Chapter 27

Isabella sat on the window seat in her room and watched as Arthur’s carriage pulled away.

It had all happened so fast. The arrangements had been made so quickly that she hadn’t been able to see it happening. He must have made his plans after he had kissed her in the attic—had it really been only yesterday? He must have come right downstairs and started planning to leave her.

How distressing that was. She had left the attic and spent the night thinking about all the good things their future together might hold, and he had been planning how he was going to say goodbye. And now, she was here on her own, and who knew when he would be back?

Even when he did come back, there was no chance the two of them would be close in the way she had hoped they would be. He’d made it abundantly clear that that simply wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t dare hope for it. She had gotten her hopes up too many times now. She couldn’t afford to allow herself to get hurt again.

She thought back to what had happened just before he had left. She hadn’t intended to say goodbye to him at all. She had wanted to make him suffer for leaving her the way he was. Of course, it had occurred to her, sitting alone in her room, that he wasn’t going to suffer at all—that he would be relieved by her lack of a farewell. He didn’t want her around, so why would he want some prolonged goodbye?

But then the knock had come on her bedroom door.

She had opened the door to find him standing there. His face had been every bit as impossible to read as it had at breakfast—cold and expressionless. “You ran from the table before I could bid you farewell,” he said.

“I didn’t think you would have any interest in that,” she replied, pleased that her rebuke sounded rather sharp. “You’ve been clear that you’re not interested in me. I supposed that you would want to be on your way without worrying about me at all. After all, when have you worried about me in the past?”

A shadow crossed his face. “I know you’re only saying these things to hurt me,” he said, “and you might as well know that it’s having the desired effect.”

“You can’t fool me,” she fumed. “I know that there isn’t anything I could do to hurt you.”

His jaw clenched. He turned away for a moment, and Isabella thought he might be about to go. And she was glad of it—she didn’t like the way they were speaking to one another, and she would be glad when it was over—but she was also sorry that things between them were ending on such a sour note. After all, it could be months before they saw one another again, and this conversation would be the last thing she had to think about. In a way, she wished that he had left yesterday, right after their kiss, without any explanation and without letting her know what he was doing. She thought it might have been easier. At least then she could have lied to herself, allowed herself to go on believing there was a chance he might care.

Now, she knew that he didn’t. He never had.

But when he turned back to her, she was surprised all over again. There was a softness in his eyes. It was surprise, more than anything, that prevented her from pulling away when he reached out and took her hand. She was still angry with him, but she felt something more as well.

He kissed the back of her hand. It was soft and gentle and over almost as soon as it began, but he lingered for a moment, his eyes on her face, and Isabella felt the breath leave her lungs.

“I’m doing this for your own good, you know,” he said.

“I don’t even know what that means,” she retorted. “I think it’s just something you’re telling yourself because you wish it was the truth. Because you wish there was something noble about what you’re doing here. But there isn’t. You’re nothing but a coward. If you had any nobility to you, you would stay.”

Then he let her go. “Farewell,” he said quietly.

He was out the door again in a heartbeat, and it took several minutes for Isabella to recover her anger—to remember, indeed, that she had been angry at all. He could turn her mind from any thoughts she might be having so easily with the briefest touch. He could make her forget that she had been upset with him. Maybe it was for the best that he was going away. It was clear that she would never be able to keep her heart in line while he was in the house. So it was probably for the best that he wasn’t going to be here.

That was what she had told herself then. Now that he had been gone for a bit longer—it had been half an hour since he had left her room—she was less sure she had been right. Surely, she would have learned eventually to be in his presence without her knees growing weak? Surely, he would eventually have learned to be around her without kissing her all the time?

Maybe.

Maybe that was why he was leaving. Maybe he hated the fact that he kept giving in to that particular weakness. Maybe he was going away because the temptation of living in a house with a lady he didn’t want to touch was simply too great for him.

Very well, then, let him go! I don’t need him here anyway.

How she wished she could convince herself that it was true.

Caroline bustled about the room, tidying things up. “I’m awfully sorry if I’m in your way, Your Grace,” she apologized. “Would you like me to go away and come back later for this?”

“That’s not necessary,” Isabella said. “You don’t need to do anything for me today, Caroline. I think I’d like to spend the day alone in my room.”

Caroline hesitated. “May I speak, Your Grace?”

“Of course, you may,” Isabella said. “I’ve worked as a maid myself, Caroline. I would never dream of treating my servants as if they were less than myself. It’s only by a fluke of my parentage that I’m a duchess instead of a servant. I could just as easily have found myself in your shoes. So, by all means, say whatever you would like to me.”

Caroline nodded. “I simply wanted to say that it might not be the best thing for you to seclude yourself as you are,” she observed. “With the Duke away, I know that you must feel very lonely. Perhaps it would be better for you to arrange to have some company.”

Isabella buried her face in her hands. “I couldn’t bear it,” she admitted. “I couldn’t bear to have anyone see what’s become of me. To know that my husband isn’t even here—that he didn’t even want to stay. It’s humiliating.”

“You’d hardly be the first lady whose husband has gone away on business,” Caroline soothed her. “I’m sure no one would judge you or think poorly of you.”

“Oh, they would,” Isabella countered. “You must know how cruel the gossip can be among members of the ton. They’d make up something that’s worse even than the truth, and the story would spread around. No, even if I didn’t feel like secluding myself—and I do—I wouldn’t be able to face anyone right now. It would be too embarrassing.”

“And what of your sister?” Caroline asked. “She could be sent for. I know that she is your dearest friend. She would never assume anything about you, and she certainly wouldn’t spread gossip, would she? She would listen to what you had to say about the circumstances, and she would be on your side no matter what the situation. Isn’t that so?”

“I suppose it is,” Isabella agreed.

“Then shall I send for her?”

“No.” Tears came to her eyes at the realization that she couldn’t even turn to her sister anymore. “I wouldn’t be able to face her, Caroline. The only thing Felicity wants is to know that I’m happy in my marriage—that I didn’t put myself in a bad situation for her sake. If she saw me like this, alone and unhappy, she would feel so guilty. I couldn’t let that happen. So now, my husband’s actions have driven a wedge between me and my sister as well. And yet, even now, I can’t regret marrying him—how could I? He’s going to provide for her future, and in spite of my own unhappiness, that’s the only thing I really want.”

“You’re a very good sister,” Caroline said gently. “I do wish I’d had a sister like you myself, Your Grace. My life might have been very different if I had.”

“What do you mean?” Isabella asked, momentarily distracted from her own heartache. “You’re treated well here, aren’t you?”

“Very well. And I couldn’t be any happier than I am to have my position here at Windhill Manor, so please don’t mistake me,” Caroline replied. “I’m very happy now. But you forget that I was only hired as your lady’s maid a short time ago. Before that, I worked as a scullery maid in a household where I wasn’t treated nearly as well as I am here. If I’d had family looking out for me, that might not have happened. I say your sister is very lucky to have you, and I hope you take pride in that fact. I hope you don’t feel ashamed because your life here doesn’t look the way you might have hoped it would.”

Isabella couldn’t help it. She felt herself begin to smile. “Caroline, I’m so lucky that I have you,” she said. “My life with the duke has been difficult, and it continues to be so. But he has given me many gifts, and one of those gifts is you. I’m so grateful for your presence in my life. You make things much easier for me here.”

“You needn’t worry, Your Grace,” Caroline assured. “I’ll be by your side, even when no one else is. When the duke is away and you don’t feel as if you can trust in other company to be here, I will be here, and you will always have a friend.”

Isabella took Caroline’s hand and squeezed it briefly. “We are friends,” she agreed. “And I truly couldn’t ask for a better one. I only wish I understood my husband better. I wish I knew why he pulls away from me every time we start to get close. If I could understand that, I might be able to make my peace with it.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Caroline said. “But I do know that he has never been close with anyone in all the time I’ve known him. Admittedly, that hasn’t been a very long time, but I speak to the other members of his staff, and they all tell me the same thing. With the exception of his friend, Lord Henrough, he associates with almost no one. It would seem that you’ve married a gentleman who keeps to himself as a rule—who is afraid to allow anyone to get close to him. I don’t believe his distance has anything to do with you personally.”

“I’d like to believe that, but I don’t know,” Isabella said. “I’d like to think that he wants me to be close to him, and he simply can’t bring himself to let me in. But it’s growing harder to believe in that idea. Every time he pushes me away, I grow more and more convinced that he means it, and that he will never want me to be a true part of his life. He could have married anyone at all. It didn’t have to be me. I was just the person who was most convenient.” She sighed. “I didn’t know it until now, I suppose, but a part of me really wanted him to love me. But I can see now that it was a hopeless dream. The harder I try, the more he runs from me. It’s never going to be what I want it to be, so I might as well give up.”