Page 64 of Her Beast of a Duke

Isabella blushed.

She nodded, letting herself sink against him a little as he guided her back through the ballroom.

She said her swift goodbyes, much to her own heartache over not knowing when she would see her sisters anytime soon, but soon, they were back in the carriage and pulled away.

Rochdale came back into view swiftly, and she found that she had missed the sight of it. A strange relief loosened her chest as they departed and entered the castle once more.

She thought of Sibyl speaking ofhomeand what that meant. Isabella felt as though she had come back home, and that was a most peculiar thing, for she had never thought this place could be that.

Yet she felt the weight of the evening, of the whole week, truly, slip away as Oscar guided her up the stairs and to her chamber. For a minute, they both looked at the bed, but it was he who gestured for her to retire properly.

“I will be just through the door should you need anything,” he told her, already turning to leave.

“What if I need something now?” Her voice rang out through the muted silence of the room. He half turned back to her, a brow raised in question. “Stay with me. Sleep… sleep next to me, Oscar.”

Oscar hesitated, looking between her and the bed, and just when her hope rose enough to think he might have nodded, might have returned to her side, he shook his head.

“I cannot,” he told her.

And then he was gone through the connecting door, leaving her standing there, listening to the soft click and the rejection piercing her heart.

Chapter Fifteen

“You have barely spoken to me since the Fargreen’s ball.”

Isabella leaned against the doorway of Oscar’s study four days after the ball with her arms folded over her chest. It was not out of petulance, but rather a challenge. Her chin lifted right as Oscar looked up at her.

“I have been busy,” he told her. “As you can see.”

As hard as she tried not to, her eyes flicked to the desk where he had pleasured her. She looked away quickly when he followed her gaze. He cleared his throat.

“What is the matter?” he asked. “You must have disturbed me for a reason.”

Isabella scoffed. “Is this how we shall be?” Her hard voice covered up the hurt she had been feeling during his distance. “Close one moment, separated the next.”

“I am not so keenly aware of such things,” he said. “When I have to attend social events, I must find the time to catch up on work.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, not believing it was only that. “So, you are not avoiding me because we danced together?”

His shoulders tightened before he could compose himself quickly enough, and she knew she was right. Mary may have been right then, noting how he had looked at her as though he cared.

Was he scared to feel such a thing for the wife he had only ever intended to be transactional?

“I am your wife,” she reiterated. “I am not just an ornament to parade about at balls. I miss our conversations, however brief they may be. I miss… I simply miss your company.” Her lips stiffened, stubborn even as she was vulnerable, knowing he likely did not feel the same.

“I am always here,” he said. “You may seek me out.”

“Yet you look at me now as though I am the most interrupting thing,” she muttered. “And… what if I wish foryouto seekmeout, to know that I matter in your days? To have an inkling that you might crave conversation in this thick silence you somehow enjoy?”

He cocked his head at her, dropping the pen he had been writing with. “Isabella, you grew up in a very busy, full household. Idid not. Silence is what I have known, and silence does not ask anything of me. I do enjoy your company, but I cannot ask you to sit in silence while I work.”

Her mouth quirked at his admission of enjoying her company. “Do tell me what it is that you enjoy about it.”

Oscar scowled at her, but there was no true malice behind it. Something passed over his face when he looked at her smile, and Isabella felt as though the rope she had snagged hold of in him, at getting him to talk, slipped right out of her hand.

She watched as his face darkened at a thought he did not, and would not, share.

“I have to get back to work.” His voice was rough, dismissive. But then, after a moment, he said, “You may sit in here if you wish, reading or embroidering, but I will not entertain your questions.”