Chapter 24

Arthur lay awake feeling positively sick with regret.

How had he allowed things to go so wrong? He hadn’t meant today to go the way it had at all. He had wanted to ensure that Isabella had a good time—but that hadn’t happened. Or rather, it clearly had, but then he had immediately ruined it for her. And why? Because he couldn’t control his own jealousy. How humiliating that was for him.

And on the ride home, she had certainly implied that he was seeing other women. She had compared the fact that he left her home alone every day to the fact that she had spent tonight dancing with other gentlemen. She couldn’t really believe that he would do something like that, could she? She must have been speaking out of anger. It was the only way he could make sense of things.

Sleep refused to come. Eventually, he got out of bed and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Perhaps that would help him relax, and then he would be able to settle his mind.

But when he got to the kitchen, he was met with a surprise—she was already there.

She looked up at the sight of him, and for a moment, he just looked back. Why did they have to keep crossing paths at night? There was something so alluring about her with her hair loose around her shoulders and her nightclothes on. It was enough to make him forget all about the way they had quarreled on the way home.

And then he remembered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “Shall I leave you in peace?”

“It’s your kitchen,” she told him. “Maybe I should be the one to go.”

“No,” he told her. “You live here. This is your kitchen every bit as much as it is mine, Isabella. You don’t have to go any more than I do.”

“There’s room enough for both of us, I suppose,” she said. “I was just making some tea.”

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” he pointed out. “The staff will prepare it for you. They’ll even bring it to your room if you’d like.”

“I’m not too good to make my own tea,” she replied. “I did it all the time when I was living with my father. I can do it here.”

Indeed, she could—he saw that the tea was already prepared. She poured two cups and placed one on the table in front of him. He nodded his thanks and took a sip. It was hot and soothing, and it really did feel like exactly what he had needed tonight.

“Listen,” he said, “I owe you an apology.”

She didn’t deny it. She turned to face him, and he was nearly undone by the sight of her eyes on him. Why did it have to be so late at night every time they met like this? Why did it always feel as though the walls between them had fallen down? It would have been so much easier to talk during the day when he felt capable of holding her at arm’s length. But then, he realized, he had spoken to her during the day—that was what had led to their fight in the first place. And it wasn’t exactly something he was feeling good about.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “The way I spoke to you in the carriage—I shouldn’t have done that. You were completely right. You were well within the bounds of reasonable conduct at the ball—of course, you wanted to dance with gentlemen and enjoy yourself. I should have expected it. I did expect it.”

“Then why did it upset you so much if you knew that it was going to happen?”

“I don’t know if I can explain that.”

“Try,” she said.

He blinked.

“You’re the one apologizing to me here,” she pointed out. “You’re the one who wants forgiveness and for the two of us to move on. If that’s what you want, I need more than for you to say I’m sorry.”

“What do you need?” he asked. He couldn’t help feeling slightly mesmerized by her—by how powerful she was, by how strongly she was speaking up for what she wanted. He had known this about her, but even so, it always impressed him to see it. It was unlike any lady he had ever known, the way she understood herself so well.

Her father must have hated it, he thought. But as for Arthur himself, he found it admirable.

“I want to know where you go every day,” she said. “I want to know what all the secrecy is for.”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I respect your willingness to ask, but a gentlemen needs his own secrets.”

She scoffed. “Of course, he does.”

“Isabella,” he said quietly, “I’m not having an affair.”

“That’s just what you would say if you were.”

“Perhaps. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never done such a thing. I never would. I wish I knew why you had that idea.”

“You don’t know why?” She laughed.

“All right,” he conceded. “Perhaps I do.”

“Arthur, you were jealous because I danced with another man in plain view of you and made no secret at all of it. Don’t stand here and act as if jealousy is a feeling you can’t understand—as if it’s beneath you somehow. I know better.”

“All right,” Arthur agreed. “But be that as it may, what I’m telling you now is the truth. I’m not seeing anybody else. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“I respect you,” he countered. “Do you really doubt that?”

She hesitated. “I suppose it’s easier to believe in that than it is to believe that you actually care.”

“I do respect you,” he told her firmly. “You are my wife. That means something to me.”

“I’ve never been able to figure out what it means to you, though.”

“A gentleman ought to honor his wife,” Arthur said firmly. “I would never go behind your back in the manner you’re suggesting. I simply couldn’t do it.”

Isabella nodded slowly, and he saw her face relax slightly, as if she believed him. “Then what is it?” she asked. “If you’re not meeting a mistress, where do you go every day, and why am I forbidden to ask you any questions about it?”

He sighed. What could he say to her? It was clear that she was unwilling to let this go the way he had hoped she would. She wanted an answer.

Maybe she ought to have one. He couldn’t tell her everything, of course, but maybe he could tell her some of it. Maybe if he let her in a little bit, she would at least be comfortable in the knowledge that his actions were not a betrayal of her.

“I’m looking for something,” he told her. “That’s why I go out every day. There’s something I need to find.”

“All right,” she agreed. “What is it you’re looking for?”

He shook his head. “That I can’t tell you,” he said.

“Of course, you can’t.”

“I really can’t,” he said. “I need you to trust me, at least somewhat. I’m telling you as much as I can because I realize how frustrating it’s been for you to be kept in the dark. But there are some things I must keep to myself. I can’t tell you every detail. Let it be enough for you to know that I’m conducting a search for something, and I don’t know how close I am to finding it. But until I do, I’m afraid that a great deal of my energy must be devoted to the search. It’s something I can’t allow myself to turn my back on.”

“Are you saying there will come a time when this search of yours will be over?” Isabella asked. “And things will change?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I certainly hope so. It isn’t something I can promise to you. But all the work I’m doing is in hopes that I can bring my search to an end and that I’ll no longer have to worry about any of the things that keep me so occupied right now.”

“This is why you don’t want me to go into your office, isn’t it?” Isabella asked. “There’s something you don’t want me to know about. Something you don’t want me to see.”

“Something I wish to keep to myself,” Arthur confirmed. “It’s not that I have any desire to keep secrets from you, Isabella. It’s just that some things must be managed privately. It will do neither of us any good for you to know all the details. I know you feel as if you’d like to know more, but I have to ask you to trust me in this.”

Isabella hesitated. “I would like to trust you,” she said. “I would like to believe that things are as simple as you say they are—that you’re taking care of something I simply don’t need to know anything about. But it’s difficult to do that when the rules keep changing, and our lives are so full of secrets. Where’s the foundation for trust? What can I possibly hold on to? Nothing is constant.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he agreed. “And yet…I do have to ask for your trust. It’s all I can do.”

Isabella nodded slowly.

“You will trust me?”

“I’ll try. For now, I’ll try.”

Arthur sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it. And do you believe me, at least, that I’m not having an affair?”

“Yes, that I believe,” she said readily, and he was surprised by how relieved he felt to hear her say it. He hadn’t known until this moment how unhappy it was making him to think that she could suspect him of such a thing. “It never did seem like the sort of thing you would do,” she added. “It never seemed like your character. I suppose I suspected you because I know gentlemen can be that way to the ladies in their lives—I mean, just look at my father. He never married my mother even though she gave him two children, and when she died, it was only by a miracle that we had anywhere to go at all. I’m sure he would have been just as happy to be rid of us—send us off to an orphanage or even into the streets to make our own way. He didn’t care.”

Arthur nodded. When she put it that way, it was easy to see why she would find it challenging to simply trust anyone. “You know that I would never do anything like that,” he said. “I would never turn you out. I would never allow anything bad to happen to you. You’re my wife, and that’s something I take very seriously. I’ll always look after you, no matter what.”

“I know,” Isabella said quietly. “I understand that, Arthur.”

“Good.”

“I have another question.”

“You may as well ask it since we’re getting everything said tonight,” he told her. “I wouldn’t want you to walk away with anything lingering on your mind.”

She nodded. “You may not like it.”

“That doesn’t appear to have stopped you up until now.”

Isabella smiled slightly. “All right,” she said. “My question is—the attic. You’ve told me I can’t go up there. You don’t permit any of the staff to go up there. It does make it seem as though you’re hiding something very serious. And I want to trust you. But I can’t stop asking myself—what could be in the attic if it’s so important for everyone to stay away?”

Arthur nodded. He had been a fool to think he could avoid this forever.

“Come on,” he said, putting his tea down. “I’ll show you.”