Page 16

sixteen

W eeks had passed since Isabella’s visit to Gloucester House, and she hadn’t seen Anthony once.

Everyone said he had recovered well, but for some reason, he didn’t receive anyone or go out. Between his work and family matters, he had to be busy. After her first visit with Mother and Helen, she’d tried to see him a few times with no success, and while she didn’t expect special treatment from him, she couldn’t deny her disappointment at the constant rejections of her visits or lack of answers to her letters. Helen had tried to meet him as well and failed.

The infection was gone, he wasn’t risking his life, and yet she had no idea what he was doing and why he didn’t want to see her.

Instead, she had spent a lot of time with Patrick. Long promenades and rides in the park had become their routine. Not a word about a possible marriage had ever been mentioned, and she had no clue as to what Anthony was thinking. Also, because Patrick never, ever answered any questions regarding his brother.

In the hallway in her home, she tied the bonnet under her chin, ready to meet Patrick for an afternoon tea.

Lawson helped her don her capelet. “Another meeting with Lord Patrick.”

“It means nothing. He needs a distraction from his family’s trouble, and we’re good friends.” Although she enjoyed the easy harmony between them and his humour.

Patrick was an uncomplicated, charming gentleman. A bit flippant, but his company didn’t carry the burden of being with a powerful duke.

“Are you going to see Patrick?” Helen asked, going down the stairs.

“We’ll have tea together in his house. Lawson will come with me. Do you need her?”

“No. I’m going with Mother to Lady Violet’s house. She’s going to introduce me to the Earl of Westbury.” Helen pinched her cheeks in front of the mirror until they were rosy.

Isabella stopped adjusting her hat. “You’re searching for a new suitor.”

Oddly enough, a tiny flare of relief warmed her chest. Helen was moving forwards. She wasn’t interested in the duke anymore. And in Helen’s defence, Anthony had vanished from their social life without a word.

Oh, well. He had his reason, but he didn’t want to marry Helen. Right now, he likely didn’t want to marry anyone.

“Mother insists,” Helen said. “The duke has become a recluse. Mother and Father are going to leave for Boston, and she can’t negotiate my marriage with the duke unless he comes out of his house and decides to talk to me again.”

“Let’s go, darling.” Mother hurried to the entry hall in her best coat. “We can’t stay for too long. I want you to have an extra piano lesson this week.”

Helen’s facial muscles tightened, and for a moment, Isabella believed her sister was going to talk back. “Another lesson, Mother? I spent more time at the piano than ever.”

Mother pointed a finger at her. “You played awfully the other day at Lady Theodora’s house. Everyone noticed that.”

Helen pressed her lips together. “I told you I didn’t feel well, but you insisted on making me play.”

“You must learn to play well even when you’re sick. I’ll see you later, Isabella,” Mother said as the footman opened the door for Mother. “The earl is such a handsome gentleman. Let’s hope you don’t ruin everything as you did…”

The rest of Mother’s words was cut off when the footman shut the door.

Helen had a point. Anthony didn’t even reply to her letters. Not that Isabella could blame him, and Helen’s urgency to get married was nothing new.

Lawson sat in front of her in the carriage. “You would prefer your mother’s company, I guess.”

“Tosh. Helen’s meeting is the priority, and I love your company.”

Lawson had been more present in her life than Mother. But Mother being with Helen meant they didn’t want to invest more time in the duke. The marriage market worked as any other market from that point of view. Once a product disappeared from the shelf, the customers searched for a replacement.

There was something cynical about that, though.

Patrick beamed when he saw her, his handsome face brightening. She smiled back, taking his arm to enter the sitting room flooded with sunlight.

She inhaled. The buttery scent of the biscuits and pastries teased her senses. Lawson took a chair next to the window.

“How’s Anthony?” Isabella asked. She always did, even though the answers were clipped at best, and vague at worst.

“The same.” Which didn’t mean much to her because she wasn’t sure what ailed him now.

“Do you think I could see him?” Another usual question.

Patrick gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.” Another usual answer. “I tell him you wish to see him every time, but he’s…it’s a difficult moment.”

“Don’t worry. I understand.” Although she didn’t.

“I’ll pass your greetings to him. But you know how he is.”

“How?”

Patrick cleared his throat. “Very peaky when it comes to choosing company.”

Was she the problem? Had Anthony realised she was nothing special? She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. He’d sounded honest when he’d told her he didn’t mind her spontaneity. But the incident might have changed his perspective.

She added a few dollops of cream to her tea. “You seem preoccupied as well.”

Patrick put down his cup. “I’m getting ready for a long journey.”

Her heart sank a little. “Where to?”

“To visit von Gruner. The old ass has finally agreed to negotiate with us, but since he has no intention of making the process easy, he invited me to his house in Cabo Verde of all places, in the middle of the ocean. It’ll take weeks of sailing to get there.”

“Will you be gone for a long time?”

“Alas, months. On my way back to England, I have to stop on the Continent as well to settle other businesses for Anthony.” He stared at his cup of tea as if wanting to divine his fortune. “I have to act on his behalf.” He chuckled bitterly. “I’m far from ready, but I don’t have a choice.”

She touched his hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

“So am I. That’s why I have a surprise for you.” He rose and held the door open for her.

She followed him as Lawson walked behind her. Along the corridor, he took Isabella’s hand, and her heartbeat quickened.

Lawson cleared her throat, but Patrick didn’t release Isabella’s hand.

“I meant to show you earlier, but with everything that happened, I forgot.” He led her through a series of corridors to a set of glass double doors that revealed a view of luxurious green plants.

“What do you think?” He showed her to the conservatory.

“Heavens.” She stepped into the glasshouse that was a riot of colours and delicious scents. There were orchids, peonies, and different varieties of lilies. Calling it a conservatory wasn’t correct. It was a botanical park under a glass dome, three times bigger than her own. The plants needed more care though. Some brown leaves needed to be removed, and a few stems needed to be pruned. “It’s lovely. I could spend hours here, tending to all these plants.”

Lawson didn’t show any enthusiasm.

Patrick kept holding her hand. “I come here only to…no, I never come here. It’s wet and hot, but you’re welcome to spend as much time as you want here.”

She touched the red petals of a hibiscus. “Wonderful.”

“Anthony comes here to read.” He pointed to a Chesterfield sofa tucked in a sunny corner under a cascade of purple irises.

She sighed at the beauty of the flowers. “I couldn’t picture a better spot.”

“Neither could I.” Anthony’s deep voice came from the door.

Everyone turned towards him in a moment of silent shock. She wasn’t ready for the surprise.

“Anthony.” Patrick straightened like a soldier in front of his superior.

Lawson dropped a deep curtsy, keeping her gaze on the floor.

Anthony didn’t step further into the glasshouse but stayed in the shadows. His auburn hair almost entirely covered the left side of his face, but a small patch of uneven skin could be seen.

“Your Grace.” Isabella curtsied. “Have we taken your spot?”

“Yes.” He put the book he was holding on a table.

“How are you?” she said, wishing she could hug him.

“Almost in one piece.” He didn’t smile, and she wasn’t sure what to make of his comment.

She searched the shadows but couldn’t see anything else of his face. “We were worried about you, sir.”

He didn’t answer, and an awkward silence dropped. The sound of the water dripping from either a fountain or an irrigation system filled the quiet conservatory.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, both because she didn’t bear the silence any longer and because she needed to apologise to him for her general sense of guilt.

“Don’t be sorry for me,” he hissed with venom. His long curls parted an inch, revealing a portion of swollen skin of his left cheek.

He turned around, but the Dowager came into view, and a new round of curtsies started.

The Dowager exchanged a harsh glance with Anthony. They stared at each other with such intensity she feared they might start shouting at each other.

“Your Grace.” Isabella curtsied again.

The Dowager stopped staring at her grandson. “The situation isn’t as dramatic as Anthony has let you think. We’re eager to celebrate Anthony’s complete recovery and Patrick’s imminent departure with a ball, an extraordinary event. I hope you and your family will be able to attend. I reckon your parents are going to leave for the Americas soon.”

“Yes, madam.” She felt as if she were a child again and her governess had asked her to list all the kings of England.

Anthony didn’t speak, but even in the dimly lit spot where he stood, she could tell he was clenching his jaw.

A little frown appeared on Lawson’s forehead. Isabella could almost hear the lady’s maid’s thoughts. Mother wouldn’t be able to refuse the invitation, but at the same time, she wouldn’t be pleased. Not when Mother was already making other plans for Helen.

Isabella forced a smile. “We’ll be delighted.”

Anthony left without saying a word.

The Dowager followed his retreat with palpable disappointment. “It’s decided then.” She too left with the same long strides as her grandson.

Patrick exhaled when they were alone. “I apologise for my brother’s rudeness.”

“Please don’t. He has every right to be grumpy, and we intruded into his quiet place.”

He angled towards the spot where Anthony had been. “Quiet is the last thing my brother needs.”

* * *

“Anthony!” Grandmama’s voice echoed in the corridor as Anthony walked away from the conservatory.

Seeing Isabella again without warning had been a punch to his stomach. She was radiant and beautiful, full of life and laughter. Her obsidian eyes sparkled. Her porcelain skin was unblemished. He had never noticed how smooth her skin looked until now. How petty of him.

“Don’t you walk away from me.” Grandmama overtook him and blocked his path. She was one fast old woman; he would give her that. She pointed a finger at him. “There was no need to be rude to Isabella.”

“You don’t even like her.”

“A further reason to be polite.”

“There was no need to ambush me like that! I don’t want a ball to celebrate my recovery.” He gnashed his teeth, forcing his voice down.

“We’ll give a ball and show everyone that the Duke of Gloucester is well and as powerful as ever. Rumours are circulating about your recovery. People are starting to question why you are hiding. We Beauforts don’t hide from anyone.”

“To hell with the House of Beaufort.” He sidestepped her.

There was no point in giving a ball or seeing Isabella again. He couldn’t ask her to be his wife. She shouldn’t be tied to a circus freak of a duke. Only his title was left of him, a bloody cursed gift he’d never wanted.

“Don’t you dare!” She gripped at his arm with surprising strength. “I’ve been patient with you. I gave you time to recover. But you’ve been hiding like a coward in your room, doing nothing but sulking and being horrible to us who love you. Enough!”

“I’ve been sick and weak in case you haven’t noticed.”

Her voice shook. “You must do this, Anthony. I’m not saying that because of our family’s prestige. I’m saying it because I love you. And I’m ready to force you to do something you don’t want to for your own sake. I lost my son. I won’t lose my grandson, too.” She strode past him, almost bumping her shoulder into his.

Her quick footfalls died down along the corridor behind him.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, touching the uneven, scarred skin.

He’d gone to war and returned home without a scratch, only to get scarred during a duel that hadn’t involved him. Life didn’t lack irony.

But he’d be damned if he put himself on display in a stupid ball. Besides, his body still needed to recover from the fever and the infection.

“Anthony.” Quick and light footsteps came from behind him.

Isabella. He didn’t dare to turn around and face her but remained still.

Her footsteps slowed down. Then a delicate hand touched his arm. “How are you?”

Her light touch sent a shot of sensations through him. His heart gave a kick, and tingles danced on his suddenly awakened skin.

“I was worried about you. You disappeared. Why?” She gently tightened her grip on his arm.

If she kept touching him, his darkness would infect her, and it was horrible of him to wish she would stay next to him now. A flare of anger heated his chest. Not at Isabella. But it was cruel he’d found her beautiful light, only to realise he could never have her.

He turned towards her, letting the sunlight show all his ugliness. “This is why.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t release his arm. “Good Lord, Anthony.”

He faced the corridor again, unable to endure her shock. “Leave, Isabella.” He slid his arm out of her grip and walked away, but she stubbornly followed him in a disturbing repeat of the scene with Grandmama.

Isabella didn’t block his path, though. “You didn’t answer my letters.”

“I know.”

He’d tried many times to answer her letters, but the courage to send them had deserted him. Grandmama was right.

“Please.” She took his hand, and again the whiplash of the emotions made him catch his breath. Her soft, silky fingers trailed over his knuckles, leaving him defenceless against her sweetness. And it wasn’t a nice feeling.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What?”

She seemed at a loss for words. “Promise me you’ll give that ball. Promise me you’ll be there.”

She had no idea what she was asking of him.

“I can’t. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you. You haven’t changed. You’re the same man who helped me free a little animal in the forest and who showed me the secrets of an ancient castle.”

Those memories were so happy and precious that he didn’t wish to remember them and risk poisoning them with his foul mood.

“Promise me you’ll give that ball,” she said.

“I have changed.”

Withdrawing his hand from hers caused him physical pain, but he couldn’t lie and make a promise he could not keep.