Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

“We should stop bumping into each other like this, Bella.”

Henry’s words had Isabella’s face instantly blushing. She thought he was making fun of her. Wherever she seemed to go, she was always falling over, always clumsy, and many of the times they had crossed paths, she had ended up falling against him.

“We can’t all be elegant like gazelles everywhere we walk.”

She pushed herself off him. His hand dropped from her waist as he smirked, but it took Isabella a few seconds to realize her hands were still against his waistcoat-clad chest. She snatched them away quickly, causing a soft chuckle to fall from his lips.

“Why are you here, Henry?”

“Why are you escaping your chamber dressed like that?” he shot back, his eyes flitting downwards.

Never had Isabella felt so exposed. Her nightgown left little to the imagination, and her chemise reached just past her knees. It was cinched at the waist, highlighting her curves.

“I do not have to answer you,” she muttered fast. “I may have sworn to obey you in that church today, but you should know, it’s not a vow I intend to keep.”

“No?” He raised his eyebrow. “I can imagine a situation where it would be rather fun to give you orders. Playful orders, not strict ones.”

“Oh! Back to the flirtation?” She moved her hands to her hips in surprise. “This man has been missing today, has he not?” She nodded her head at him. “The last time I saw him was at the ball standing in the garden half undressed.”

“He doesn’t always make an appearance,” Henry said simply, still with that insufferable smile in place.

It is unbearable, that smile!

Yet at the same time, her eyes lingered on it, for part of her liked it.

“Where are you going?” he asked again. “Were you coming to find my chamber?”

“You think I was going to try and persuade you out of your resolution not to bed me? Arrogant man indeed.” Isabella folded her arms across her chest. She had merely been restless, unable to sleep, and was looking for a distraction. Lying down in bed, she had stayed awake thanks to thoughts of what it could be like if Henry visited her. “I was simply going to take a turn around the house. I thought everyone had retired for the night.”

“And who takes a turn dressed like this?” Henry moved the candle down and up, lighting her figure in the thin white silk material even more. She grabbed hold of the candlestick and purposefully lifted it higher so it did not reveal her figure so much. “You like to take control, Bella.”

“I am not fond of being out of control.”

“Intriguing, indeed.”

She didn’t know what he meant, nor what that lopsided smile now hinted at. It suggested he was thinking things, and part of her longed to know what they were.

“What are you thinking?” she asked slowly.

Henry closed his eyes and lifted his head, purposefully tearing his gaze from her.

“Something tells me you would not be glad to know my thoughts.”

“I asked, did I not?”

“Well, unless you wanted to hear of what a rake thinks in the darkest hours of the night, you should return to your chamber, Bella.” He opened one eye, looking at her again. There was something in his words that sent a shiver up her spine, one of excitement. “Return,” he repeated.

“Not until you tell me why you are standing here?” she asked, raising her chin. “You can hardly say you just happened to be passing my chamber, can you? Mrs. Walters gave me a full tour of the house. Your chamber is far away from mine. Yes, another thing, how come you seem to have put me in the chamber that’s furthest from yours in this entire house?”

“You have to ask?” He quirked one eyebrow before leaning towards her an inch. “To make us both resist temptation.”

“Temptation?” She laughed, scoffing at the idea. “You think I’m tempted by you, Your Grace?”

“Henry,” he corrected her, his voice firmer now.

“I’m not.” She folded her arms once more, using them as a barrier between them.

I will not be attracted to him. I refuse to allow myself to be!

She tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks and across her chest, as well as the warmth that was spreading between her legs. She’d heard of what happened between men and women, she knew well enough what passed, but she hadn’t thought the mere anticipation of it could have such an effect on her body. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and she felt heated, despite standing only in her nightgown.

“You are not tempted at all? Do not deny it.”

He stepped towards her, and she backed up and flattened herself against the door. She could have reached behind her and turned the door handle to retreat inside her room, yet she didn’t. She stayed flat against the door with Henry standing in front of her, inching his head closer to hers. “We talked before of your reaction when you fell on top of me in that garden. You did not move off right away.”

“It was shock. That was all,” Isabella insisted, her voice deep. Yet, when her eyes flicked down to his lips, he smiled, showing he had seen it all. She closed her eyes firmly. “Why are you talking like this when you have already told me you will not bed me? What do you stand to gain from such conversations as this?”

“Amusement.” His chuckle had her eyes shooting open.

He toys with me only. That is cruel.

“Let us be honest with one another, Bella.”

His use of his new name for her had her wriggling against the door. She couldn’t explain why she liked it so much. It made her feel like another woman entirely, a married woman free from home and the family she had grown up in. She felt someone new…

“We may not bed one another, but we’d be fools to deny there’s an attraction here, isn’t there?”

“I deny it. Full-heartedly.” She tilted her chin up again defiantly.

“Oh, truly? Not attracted at all?”

“I’d rather kiss a toad,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Let me find that toad and see which of us you’d rather kiss then.”

He moved closer towards her, his lips hovering over hers. The movement was so sudden that her hands reached out to the door behind her. She still could have taken hold of that handle, but she didn’t. Her palms flattened against the door, and she held herself still.

They both breathed in short, stuttered gasps as they held themselves close to one another. Henry’s lips were a mere hair’s breadth from hers.

“So near,” he murmured, “yet so far.”

“What does that mean?”

She could have sworn for a second that she caught the scent of alcohol on his breath. It would have certainly explained his sudden return to this boldness and flirtation, when all day he had been completely cold to her.

“Let us agree, Bella, there’s attraction, but there will be no satisfaction. We will not lie to one another on that score.”

When his lips brushed her cheek, her breath hitched.

No satisfaction…

She swallowed uncomfortably, too tempted by the idea.

He backed up instantly, increasing the distance between them. He took his candle with him so he was bathed more in the orange glow than she was.

“Return to your chamber,” he begged with a quick wave of his hand. “Let us not find one another outside at night again if we are to keep to my vow.”

“You’re clearly tempted not to keep to it.”

At her words, he hesitated, his eyes flicking up from the candle flame to meet her gaze.

“Very tempted,” he said, his voice deepening. “Yet, I remember how you flinched earlier today as well.”

She had flinched. She could remember it all too easily. All through their wedding ceremony, she had feared that a rake would want satisfaction as soon as they were wed, but she was wrong. Henry was not what she had thought him to be at all.

“Goodnight, Bella.” He nodded his head towards the door again.

“Goodnight, Henry.”

When her voice deepened with saying his name, his head flicked a little higher, but he said nothing.

With a flailing hand, she reached for the door handle behind her and pushed the door open, stepping back inside. She didn’t even look at Henry when she closed it, yet she leaned against it and turned the lock hurriedly.

What did any of that mean?

She had no answer to her question, but a few seconds later, she heard the floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walked away.

* * *

“What do you think, Mrs. Walters?” Isabella held out one of the wallpaper samples that the housekeeper had been so kind to prepare for her that morning. “I’m fond of the color.” The paper was a soft duck egg blue. “But I’m not sure if it is too fussy. What do you think?”

Mrs. Walters smiled widely and placed a hand on her chest, as if in shock.

“You wish to know my opinion, Your Grace?”

“Of course, I would value it.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Walters’ smile seemed ever fixed in place as she took the sample. “I think it very fine indeed. When it is up on the wall, it will not seem too fussy or busy, I think.”

“Yes, I believe you could be right.” Isabella took the sample and held it up against the wall.

She was standing in her favorite room of her new home, a much smaller drawing room. She preferred it to the large parlor and the grand hall, but it felt cold and needed some redecorating. Mrs. Walters had been happy to assist her, and what had passed between them was a very pleasant morning indeed discussing the particulars.

This is what I need. A chance to distract myself from what occurred last night with Henry.

She could still picture the intense way his blue eyes had stared at her before she had retreated into her chamber.

A distant bell rang in the house, announcing someone’s arrival. A minute or so later, the door was opened.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Hawkins,” Isabella said as the butler stepped inside. It took her a minute to realize something was wrong. The butler was wringing his hands, and his face was turning red. “What is wrong?”

“There is a gentleman here who insists on seeing you, Your Grace. He says he is your father, yet he—”

Poor Mr. Hawkins was pushed to the side as Lord Sinclair appeared in the room.

“Father!” Isabella snapped. She turned to Mrs. Walters and took her arm. “Mrs. Walters, would you assist Mr. Hawkins, please? Tell him I am sorry for any injury caused.”

Mr. Hawkins recovered from where he had been flung against the doorframe, and Mrs. Walters ushered him away.

“I shall bring tea too, your Grace,” Mrs. Walters called.

“Yes, thank you.”

Isabella turned her focus on her father. Andrew was now pacing the room, with a cane gripped so tightly in his hand she thought he might break it. He did not hold the cane for any use, but for fashion alone, though she thought it made him look older than he was. She waited for the door to close behind the staff before she spoke.

“No wonder my new butler doubted you were whom you say you are. You stride into this house as if it is your own.”

Andrew turned to face her. His head had been flicking back and forth as he admired the room, though his eyes flashed with anger as they settled on her at last.

“I have not heard from you yet.” He shook his head.

“I have only been gone a day.”

“A day is all that’s needed.” He stepped towards her, his heavy features looking even more tired than they had done the day before. He hurriedly pushed his greying hair back from his temple. “Do you have no duty, Isabella? No sense of doing right by your family?”

“I do not understand you.” Flummoxed, Isabella sat back in her seat and brought forwards all the samples she had been looking at. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Money!”

At Andrew’s booming voice, she stilled, with the samples on her lap.

I will give him none.

“Any loyal daughter would recognize the situation her father is in. Now she is married, with a wealthy husband indeed, you would think she could muster it in herself to make use of him.”

“Do not talk about my husband in that manner.” Her voice was sharp, though she still didn’t look up from the fabrics. A strange protective tone took over her voice, one she only used when speaking about Irene or Susan.

“Isabella, do you not understand what is afoot?” Andrew shoved her samples out of the way, tossing them to the floor.

“Father!” she gasped.

Isabella tried to pick them back up again, but she and her father ended up tussling over the duck egg blue wallpaper sample she had been admiring with Mrs. Walters. They both tugged so hard on it that the sinews of their wrists turned white.

“I am in need of money,” Andrew hissed.

“To pay off your gambling debts? Or your courtesans?” Her sneer was plain and made him lean backwards. “Either way, you can hardly expect me to pay for them. I will not do it.” She held his stare, wanting him to know the truth. “I have already decided I will apportion my money to Irene and Susan. It will go towards their dowries, but not to you.”

“This is serious.” Lord Sinclair said firmly. “I am in trouble. If I do not pay my creditors soon, then they… they threaten violence against me.”

Isabella did not believe him. The hesitation was enough to persuade her he needed an extra second to think of some sort of emotional blackmail against her.

“Oh, really?” she said, pretending shock. She tried her best to retrieve the sample, yet he snatched it from her completely. “Give that back.”

“It is time you helped your family.” Andrew stood to his feet, still gripping the paper. “I am coming to you out of desperation. Do you not understand I would go anywhere else if I could?”

“Strangely, I do not believe you would, no.”

Isabella had no confidence in her father’s good heart. She could only think of the way his eyes had lit up once he had understood she was to marry the Duke of Sutterton.

“You will not help me at all?” he asked, wide-eyed. “You would cast your father out into the street. Even worse, you would put him into debtors’ prison.”

“Emotional blackmail again,” she murmured to herself and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

But he showed no sign of having heard her.

“You must help me, Isabella. Now you are married, you are in a position to do so. I have such debts that if they are not paid off, they will hurt me. You can guarantee that will not happen. Do you want your old man walking around on crutches for the rest of his life?” Lord Sinclair pleaded.

“You walk with a cane,” she reminded him. He tossed the cane to the side, showing it was a fashion statement only. “If you are so in need of money, Father, why do you buy such useless things of fashion as that stick?”

“Isabella, you are not listening to me!” he bellowed. “Do you want your father to go to debtors’ prison?”

“Father.” Slowly, she moved to her feet. She matched him in height, so she was able to glare at him. “You are the one who has put yourself at risk of prison, not I.”

His reaction was sudden. He tore the sample in his hands in two.

“What are you doing?” she asked and tried to pick up the two scraps from the floor, but he kicked them out of the way.

“Reminding you what it’s like to see your life disappear before your eyes.”

“It’s a sample, hardly something of great worth.”

“I cannot understand you.” Andrew backed up, heading for the door. He was so angry at her that his face had turned puce. “May you be judged forever for refusing to help your father.”

“You could have helped yourself a hundred times by now,” she pointed out. “How many times have you fallen into debt? How many times do you continue to gamble regardless? I saw you borrow money from our family only to lose it all at the gambling dens instead of paying off what debt you did owe. Why would I help such a man who could not be trusted a single shilling?”

Her father didn’t answer but thrust the palm of his hand against the nearest chair. That chair tottered backwards and made a loud thud that echoed throughout the house.

“Father!”

Lord Sinclair stormed out of the drawing room, like a petulant child who had not gotten his way. He scurried down the hall, with Isabella hot on his heels.

“You cannot treat a house that is not your own in such a way.”

Yet, her words fell on deaf ears. She followed him all the way to the front door, which he flung open. He hesitated enough to look back at her.

“You are no daughter of mine, are you?” he said derisively, looking down his nose at her. “A true loving daughter would help.”

“A loving father would not ask his daughter for help in a mess of his own making.”

For a brief second, Isabella was afraid. She saw her father’s hand curl at his side as if he was tempted to strike her, then he was gone. He flew out of the house and banged the door shut behind him.

Breathing heavily, Isabella backed up from the door.

Surely, he would not have struck me, would he?

Shaking a little, she placed a hand on her stomach, breathing once deeply, and turned on her heel. She was about to return to the drawing room when she found someone in the way, standing in the hall and staring at her.

Henry was there.

“How much did you hear?” she whispered.