Disclaimer: The characters used are credited towards Stephenie Meyer, and the concept and plot ideas belong to Amanda Foreman. I do not claim to own either.

The Duchess

"How do you plan on making this bet fair?" Jacob Black inquired.

The young and beautiful Isabella Swan smiled back at him, "When is gambling something that is considered fair?"

"True, Isabella, but certainly all you ladies are going to want to place your bet on the same man, will there be a fray over it?"

Isabella looked scoffed at the suggestion, and began un-pinning her hat from her head, "We shall each draw names for the man whom our bets will be placed on," she announced to the other girls in her company.

The other five girls smiled in approval, and the servants began setting up some sort of a course to be raced on. Isabella finished scrawling down the last mans name and placed them all in her hat to be drawn.

She and the other ladies stood so the servants could move their chairs closer to the edge of the canopy, and the men began taking off their jackets, and rolling up their sleeves in preparation.

Isabella approached each woman to draw and name, and each woman announced the name of their champion. Isabella went last and when she pulled the last name out, she smiled to herself.

"You better not let me down Jacob Black, I have high stakes riding on you."

"Then I suggest you double them," he replied, confidently, and seriously.

"Are you ready gentlemen? Twice around the track on my count, Three…Two…One… GO!" She screamed at the drop of her handkerchief. The men immediately sprinted off, and Isabella rejoined the other ladies cheering.

"Come on Mr. Black!"

Inside, the atmosphere is much different than outside at the picnic. The room has a serious air about it; the only prominent noise is the ticking of a clock, and a solicitor scratching down the date, 'The fourteenth of May, 1774…'

The sun is shining through the windows, and voices of the ladies cheering on the race bleed through the windows, making the silence more bearable.

The Duke is standing at the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching Isabella cheer, with interest. Isabella's parents, Lady Swan, and Lord Swan are seated a ways behind the Duke watching him, watch their daughter.

Lady Swan is the first to cautiously speak up, "I trust your grace still finds Isabella an attractive girl?"

The Duke turns, and his looks are breathtaking. He is noticeably older than Isabella, but has retained some of his beauty of his youth. He has strikingly blonde hair that is pulled back into a pony at the nape of his neck, and skin so pale, it almost sparkled.

He looked back to Lady Swan and responded to her question in a questioning tone of his own, "Of course, Lady Swan."

Lady Swan begins pouring tea to drown out the silence, and to distract herself.

"She is well-bred, and devoted to her duties. She can speak French, Italian and Latin of course. And she well trained in horsemanship…" but she was cut off by the Duke's response.

"Of course, I know all this."

Lady Swan continues anyways, "I can't think of any reason that she would not have a singular most promising marriage."

The Duke gives his solicitor a significant look, and the solicitor speaks up for the first time.

"These things are not what concerns the Duke. The most prominent duty His Grace has is to produce an heir. Lady Swan. Of course, when that happens, your daughter will be well rewarded…"

The Duke promptly cut him off, not wanting to get into that, "Thank you."

His Grace continues looking out the window again, not to see Isabella, but out of boredom. He finds this prenuptial business perpetually boring.

Lady Swan continues to engage him in conversation however, "You can rest assure Your Grace, the women in our family have never forfeited on that account."

The solicitor looks to The Duke for his response, but when no response was given, he continued on his own.

"Well with that assurance," he began, and then scribbled down on his parchment without another word.

Then The Duke turned around abruptly, and smiled, and as he did so, everyone in the room visibly shirked back, "So be it then."

Back outside, the men are running the last leg of the race, with Mr. Black in the lead.

Isabella lets out one more exuberant cheer, "Come on Black!"

At the sound of his name, Black puts his head down and accelerates, winning the race. All the men finish exhausted and sweating; some are even doubled over trying to catch their breath.

Meanwhile, Isabella is collecting money from all the other ladies in her company.

"I do apologize ladies, but it appears my horse has won," she says proudly. The other women smile and stay gathered around her.

Black approaches the group, still out of breath but looking very manly and athletic.

Isabella turns to him at his approach, "Well done, Mr. Black"

Black stands closer to Isabella that what is normally expected and the others notice putting a slight edge to the atmosphere.

"And my reward?" he asks very flirtatiously, adding to the tension.

Isabella plays along, and seems to be the only one comfortable with his behavior. "What would you suggest?" she asks, equally suggestive.

The others in their company smile to each other, and Black is just about to respond with a reply when…

"Your mother wishes to see you, Miss Isabella," a servant announces to Isabella. His announcement breaks the spell Mr. Black has over her, and she immediately sets off towards the house with a curtsey to her company. Mr. Black returns with a bow, and watches her ascend towards the house, while putting his jacket back on.

Back inside, Isabella enters the same parlor that prenuptials were taking place moments before, but now all that is left is her mother, Lady Swan.

Isabella begins by apologizing, "I'm sorry Mama, were we making too much noise?"

Lady Swan dismisses the comment with a smile, as if nothing else mattered. "Now, we have much more important things to discuss Isabella."

Isabella takes a step closer to her mother, and her mother is trying to keep herself composed, but her happiness, and excitement is shining through. And in turn Isabella is too, becoming irresistibly happy.

"I have heard a rumor…" Lady Swan begins, but stops to create suspense.

"Yes?" Isabella urges.

"That I will soon be addressing my daughter as Her Grace, Duchess of Devonshire."

Isabella's mouth drops open in an un-lady like way, and sputters before responding, "Truly Mama?"

Her mother responds smugly, "It is."

Isabella remains quiet as she composes herself, The Duke, and she would be a Duchess, she ran this through her head several times before saying it out loud, "The Duke of Devonshire…"

"Ah yes," Lady Swan begins, as she realizes she's missed an important part, "This is where our real discussion begins."

Isabella eyes her mother curiously and joins her on the sofa where her mother is summoning her.

"It is not the current Duke you are to be married to, we have been mislead this whole time."

"I beg your pardon, Mama, I don't understand…"

"The Duke has dined with us twice, not to find a suitable bride for himself, but for his eldest son, his heir."

"Son?"

"Yes, as it turns out, The Duke was married only three short years, before he was widowed, but his bride gave him three children before her untimely death. Now, for whatever reason, he did not disclose, his son is stepping up and taking his place as Duke of Devonshire."

Isabella looks confused, yet intrigued. The excitement of becoming a Duchess as still there, but the new prospect of marrying someone closer to her own age was beginning to sink in. Never, did she think she could have it both ways.

A new feeling set in however, as Isabella rethought the situation. An arranged marriage is what it is, but isn't it still customary to meet with her husband prior to the marriage? Would she be able to meet him before hand? Would he be a Duke by then?

"What is his name?" Isabella asked, instead.

"Edward," her mother replied, and Isabella felt a tingle go through her body at the name.

Her mother rested her hand on Isabella's cheek, "I had hoped not to part with you until 18, but this is a fine match, and it would be selfish of me not to let you go."

"Did Edward not want to meet me?"

"I believe he does Isabella, but I also believe rather, that The Duke has not given him an opportunity. His time and efforts have been spent preparing him for his position as Duke, not as husband. But mind you, he is only 20, this as fine of a match you could ever dream of Isabella."

Isabella closed her eyes and leaned into her mothers touch, "How can His Grace be certain, that his son and I will be such a fine match?"

"Rest assured, Darling, you shall be a fine match, and you shall be Duchess, and produce many heirs."

Later that day, Isabella walked out to her balcony to reflect on her new life that awaits her. The sun was just setting, and the party she had left was still gathered by the canopy. She could not help but notice that Mr. Black was sitting off to one side, starring across the fields. She was sad to leave her friends and her life, but sincerely optimistic about her new life. As far as she was concerned, she was the luckiest girl she knew, and she was determined to have a prosperous marriage to Edward. She went to bed without seeing anyone else that night, and spent the evening dreaming of what her Edward would be like.