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thirty-eight

A nthony hated gardening, but working next to his wife in the secret garden had its perks. After the gardeners had cleaned up the patch, it was only he and she among the scented flowers, butterflies, and the sound of the waves. They had the pool all to themselves, and no one ever bothered them.

Four weeks of hard work had turned the wild place into a lovely, manicured pleasure garden with the marble statues shining in the sunlight. The plants Isabella had chosen needed to grow and bloom, but overall, the work was worth it.

He was sitting under their favourite tree with her after a particularly pleasant dip in the pool. She rested her head on his lap, her hair wet. The sunlight and the gardening had turned her skin a lovely shade of brown and gold Grandmama found outrageous, but he loved it. Her body was supple again thanks to the delicious food and the exercise, and the dark shadows in her gaze had gone.

“We have to return to London, don’t we?” she asked as he caressed her hair.

“Not yet, and I want to return here to see all the flowers growing, and of course, I’ll have a gardener take care of all the work we’ve done.”

“It’s so beautiful what we did together.”

He caressed her cheek and neck. She’d gained weight, returning to her flourishing form, but above all, she smiled more although she wasn’t the completely careless woman he’d met. Maybe she would never be again.

“I want to give you an heir,” she said.

“Isabella.” He shook his head. “You listen to Grandmama too much.”

“I mean, I want a child with you. I want our love to grow as it grows here.”

He kissed her, tasting the salt on her lips and the sunlight in her laugh.

“Your Grace?” Rogers’s voice came from the other side of the wall closing the garden. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

Scoffing, he opened to the butler. “What is it?”

“Lord Patrick is here, sir.” Rogers wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “He brought Lady Sophia with him.”

“What? Without telling me?”

“Patrick is here?” Isabella walked over to them. “I didn’t know he would come.”

“I ordered him to,” he said. “When I sent the invitations for the ball.”

“Why?” Her eyes widened with unmistakable fear.

He didn’t want to reveal he knew the truth in front of Rogers, so he remained silent. But words weren’t needed. She paled.

“Rogers, you may return to the house. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked the moment Rogers was out of earshot.

“I didn’t want to upset you. You were recovering so well.”

She brushed a few leaves from her gown. “How did you…”

“It was obvious.”

She lowered her gaze. “All this time, you knew the truth, but you didn’t tell me.”

“Again, I wanted to protect you.”

“I felt guilty all this time, torn between telling you or not, and you already knew everything.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Hell. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

She brushed past him. “I need a moment.”

“Isabella.”

“Please.” She started up the stairs without looking at him.

* * *

Thoughts piled up too quickly in Isabella’s mind for her to keep up with them.

Anthony had meant to protect her, but at the same time, he could have spared her a lot of misery by talking to her. On the other hand, she hadn’t mentioned Patrick either.

Speaking of the devil. She came to a stop on the veranda where Patrick was talking with the Dowager. The stunning blonde woman at his side had to be Lady Sophia. Her pristine blue dress matched her large eyes, and with her slender, elegant figure, she looked like a princess out of a fairy tale. Patrick was the perfect Prince Charming next to her.

Isabella patted her hair; it had to be a disaster between sweat and salty water. Her gown wasn’t faring better with wrinkles and grass blades. Instead of proceeding to the veranda, she took the side path and headed for the French window. She met Lawson along the way to her bedroom.

Lawson gave her an alarmed look. “Lord Patrick is here.”

She tugged at her gown. “I know.”

“Do you need help to change, madam?”

“I do.” And to hide.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here,” Lawson said once they were in the bedroom.

“Anthony ordered him to come. He knows.”

Lawson paused with the comb in her hand. “Since when?”

“Since it happened. He didn’t tell me anything.”

“That’s…good, isn’t it?” Lawson brushed Isabella’s hair.

“I guess so. I’m not sure. I think he should have told me.”

“Maybe His Grace didn’t want to upset you.”

“But what’s the point of inviting Patrick here then?”

Lawson worked in silence to make her presentable again.

Was she overreacting? After all, Anthony had been kind to her, even though he’d known the truth all along. But she was emotionally drained and physically tired of worrying.

He had forgiven her. Maybe he hadn’t forgiven Patrick.

Maybe she had to talk with both of them.

* * *

During the past difficult months, Anthony went through different emotions regarding his brother.

At first, he’d been furious. Then his worry for Isabella had taken over his mind, and then he’d found a sort of peace or acceptance.

Isabella was healthy again, they were happy together, and the past was the past. But the moment he found himself face-to-face with Patrick, who showed off his usual nonchalant attitude, something ugly stirred in his chest.

He forced a smile, bowing to Lady Sophia. She had none of her father’s harsh lines and unforgiving gaze. Tall and blonde, she had a soft face and a sweet voice. He wasn’t fool enough to let her looks deceive him. The von Gruners were proud and cunning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

She bowed her head, her golden curls bouncing over her cheeks. “Patrick told me everything about you.” Her gaze swept swiftly over the scar in a calculating way as if she were assessing his weakness.

He could bet Patrick had instructed her not to look alarmed at the scar.

“Alas, we know very little about you,” Grandmama said. “We didn’t even know you were coming.”

If Sophia was annoyed by Grandmama’s tone, she didn’t give any sign. “My fault. It was a last moment’s decision, and I insisted on coming here. After all, if we want to discuss the negotiation on Maiden Hill, we ought to see each other.”

Patrick kissed her hand and stared at her in awe. “Sophia has our cause at heart. She’s so compassionate and lovely, she understands our struggle.”

To his surprise, Sophia returned the lovey-dovey stare with matching devotion. For a moment, they got lost in each other’s stare as if they were alone in the world.

Grandmama exchanged a glance with him. He could hear her thoughts. Was it the first time Patrick had fallen in love?

He’d endured the usual pleasantries and polite exchanges with Sophia and Patrick, controlling his need to speak to his brother for almost an hour until he locked himself in his study with Patrick.

Not to mention Isabella was angry with him. He’d planned to tell her about Patrick at the right time but hadn’t found it. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to. Speaking about the truth meant to bring tension and unhappiness between them.

“I hope you’re as happy as I am, brother.” Patrick sprawled on the armchair and stretched out his long legs. “Maiden Hill will return to our family soon. With a bit of luck, we might celebrate Christmas there. Imagine, our house restored. And hell, Anthony, Sophia is everything for me…” His voice turned serious. “She’s as strict as Grandmama, fierce as a warrior, and gives me a sense of purpose, a direction. Does that make sense?”

Anthony propped himself on the desk, too restless to sit. “Right now, I care only about one thing. Isabella.”

“Of course. I understand.” Patrick snatched a glass of lemonade from the table. “Grandmama told me Isabella was terribly sick but didn’t specify anything. Not even you told me exactly what happened.”

“She suffered a miscarriage.” He did his best to stay calm.

That got Patrick’s attention. “Dammit, Anthony. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“You should be because the child was yours.” He couldn’t completely remove the tension from his voice.

Patrick stopped sipping. He remained frozen in shock for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Not possible.”

“Do you deny having had an encounter with Isabella?”

Patrick placed the glass on the table and stood up. “I did have an encounter with Isabella. It was nothing serious.” He glanced at Anthony before continuing. “But it was well before you and she got married. I had no idea you were interested in her. Hell, it happened before you decided to get married.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean by—” Patrick paled and scratched his chin.

“She married me because she was with child, your child, while you vanished, leaving the chaos you caused behind.”

Patrick held up his hands. “I had no idea she was with child. She didn’t tell me anything.”

“Should she have told you everything in a letter or a wire?”

Patrick swallowed a few times. “Anthony, I didn’t know. Had I known, I would have done something.”

“Marry her?”

“Yes!” Patrick straightened. For the first time, Anthony saw a strong resemblance between them. “I’m not completely despicable. If she was sure the child was mine?—”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Anthony moved before he realised he did. All the frustration he’d bottled up in past months burst out. He grabbed Patrick by his jacket. He’d spent his life protecting his little brother, and he didn’t regret it, but this time, defending Patrick wasn’t possible. “She nearly died.”

Patrick parted his lips, but before he could speak, there was a quick knock on the door.

“Anthony, I wanted—” Isabella swept into view, cheeks flushed. “What’s going on here? Anthony, release him immediately.”

He did as told but didn’t step back from Patrick.

“Is this why you asked him to come? To manhandle him?” She gazed from one brother to the other. “What’s happening?”

“Tell her,” Anthony said.

Patrick straightened his jacket. “Anthony told me about…the incident, and I told him that, had I known, I would have taken my responsibility if you were sure the child was mine.”

Her eyes flared wide with horror.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Isabella’s cheeks flushed. “You were my first and only one before my marriage. I know you didn’t mean to cause me trouble, and I agreed to everything we did together, but you ought to take your responsibility. You were the father of my child and…” She swallowed hard and left the room.

Anthony went after her.

As he followed his wife, Patrick shouted, “I’m sorry.”

“Isabella.” Anthony chased her up the stairs.

When they’d arrived on Mytos, she hadn’t been able to climb the stairs without taking a breather. Now she went up faster than a deer. She raced past her bedroom and went further up to the unfinished sunroom.

“Isabella.” He followed her.

She faced the window from where the secret garden was visible.

“Darling.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

“I didn’t have anyone else. I was with Patrick once, and then you. And no one else.”

“I don’t care how many lovers you had before me. I don’t care about who your first one was either, as long as I’m the last one.”

“What was the purpose of confronting Patrick?”

“He’s my brother. He must face the consequences of his actions and grow up.”

“You could have told me you knew the truth.”

“The truth doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. Nothing is going to change that.”

“I love you, Anthony.”

There was a knock on the door. “May I?” Patrick stood on the threshold of the dusty room. “I want to apologise.” He bowed from the waist. “I caused both of you a lot of suffering, and I’ll make amends. I promise. I say stupid things when I’m agitated, and I take every single stupid thing I said back. Please forgive me, Isabella.”

She stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head once.

“What can I do to make amends?” Patrick asked, his voice cracking.

Anthony held her hand. “Let’s start with taking Maiden Hill back.”

* * *

The guests they’d invited for the ball kept arriving at Sirocco House for three days. Wave after wave of sweaty and panting lords and ladies flooded the house.

Isabella had to neglect the secret garden to welcome the guests and take tea with them. Their quiet corner of the Mediterranean Sea had become crowded in a short time. But she smiled when Helen climbed the stairs to the main entrance, cheeks red and sweat glistening on her forehead. Her maid and footmen followed her.

“Helen.” She opened her arms to hug her sister. “Thank you for coming.”

Helen hugged her back. “I wouldn’t have missed this ball for anything in the world, and I’m happy to see you fully recovered.”

“I’ll show you your room. You’ll love it.”

As they went upstairs, Helen gazed around with interest. “This palace is magnificent.”

“The gardens are beautiful.” She entered Helen’s bedroom where the footmen were leaving the luggage. “You have a spectacular view from here.”

Helen removed her hat, pacing around. “Worthy of a princess.”

“I’m glad you think that.” Anthony entered the room, and Isabella’s heart gave a silly thump. He kissed her cheek. “Isabella is my queen.” He stared at her in awe before facing Helen. “Welcome.”

Helen bowed her head. “Anthony.”

“I hope you love Sirocco House as much as we do.” He lifted Isabella by the waist and made her twirl, tearing a laugh out of her.

“What are you doing?” She chuckled when he put her down.

Helen averted her gaze and focused on the four-poster bed.

Isabella caught a glimpse of a scowl but could have been mistaken. Perhaps Helen was simply tired.

Anthony laced his fingers through hers. “We’ll let you rest. We’ll see you later at dinner.”

“Later, Helen.” When she left the bedroom, she could have sworn Helen had a forlorn expression on her face.