A/N:

I love how you guys are spinning your theories for what's to come! And some of them are just … wow.

Title: The Duke & The Swan without Wings

Author: MarieCarro

Beta: Alice's White Rabbit

Pre-reader: Brierlynn03

Genre: Historical Fiction/Drama/Romance

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Edward Cullen, the Grand Duke and second son of the King, must find a bride. Isabella Sinclair, daughter of Countess Catherine and Duke Charles, was born out of wedlock and has neither titles nor land to her name. Could she be the bride Edward's looking for? But how is Isabella to marry a man of the royal family without a proper dowry?

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

{CHAPTER 21}

"Be endlessly grateful you shall never host a state dinner here," Rosalie told Isabella with flourish as the servants prepared a place setting for the two of them to practice dinner etiquette. "Those debacles are miserable, and while it'll be expected of you to attend them once you're Grand Duchess, it's always better to be a simple guest than a host. That responsibility lies with Carlisle and Esme."

Isabella's head was hazy with all the information Rosalie had given her in the last few hours. She clearly knew how to conduct herself as a lady and noblewoman as it was in her blood and had, despite the duke's contempt of her, been a part of her upbringing, but she had never imagined there was such a vast difference between noble affairs and royal ones.

"I'll go over the rules of a simple dinner party with you. It's less to learn, and you're already familiar with how to attend one. It's the planning and hosting of one that can become complicated." They sat down by the table, and Rosalie gestured toward each seat. "The hostess is always seated at the head of the table unless a king or queen is present as she's viewed as the organizer of the dinner and the host will have to follow her cues. The seating arrangement is rarely set, but in the event that I'd be attending a dinner here and Esme wasn't present, according to my social status, Edward would escort me into the hall, and then I would choose my seat first. As the most honorary seat would be at your right, that's the most coveted one, especially by the noblemen present."

The lesson continued for hours, and eventually, Emmett joined them to help with demonstrating.

"Guests should be seated according to their social status, but it's not always as easy as judging based on their titles," he explained. "I apologize in advance if you take offense to me bringing up the Swan girls, but say Maria and Eleanor were at a dinner. Usually, Maria would have seniority over Eleanor as the older sister, but now, Eleanor is about to become a married woman, and as long as Maria remains unmarried, Eleanor goes above her."

"That would certainly make Maria agitated," Isabella said with a gleeful smile. "Her entire life has been built on the dominance she has over Eleanor. I'd have loved to be there when she realized it was no more." The hours filled with conversation about rules and etiquette had tired Isabella to the point where she felt unable to suppress her yawns, and the fatigue made her less concerned about acting proper or downplaying the hatred she harbored for the girls she'd called sisters her whole life.

Rosalie could see the delirious exhaustion in Isabella's eyes and decided that was the end of the lesson for the day. She understood how overwhelming the amount of rules could be, but she had grown up with them and was so used to every minute detail she sometimes forgot when to stop.

She immediately stood up from her seat and indicated for Isabella to do the same before hooking the girl's hand around her elbow, then placed her own hand on top to keep it in place. "I believe we deserve a break," she said and led Isabella from the hall.

After a short moment of silence with Emmett walking next to them, Rosalie decided it was high time to learn more about the girl.

"As much as I'm certain Edward appreciates your determination for learning about all of this, and if not him, I know our father does, you know it's not expected of you to know it all, don't you? Edward loathes entertaining nobles, and that won't change because he becomes a married man."

"I know," Isabella said, very much aware of how much of a recluse Edward had always been viewed because of how rarely he hosted feasts or guests at his estate. "But some will always be expected of him, and therefore, by extension, me." She looked away from her company for a moment as her mind reminisced about her dark past. "I've endured a life of ridicule, and once Edward and I are married, everyone will know who I am and where I come from, especially my past as a natural child even if it was a lie. I'd rather spare myself the worst of the gossip by actually knowing how to present myself as a member of the royal family instead of making a fool of myself."

Rosalie nodded, but Emmett was the one who replied.

"Edward would make every noble house his personal enemy before he allowed anyone to say one bad word about you."

Isabella laughed softly. "I'm sure of it, and so I'd better prevent that from becoming a necessity." She exchanged a knowing look with them. "I know how much Edward loves me because I love him equally. He'd defend me to the last drop, but I don't want him to estrange himself from all he's ever known to do so."

{TDTS}

Edward exited his carriage and swallowed his prompt need to grimace when he took notice of the duke and duchess, together with Eleanor and the Duke of Dawlins, greeting the arriving guests with great wide smiles. Eleanor's smile was a little tighter, but she played her part as excited bride-to-be well.

After bracing himself with a deep breath, he reluctantly climbed the stone steps and addressed the hosts.

"Your Royal Highness," Duke Swan said and bent his neck in a respectful, but brief, show of subservience. Edward severely doubted it was sincere, though, as he was quite convinced Charles Swan had little to no respect for the royal family.

He remembered their conversation in the duke's study while he was disguised and how offended the man had appeared when he spit out that he had royal blood in his veins, and yet, he saw little to no privileges from the relation. No privileges he saw himself as deserving of, at least.

"Your Graces. Thank you for the invitation," Edward said politely, and then realized with a start he hadn't been at Swanselm, as far as the Swans were concerned, since the hunting ball when he first laid eyes on Isabella's sisters. He had to remember that and not move around the estate with too much familiarity. "And allow me to congratulate Your Grace and Miss Eleanor on your engagement. I wish you all the happiness." He bit his tongue and forced another smile, and then entered the castle.

He noticed the changes that had been made on the interior as soon as he stepped inside, and he wondered which treasure chest the duke had depleted in order to afford it—his tenants, the church's, or if he'd dared to drive his greedy fingers into Sunfield and Lambcox finances? Edward vowed that the Swans would have to pay back every coin if they had stolen so much as a ribbon from Isabella.

"Your Royal Highness, how lovely to be graced with your good company," the dowager duchess said when she rounded the corner and saw him. She made a deep curtsy to show off she remembered and respected their shared bloodline, but Edward's only desire was to send her off somewhere to live out the rest of her days in the same misery she had allowed to be bestowed upon her granddaughter.

In the end, no matter who was married and who wasn't, Isabella was a Swan by blood, but that had mattered little to Lady Mariella and her son.

"Your Grace," Edward said. "You must be filled with joy over Miss Eleanor's engagement. As Miss Maria, once she marries, Miss Eleanor will be a duchess in her own right. His Grace, the Duke of Dawlins, is a fine match and His Majesty approves."

In truth, Edward knew his father neither approved nor the opposite since Eleanor's match with Dawlins didn't tip the balance of the nobleman's power. Had her dowry come with vast lands and property as Maria's did, another verse would have been sung.

"Indeed, it's a happy occasion." Much like Edward, the dowager duchess didn't mention the painstakingly large age difference between the betrothed couple. With his refreshed and ignited cynical view of the Swans, Edward had a feeling all of them hoped Dawlins would pass on sooner rather than later.

Edward held out his arm for the dowager duchess to take so he could escort her to the ballroom, playing his designated part of prince attending a noble house's social gathering and despising every second of it.

He could feel the older woman trying to subtly steer them in her desired direction, and it soon became apparent to Edward where she wanted him to be. In as close proximity as possible to Maria, and he knew he would have to endure not-so-discreet hints about her availability.

Isabella had told him everything about Maria's infatuation with him, but he had never believed the insanity would have been encouraged by the rest of the family. On the three—official—previous encounters the two of them had, he thought he'd made his lack of interest quite clear.

Unfortunately, Edward had no allies around him at Swanselm who could rescue him from the upcoming peril. Laurent and his footmen had no choice but to remain with the other servants, and no one else was aware of Edward's disdain for the hosting family.

Or so he believed when the most unlikely, god-sent person intervened.

"Your Royal Highness, Your Grace, I sincerely hope I'm not disturbing, but may I speak with Your Royal Highness on some urgent matters?" Father Jacob asked.

Lady Mariella was a most devoted member of his congregation, and she couldn't bring herself to dismiss a holy man, but she did so reluctantly.

Edward and Father Jacob found themselves a more private corner, and the bishop didn't beat around the bush, which was much appreciated.

"I must apologize, Your Royal Highness. Your servant, on your behalf, requested my presence at your estate weeks ago. I've been intent on traveling for quite some time; however, some unfortunate troubles have befallen my shoulders as of late, and my time's been short."

"How so, Father?"

Father Jacob hesitated and appeared conflicted as trembling words left him. "There was a wedding that never happened, and I've had pressure from the poor man left at the altar, as well as the bride's family."

He was speaking of Isabella, there was no doubt in Edward's mind about that, and he seized the opportunity immediately. "You're saying a betrothed woman has disappeared? Did she leave or was she taken?"

The bishop appeared beyond torn when presented with the simple questions, and he clutched his rosary tightly in his hand. Then, the good father broke down before Edward's eyes. "Oh, Your Royal Highness, it's most awful. The girl was His Grace's protégée, Miss Isabella Sinclair. She disappeared but a few days before the wedding, and no one knows where she is. In order to reassure her fiancé, His Grace had me convince him she's spending time at a convent to repent for her sins before they marry."

"That does sound very stressful, indeed, Father," Edward said and looked at the bishop with as much sympathy as he could muster without the mask slipping. "And to hear that Miss Sinclair is missing is very troubling," he continued. "I've only had the pleasure of meeting her once myself, but she was very lovely." A sudden idea entered his mind, and he decided to see how far it would lead him. "Who is the nobleman or gentleman anxiously awaiting her return?"

Father Jacob's face creased with confusion. "The man's neither, Your Royal Highness. Mr. Ashbrook is a merchant. A successful one, yes, but without any titles to his name."

Edward feigned his own bewilderment. "Truly? How peculiar. Why would His Grace match his protégée with someone so far beneath her own social status?"

"You've lost me, Your Royal Highness. I don't understand of whom you're speaking."

"Well, I'm speaking of Miss Sinclair, of course. She's to be a countess, is she not? I would have thought His Grace would have urged for her to marry a baron, at the very least."

Father Jacob blanched and swayed in his spot, once again clutching his rosary. "Your Royal Highness knows the truth?"

The bishop's reaction was dramatic enough for Edward to feel confident his next question wouldn't reveal the ruse. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion, as anyone would have in his situation had they not known what Father Jacob was talking about. "What truth?"

"The truth of Miss Sinclair's birthright."

Edward could have continued with the theater if he so wished, but he now had Father Jacob in the perfect state of mind to press him for some more truths. "I do," he said earnestly and made a sweep over the guests behind them for any curious listeners. "I shall very much like to hear what you have to say on that matter when you come to my estate in a few days' time." He left no room for protest or argument. He posed the statement as a pleasant request, but he made it clear it was rather an order this time.

Father Jacob bowed his head. "Most certainly, Your Royal Highness."

"Perfect. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this feast, Father," Edward said and left the bishop to stew in his own thoughts and fears.

A/N:

So far, so good. Nothing bad has happened. Edward got to talk to Father Jacob who revealed some things and now has more incentive to travel to Spensley as soon as possible.

But the party isn't over! More to come in the next chapter!

Until then,

Stay Awesome!