Page 27

twenty-seven

T wo weeks had passed since Anthony’s wedding, and he hadn’t touched his wife.

Isabella was beautiful, but just slipping into her bedroom and taking her when they were getting to know each other better seemed wrong, although he enjoyed holding her when they slept together. Her reaction to his decision to help Lady Mary had left him incapable of focusing on his work for more than a few minutes. He wanted to make her as happy as she’d been again. He’d racked his brain to find something that would surprise her. Moonflowers obviously didn’t mean much to her.

That was why he’d organised a surprise for her.

He entered her parlour, interrupting a hushed conversation between her and Lawson. He didn’t grasp what they talked about, but whatever the subject was, they were passionate about it. They both straightened when he cleared his throat.

Isabella put a hand on her belly, cheeks reddening. “Anthony. I didn’t hear you.”

“I knocked twice.”

“Your Grace.” Lawson stood up and dropped a curtsy, her gaze on the floor.

“Are you busy?” he asked.

“Nothing of importance.” Isabella set aside her peppermint tea. She drank gallons of it.

“I have another surprise for you.” He stretched out his arm and smiled when she didn’t hesitate to take it.

“What is it?” She glowed.

“I need you to close your eyes and follow me.”

She did as told.

“I’ll guide you. I won’t let you trip.”

“I know.”

Her trust made him feel capable of lifting the house with a finger. She giggled when she tripped on a fold in the carpet along the corridor. He caught her to steady her and laughed too. Laughing with her was the most natural thing for him.

“The stairs,” he said.

She clung to him, still laughing. When she was about to trip again, he had to admit defeat.

“Too dangerous.” He gathered her in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s better,” he said, checking her eyes were still closed.

“I agree.” She snuggled closer to him.

“No peeking.”

She rested her head on the crook of his neck, her soft breathing fanning on his skin. Her lips were half an inch from his jaw, so close he felt their warmth.

And he didn’t laugh anymore. As she was in his arms with her eyes closed, the powerful need to protect her overwhelmed him. Their marriage might not have come from deep love—at least not on her part—but he would do his best to keep her safe and happy. The more he knew her, the more her presence filled his heart with happiness and hope.

He didn’t put her down even though he arrived at their destination, wanting to enjoy holding her for a moment longer.

“I’m going to put you down, but don’t open your eyes yet.”

“All right.”

He gently put her on her feet. She didn’t let go of his hand while he opened the door to the glasshouse. He’d spared no expense, ordering the most unique and precious flowers from growers all around the world.

He knew nothing of gardening, but the colourful bunch of large flowers and the sweet scents were impressive.

She twitched her nose. “The conservatory again. The scent is lovely, but there was no need to make me close my eyes.”

“Yes, there was.” He led her in front of the workbench where the recently arrived plants sat. “You can open your eyes.”

“What are you—Good Lord!” She clamped her hands on her mouth. She surveyed the collection with an expression that could be mistaken for sheer horror. “That’s a leopard orchid. The one that looks like pouting lips is a psychotria, and those are cat’s tails. That one is a middlemist red camellia. I can’t believe it. It’s the rarest flower in the world. A ghost orchid! A fire lily! It grows on the ashes after a fire and is considered a symbol of endurance and hope. They must have cost a fortune.”

He could afford it, and the expense was well worth her smile. “All for you. The glass house is yours. And you can decide what plants you want to grow in our gardens.”

She strode from one side of the table to the other, tilting her head to watch the plants from different angles and spouting bizarre names.

“There are seedlings as well.” He gestured at the bags with labels on the floor.

“Thank you.” She hugged him, pressing her body against his. “This is fantastic.”

He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled her scent. “I’m glad you like them. I want you to be happy here, to feel at home. I know you don’t love me, but perhaps with time, you won’t consider me a terrible choice for a husband.”

Sobs shook her, and the happy hug turned into her sagging against him for support. “You aren’t a bad husband. You’re kind and generous, and I’m very happy to be with you.” Her voice came muffled.

Yet she sobbed, her whole body shaking.

“Don’t cry.” He caressed her head. “I hope it’s a cry of happiness.” He handed her his handkerchief.

“Sorry, sorry.” She wiped her eyes. “The gift is fabulous, wonderful. I’m crying because of the surprise. Beautiful surprise. Yes, it’s happiness.”

He cupped her face. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s that…” She drew in a long breath. “You’re wonderful while I’ve been horrible to you.”

“No, you haven’t.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “You’re one of the few people who are always honest with me.”

She cried harder. “No, I’m not.”

“Everyone has secrets, but I know you don’t care about my scar or my title. I’m only Anthony for you, and that’s all I want. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m happy.”

She hugged him again with desperation as if she were hugging him for the last time.

* * *

Emotions tugged at Isabella in two different directions. There was absolute delight at her brand-new set of plants; they were more precious than the ones in her parents’ house. But she found it hard to stop the tears.

Anthony had to think she was hysterical. One moment she laughed; the next, she cried.

Only the tenderness for Anthony remained though. Her heart burst with it. After she examined the plants again and made sure they were all right, she went upstairs to her room but came to an abrupt halt before entering it.

A couple of maids were emptying her armoire and chest of drawers, supervised by the Dowager.

Lawson clasped her hands over her chest. “I couldn’t stop them, madam.”

“What’s happening here?” She stepped into the middle of her bedroom.

Trunks and boxes filled with her gowns were scattered around.

“There you are.” The Dowager glanced at her. “It’s time you dress properly as a duchess does.”

“I don’t understand.”

The Dowager waved at a pile of pink gowns on the bed. “I’m getting rid of those awful pink gowns. You aren’t a débutante anymore. You’re the Duchess of Gloucester, and you’ll dress accordingly.”

“There’s nothing wrong with those gowns, and I like them very much.” She snatched one of the discarded dresses and put it back in the armoire. “I’m old enough to decide what to wear, thank you.”

“Apparently not, since you have such childish tastes.” The Dowager turned towards one of the maids. “Take that thing out.”

She blocked the maid. “No. These gowns are perfectly all right, and I like them.”

“Stop this fuss. You’ll receive new gowns, of course. Better ones.” The Dowager’s calm tone irked her.

“No. I like these.” A sob built up in her chest, and she couldn’t contain it. Her emotions were all over the place. She sobbed in earnest, and the maid stepped back, glancing between the two duchesses.

“I beg you, madam,” Lawson said. “Her Grace is happy with her wardrobe.”

The Dowager radiated coldness. “Isabella represents the noble House of Beaufort. I will not let her ridicule us.”

Isabella put a hand on her mouth to muffle the sob. She wasn’t proud of her overreaction, but the more she cried, the louder the sobs. And tears welled up in her eyes so easily since she was with child.

“What is happening?” Anthony entered the room, carrying all his authority.

Everyone remained still.

The Dowager matched his harsh expression. “Nothing. It’s Isabella who’s making a fuss. I’m replacing some of her gowns.”

He surveyed the room, and his gaze lingered on her. “Without discussing your plan with Isabella first, I guess.”

“Well, she never has breakfast with us, and she spends her mornings locked up in her bedroom,” the Dowager said. “She obviously doesn’t want to mingle with us.”

Lawson handed Isabella a handkerchief. “Pull yourself together,” she whispered.

“Isabella.” His tone changed from hard to soft in a moment. “Do you want to get rid of those gowns?”

She swallowed a few times not to sound like a kitten. “No.”

“Then those gowns will stay.” He faced the Dowager.

“She can’t be seen around in one of those things.”

“She’s the Duchess of Gloucester, and she’ll do as she pleases.” He stepped aside. “Grandmama, please let Isabella decide.”

Judging by how frosty the air became, the Dowager wasn’t used to losing a battle. “I’ll order new gowns anyway.”

“Gowns that Isabella will choose.” Anthony was as frosty as his grandmother.

A moment of uncomfortable silence filled the room; the false calm itched along her skin.

“I need a word with my wife.” Anthony didn’t lose eye contact with his grandmother.

To her credit, the Dowager left the room with grace and without arguing. The maids followed her. Only Lawson hesitated before leaving.

When the door was shut, Isabella twisted the handkerchief, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry about the scene.”

“No. I’m sorry for how my grandmama behaved. She’s used to controlling everything. She’s always been like that. I’ll talk to her and tell her not to make decisions for you.”

She nodded, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I hate seeing you crying.” He stood close to her, watching her with solemn eyes.

“I’m all right. It was mostly an angry cry. I feel rather silly now.”

He caught a tear sliding down her cheek. “I think the only silly one was Grandmama.” He picked up one of her pink gowns from the bed. “And I love this colour on you. You look beautiful in pink.”

“You’re just being kind.”

“No, I mean it. I think you should ask the modiste to make only pink gowns for you.”

She let out a chuckle. “Your grandmother would be horrified.”

“Isn’t that even better?”

She burst out laughing. “Thank you.”

“I love it when you laugh.”

His serious tone didn’t leave room for jokes.

“I love it when you laugh, too.”

They moved at the same time and hugged each other tightly. She had no idea what was happening. She didn’t trust her feelings right now. Between her worries about lying, the child, and her constantly upset stomach, she’d lost control of her emotions. The warm flutter in her chest, starting whenever Anthony hugged her, could be anything.

Including something devastatingly deep.