Chapter 15

CHAPTER15

“Ah, so near,” Henry whispered to Isabella as he backed up from her.

He’d been overcome with desire at that moment and his need for Isabella. To fully make her his wife had been so great a temptation, and had she given him that single kiss he was begging for, he might not have been able to hold back.

“Your Grace?” Hawkins called again behind the door.

“What is it?” Henry asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

His eyes were still on Isabella, watching as her chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths. She hadn’t once taken her eyes off him, and he found he loved that look.

Just keep looking at me in that way, Bella.

“You have a visitor, Your Grace. She is most eager to see you. It is the Marchioness of Paulbridge.”

Henry turned his eyes to the door in surprise. The words had broken the spell Isabella had on him.

“Who is that?” Isabella asked softly.

“You saw her at our wedding,” Henry answered in a rush as he returned to the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head. “She was sitting on my side of the pews. She is an old friend.”

“I see.”

“Thank you, Hawkins, tell her we’ll be down momentarily,” Henry called to his butler.

“Will do, Your Grace.”

As soon as the footsteps had receded from the door, Henry took the opportunity of being alone with Isabella again. After tucking his shirt into his trousers, he pulled on his waistcoat and walked towards her. She still hadn’t moved away from the wall.

“If only we hadn’t been interrupted,” he said with mischief, then winked.

Her lips flickered into a smile, then she stepped away from the wall, at last.

“Don’t tease me now,” she said. “You have a visitor.”

“We do. She has probably called to congratulate us on the wedding.”

Henry hurried to finish getting changed, and Isabella stood there beside him the entire time. He found he liked her eyes on him. It was full of promises of what more could be shared between them.

“As you have watched me change, does that mean I get to see you do the same sometime?” he asked playfully.

In answer, she rolled her eyes and turned her back, heading for the door. He chuckled warmly as he followed her. Despite her wit at times and her resistance towards him, she had nearly melted then, as much as he had done.

There could be something passionate here if we both just indulged.

They strode out of the door together and hurried down the stairs. When Henry’s eyes fell on Lady Paulbridge in the hallway, he smiled at once. She was a good friend, and they had known each other for so long that they knew each other’s quirks through and through, as well as each other’s demons.

Lady Paulbridge knew about his difficulties with his father, and he knew about her need to be admired, which was plain to see in how she dealt with everyone, especially since her marriage to the Marquess of Paulbridge.

“Mary?” Henry called to her as he stepped off the staircase.

“Henry!” She turned and smiled sweetly.

Mary’s fair hair was swept back in an elaborate coif, and her blue eyes were bold. The narrow cheekbones and softly pointed chin announced her beauty easily. She did not quite have the striking beauty that Isabella had, the one that Henry found himself glancing back at now. Mary had more of a sweet face, one that some men coveted.

“It is so good to see you again, Henry.”

Mary didn’t bother curtseying, as they had known each other for so long they didn’t bother with such formalities. She strode towards him, meeting him in the middle of the room and clasping his hand instead.

“It is good to see you too.” He went to release her hand, but she didn’t let go of it straight away.

Startled, he stood there staring at her for a beat.

“Ahem.” Isabella’s forced cough had him dropping Mary’s hand in an instant.

“You will have seen my wife at our wedding,” Henry said, happily turning to Isabella, who had a rather forced smile in place, one that was very unnatural.

To see her smile again as she did moments ago!

Henry found he resented Mary’s arrival, despite their friendship. He would have happily spent more time alone with his wife.

“Allow me now to introduce you properly. My wife, Isabella, the Duchess of Sutterton. Bella, this is my good friend of many years, Mary, the Marchioness of Paulbridge.” Henry gestured between the two of them.

Isabella offered a deep curtsy, despite her superior station, and Mary curtsied in return.

“I’m delighted to meet you properly at last,” Mary said. “To meet the woman who has made dear Henry settle down. You are quite a miracle worker, Your Grace!”

The praise made Henry uncomfortable. He pulled at his cravat and looked at his wife.

“Hmm, a miracle indeed,” Isabella murmured with sarcasm, though Henry seemed to be the only one aware of her sardonic tone.

He shared a playful look with her, as Mary continued.

“I had to come and congratulate you both properly now that you have settled into your marriage.” Mary gestured towards the door to the sitting room and walked inside. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked your butler to prepare some tea for us.”

“Of course not,” Henry said and followed her. He only took one step before Isabella took his arm and wrenched him back. “Something wrong?” he whispered to her.

“She has made herself quite at home, hasn’t she?” Isabella muttered under her breath, nodding her head at where Mary had disappeared into their sitting room.

“She’s an old friend.” Henry shrugged, not thinking anything of it.

“Oh, dear! Henry!” Mary called from inside the room. “You are making changes, I see. What possessed you to choose this color?”

Isabella’s lips tightened together, and she raised a single eyebrow.

“I didn’t say she was the politest of friends,” Henry said in a rush and threaded Isabella’s arm through his. “Trust me. When you get to know her better, you’ll see she can be a good friend to you too.” He drew his wife into the sitting room.

“What cloud are you living on?” Isabella murmured before they had to fall quiet in their conversation.

Mary was gesturing around the sitting room to where Isabella’s changes had already been made. Some of the footmen had put up the new duck egg blue wallpaper, and new chairs had been covered in soft whites and creams to compliment the look. On nearby tables, there were tablecloths rimmed in blue and white.

“Gosh, what color it is,” Mary said with a giggle, then covered her eyes. “I’m almost blinded.”

“I like the changes,” Henry stated and released Isabella. She seemed rather keen to get away from him to his dismay, as she sat down in a nearby chair. “It was too drab before.” He felt it was the truth.

His father had kept this room dark, but Isabella had brought light and color into it.

It feels much cozier now than it ever did before.

“Well, I suppose one can get used to it.” Mary waved off her previous words and sat down on a settee opposite Isabella. As a tea tray was brought in, both ladies reached forwards at once to serve tea. “Oh heavens! What must you think of me.” Mary giggled in that childish way of hers. “I was so used to taking on the role of being a hostess in this house when I came to visit that it felt quite natural to do the same now.”

“Hostess?” Isabella murmured, firmly taking hold of the teapot and pouring three cups of tea. “Your friendship has been a long and… close one then?” She looked at Henry with the words.

She suspects it’s more.

“Long,” Henry said simply and sat down beside Isabella in another armchair. He’d put himself between them, and Mary used that opportunity to reach out and tap his knee.

He thought nothing of it at first. How many times had Mary offered such informal touches in the past? It was the way they were.

“He’s being modest,” Mary said sweetly. “He’s been a kind friend to me. For all your rakish ways, Henry,” she whispered, then gasped as if his reputation was a great horror. “You have always treated me differently to other ladies, have you not?”

“Have I?” he asked with a little sarcasm, though Isabella managed to outdo him with her own.

“What a surprise,” Isabella drawled and pushed his teacup into his hands. He had to catch it in a kerfuffle so he did not spill it.

“I am so glad to see you again,” Mary said, leaning towards him. “It is so long since we have talked openly for a good deal of time. I have nowhere to be today. I hope you will allow me to stay for a while so that we may talk a good deal?”

“Of course,” Henry said automatically.

“The surprises keep on coming,” Isabella muttered sardonically.

Henry was the only one who noticed, and Mary continued rattling on as if the Duchess hadn’t spoken at all.

* * *

Isabella was reeling as she stared at Henry and Mary at the other side of the table. Forced to sit at the foot of the table, as they had guests, the sheer length of the mahogany wood between them separated her a long way from her husband. Mary had opted to sit beside Henry. With every conversation they had, every laugh, Mary seemed to tip herself more towards Henry.

She’ll be in his lap in a minute.

“More wine, Your Grace?” Hawkins asked with a kind tone as he approached her side.

Isabella looked up at the butler through the orange candlelight, seeing he was smiling softly at her.

“Yes, indeed, Hawkins. You have read my exact thoughts.”

He refilled her glass, his smile growing for a few seconds before he retreated into the shadows of the room.

Mary had stayed for many hours, and for dinner too. Isabella looked at the clock repeatedly and wondered when this lady would leave, but she showed no signs of intending to depart. There was also no sign of Isabella and Henry returning to that intense moment they had shared in his chamber earlier that day.

It’s as if that Henry is gone.

Isabella stared at the man sitting at the head of the table. He was so busy laughing at a joke Mary had made, it was as if she didn’t recognize him. It was hardly the first time Isabella had thought him more than one man and presumed that she didn’t really know him well at all.

“Did we not have fun, Henry?” Mary asked, leaning towards Henry across the table.

The Marchioness laid her hand on his wrist in the most intimate of touches. That simple brush of her fingers made Isabella nearly choke on her wine. She coughed a little until Hawkins appeared at her side and offered a handkerchief.

“Th—Thank you,” she stammered through her cough and wiped her lips with the cloths.

“Yes, well, you did always enjoy your riding,” Henry agreed before nodding his head at Isabella. “You’re a fine rider yourself, Bella, are you not? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else with your skill.”

“I didn’t think you had noticed,” she said, earning an amused smile from him.

He seems much more concerned with noticing Mary this evening.

“She is a fine rider?” Mary asked in plain surprise. She turned her beautiful blue eyes in Isabella’s direction.

Mary’s classic beauty had Isabella feeling inadequate. Repeatedly, the Duchess glanced down at the silver gown she was wearing and adjusted the bodice, though it did little good.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, I’d heard you were something of a bluestocking.” Mary whispered the last word as if it was scandalous.

“I am,” Isabella said without shame. “Though what is there to be ashamed of in reading a good book?”

“Nothing at all,” Henry was quick to answer. “I saw the other day you were reading a book on the latest studies of the human mind and phrenology. What do you make of it?”

“Phrenology? I do not know, really,” Isabella said with interest. “Some of it seems of interest, then other parts just seem quite absurd.”

“I agree. The idea that the shape of a man’s head can determine his character.” Henry shook his head, baffled. “It seems quite mad.”

“It does.” Isabella smiled at him, glad they were talking once again.

Henry returned her smile, but it didn’t last long. Mary laid a hand over his wrist and redirected his attention towards her.

“Do you remember when we last went riding together?”

Mary started speaking about one of their adventures out riding, and Isabella’s mind wandered.

She thought of the day she and Henry had gone riding and they’d both ended up in the river. The proximity between them that day, the heat of his touches, had left her a quivering mess. Yet, there had been more to that day than just the tension. There had been happiness and laughter.

It would have been easy to mistake us for a truly happily married couple, as if we had chosen one another.

“Oh, I long for another of those rides. I’m sure your wife could spare you one of these days, could she not?” Mary looked at Isabella, then didn’t even wait for an answer. “I’m sure she could.”

Isabella felt like a fly on the wall. Not only did she not matter to Mary, but Henry barely looked at her now. He was staring at Mary.

Am I so blind a fool?

When Mary laid a hand on his wrist, he didn’t push it away.

“God’s wounds,” Isabella murmured under her breath and stood to her feet, moving back her chair so suddenly that Hawkins jumped forwards to help her with it. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“Bella? Is everything all right?” Henry called to her from the head of the table.

“I’ve had quite enough of dinner tonight.” Isabella looked between him and the woman she now presumed was one of his many mistresses. “If you would excuse me.” She stepped away, heading for the door.

“I am so sorry, Henry,” Mary said in a rush to Henry. “I hope my presence has not made matters awkward for your wife.” Her words had Isabella stalling in the doorway.

It is as if she is flaunting the hold she has on Henry in front of me.

“Enjoy your evening,” Isabella called to the two of them and strode out, letting the door close firmly behind her.