Page 23 of His Graceful Duchess (A Lady’s Vow #3)

CHAPTER 23

“ Y ou cannot avoid it forever, Penelope.”

Daphne’s gentle voice instructed the youngest Morton sibling, who only sighed dramatically in response.

“I am not avoiding anything,” she said finally, plucking at the lace on her sleeve. “I am simply… delaying.”

“Delaying?” Violet’s chuckle lightened the mood. “Is that what we are calling it now?”

“Oh, hush,” Penelope muttered. “You need not put me on the spot like this. While I appreciate the concern greatly, I do not think this is doing me any good.”

“You know as well as we do that your father will insist upon it,” Daphne continued. “It has been weeks since you last attended a ball, and still, there is no match in sight. He will not be pleased.”

Penelope grimaced but said nothing.

Isadora, who had been silent for much of the conversation, barely paid attention to what was happening around her. Her mind was elsewhere entirely. She had not intended to stay away from Evan for so long, but after their argument, she needed time to gather her thoughts and to understand exactly what she wanted.

So, she had decided to go home and stay there for a few days. Upon her arrival, her friends had decided to visit as well—and they found themselves in a park near the manor now.

“You are reluctant to enter society once again because you fear an unwanted match,” Daphne continued. “But in delaying it, you are only giving your father more time to fix you up with an even worse option. Is that not right, Isadora?”

Daphne tried to include her in the conversation—bless her—but Isadora only nodded absent-mindedly. Looking at her sister’s predicament, she could not help but be reminded of her own.

She had been the same way of course. Dreading a match and avoiding marriage altogether. It was not until she fell in love with Evan that she decided to want all that was traditionally expected from a young woman. Though now, it felt like dream she had dared to hold in her hands for a fleeting moment before Evan had crushed it beneath the weight of his own past.

She swallowed.

“You must at least make an effort,” Violet pressed, drawing Isadora from her thoughts. “Your father is hardly the patient sort.”

“That,” Penelope muttered, “is putting it lightly. I would not be surprised if he is not fixing up a match for me already.”

Isadora exhaled quietly, finally deciding to join in on the conversation.

“Perhaps Daphne and Violet make a fair point. You cannot avoid the balls forever,” she said. “Perhaps, if you go, you may find it is not so dreadful after all.”

“You—of all people—are saying this?” Penelope turned to stare at her in disbelief.

“Even I am surprised,” Daphne smirked. “Consider your disdain for such events in the past.”

“Yes, well… circumstances change,” Isadora shrugged. They had for her, quite drastically.

A thought flickered across Penelope’s face, and she leaned forward.

“Is everything all right with you, Isadora?” she asked, finally. “You have not uttered more than a few words since your arrival. I thought that coming out to the park would brighten your mood, but here you are, as moody as ever.”

Isadora raised an eyebrow. “I am in a great mood.”

At that, the three ladies exchanged a laugh.

“Really, Isadora?” Violet asked. “I did not want to be the one to bring it up, but Penelope is right. You have been sulking since I got here.”

“I believe the three of you are reading too much into things,” Isadora said, firmly. “I am simply visiting my family. Perhaps I am a bit tired from the journey. That is all.”

Penelope and Daphne exchanged a glance but did not press her further.

“Visiting your family,” Violet repeated. “Hmm.”

Daphne leaned forward slightly. “And does the Duke approve of this extended visit?”

Isadora kept her gaze trained to the ground, feeling a lump form in her throat at the mention of her husband. “I do not see why he would object. I am, after all, a married woman. I may come and go as I please.”

A pointed silence followed. Isadora knew that was not a satisfactory answer. Violet and Daphne were not fools.

“I understand that, but you have never come to stay like this on such short notice before,” Penelope said. “And you have been acting rather strangely…”

“Must there always be some grand meaning behind my actions?” Isadora snapped at her.

“Not necessarily. But it is rather peculiar that you came without much explanation,” Daphne replied.

“And that you have not spoken of him,” Violet added, “Not once, might I add.”

Isadora’s fingers tightened around the folds of her dress, and her heart began to beat faster. She was not ready yet to be confronted about him when she knew so little about what their future was to hold.

“That is not true. I have spoken of him,” she countered, trying to keep her voice even. “Just now in fact.”

“That was not speaking of him,” Daphne said flatly, raising her eyebrow. “That was avoiding speaking of him.”

“There is nothing to speak of,” she said. “He is busy, as always, tending to matters of the estate, and I thought a visit to my family would be a pleasant change of pace.”

“You have always been a dreadful liar, Isadora.” Penelope narrowed her eyes slightly, watching her sister with suspicion.

“Oh, she truly has. I cannot count how many times she tried to feign illness to avoid a ball, only to be found reading in the gardens,” Daphne chuckled to lighten the mood.

“And she is equally terrible at pretending now,” Violet nodded. “We can see right through her.”

Did nothing escape these three? Her friends had always been too perceptive for their own good. And Penelope even more so.

“You are all being dramatic,” she said with a sigh, “I am merely enjoying time with my family. And if you all wish to fill the air with baseless speculation, I shall take my leave and find someone who will actually engage in pleasant conversation.”

She made a deliberate move to walk away, but before she could, Penelope pulled her back.

“Isadora,” she said gently, “we are only worried about you.”

Penelope’s tone was laced with concern. The teasing edge had fallen away, only to be replaced with seriousness.

Isadora swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

Should I tell them of my troubles with Evan?

It was not as though she did not trust them; it was more that if she spoke, she would have to face the truth herself. That she had left not just to visit, but because she and Evan were standing on opposite sides of something that could possibly change the entire trajectory of their relationship.

So instead, she patted Penelope’s hand, offering a small smile. “You worry too much,” she murmured. “Truly. Now, please, continue on with your conversation, and I shall go and stroll on my own for a while.”

“That does not sound reassuring,” Daphne said, her forehead creasing with worry.

“Perhaps you’re right that I’ve been sulking,” Isadora admitted that much. “A walk alone will change that. I shall catch up with you ladies in a while.”

The three exchanged glances but ultimately could not keep Isadora chained to them.

“Fine,” Penelope sighed. “But hurry back sister, and return the woman whom we know you to be. It’s not every day that we get to see you, and seeing you behave like this is not fun in the slightest.”

“I will try to.” Isadora flashed her a small smile—the first genuine one of the day.

Then she pulled away, straightened her posture, and set off. For now, they had allowed it even if they hadn’t fully bought into her explanation, but Isadora knew they would not be fooled forever.

Isadora walked away from the group without direction, her steps slow and unhurried as she moved through the more unoccupied paths of the park trail. She wished to be away from watching eyes.

Usually, walks in nature had a way of soothing her like nothing else. It was her way to connect with herself again, letting the outside noise of the world fall away, but today, her thoughts were too restless.

I’ve come here to escape thinking of my husband, and yet, it is all I can manage to do.

How ridiculous.

A part of her ached at the distance that had formed between them. It had been days since they’d had a proper conversation without it turning sour. His absence gnawed at her.

“God, I should be angry at him still,” she muttered to herself, keeping her gaze firmly trained to the ground, but anger had given way to frustration, and frustration had dissolved into something far more irritating.

She missed him. Terribly.

Isadora had found herself in a truly difficult position. Staying with him was too frustrating and only reminded her of his rejection, but keeping away was proving to be just as difficult.

Isadora had lost track of the time as she walked. Lifting her head, she realized she had wandered farther than she meant to. The park trails had given way to the tree-lined edges of the back grounds where the old paths were still untamed and half-swallowed by nature.

A mild unease crept in at the stillness. She had never ventured out this far before.

“At least there is no one here to bother me,” she muttered, rubbing the side of her arms and turning to make her journey back. It would be best now to rejoin the others.

But before she could take another step, the crunch of leaves under heavy hooves startled her.

“Duchess.”

Isadora whipped around, the breath hitching in her throat. A man stepped forward on his horse from the shadows of the trees. He had a mask on, but Isadora could tell that he was quite tall. The moment her eyes landed on him, every muscle in her body went rigid.

He did not look like anyone with whom she should be crossing paths.

“I was just wondering how to get you away from your little group,” the man said to her mockingly. Isadora tried to place the voice in her mind, but her panic had jumbled her thoughts.

Isadora tried to take several steps back, knowing that this was no place for her to be. Her pulse pounded.

“Leave me alone,” she yelled out as the man began to dismount. He was moving slowly, as if he was unconcerned about catching up to her. Rightly so—there were no other people here as she had wandered out quite far.

“Why would I ever do such a treacherous thing?” the man continued.

Her mind began to reel. How quickly could she run? How far away were her family and friends?

He took a step forward.

Oh, no, no, no. Whirling on her heel, she bolted. She made it two steps before fingers clamped around her wrist.

“Unhand me. Who are you, and by what authority are you engaging with me?” She tried to fight back. The force of his hold jerked her backward, knocking her off balance. She twisted, swinging out blindly with her free hand, her nails raking down the fabric of his sleeve. It was all to no avail as he towered over her and barely even flinched.

“You will let me go.” The words came through gritted teeth, her breath sharp and uneven.

The man only chuckled.

“Oh, Duchess,” he murmured, drawing her closer, “you misunderstand. You are coming with me. Thank you for your little detour; you made my job that much easier.”

She yanked, twisting her body, desperate for leverage—but he was far stronger than she was. Her free hand shot up, aiming for his face, and then a sharp blow struck her on the head.

For a moment, all Isadora felt was a white, hot, burst of pain. Her knees buckled, and the world around her blurred into the background.

The last thing she heard was his voice, sounding awfully too pleased.

“Much easier than I expected.”

And then there was nothing.