isabelle remembered the pitiful collection of clothing she’d brought home in her trunk. “Alex,” she said, mortified to confess her lack of wardrobe, “I sold my good dresses when I moved to the cottage. I haven’t had any new ones in years now.”
    His green eyes were piercingly clear in the light. “I cannot outfit you like Monthwaite did.”
    Her cheeks burned. “I never