Chapter 8

Arthur said nothing as the pair of them made their way out to the carriage. He also didn’t help Miss Isabella into it—he allowed his footman to do the job. He knew that people would be talking about the fact that they had left the party early, and he knew how antisocial it would look. He also knew that he didn’t care. He had heard the way Miss Isabella’s family had spoken about her. Why should the two of them stay there for hours among people who had nothing kind to say and who didn’t really care about them at all? It would be better to go home now.

Besides, the breakfast was over. The wedding ceremony itself was long over. All that remained was the dancing and socializing, and Arthur had no interest in any of those things.

As they pulled away, he watched Miss Isabella, wondering whether she would look back for one last glimpse of her home, but she didn’t. Instead, she gazed directly at him. Arthur was somewhat impressed by that—he would have thought she might be too intimidated to look at him so directly—but then, nothing about her behavior so far had suggested that she was intimidated by anybody at all.

“Are you sorry to be leaving?” he asked her.

Miss Isabella shrugged her shoulders. “You promised me that you would help me secure my sister’s future,” she said. “How can I be anything but glad about that, Your Grace?”

It occurred to him then that he really didn’t need to be thinking of her as Miss Isabella anymore. For one thing, it was inaccurate. As of the moment she had said her vows this morning, she had been a duchess. If he wanted to use a title for her, Your Grace was the correct one.

But she wasn’t just a duchess. She was his wife. They ought to call one another by their names.

“You can call me Arthur,” he told her.

“I didn’t realize your name was Arthur.”

“Well…it is.”

“All right,” she said. “Arthur.”

“And I’ll call you Isabella, unless you object?”

“I don’t.”

“Very well, then.” He took a breath. “Perhaps we should talk about some of the other rules of our life together before we reach Windhill Manor.”

She looked at him. “Rules?”

“Of course, there are to be rules,” he said. “I’m sure you had rules governing your behavior when you were living with your father.”

“But you aren’t my father,” she pointed out. “What kinds of rules do you intend to put in place for me, Arthur?” She stressed his name slightly, as if to make the point that he had just asked to remove the lines of formality from their relationship.

She was right, he supposed. He wanted to put her quickly at ease. “You needn’t worry,” he said. “I have only three rules you must follow, and they’re very simple—but they’re very important at the same time. I expect you to take them seriously, and I hope that’s understood.”

She regarded him quietly, saying nothing.

He wondered what she was thinking. Was she prepared to take his rules seriously, or was there a chance she was feeling regret for their whole arrangement? She probably hadn’t expected to be greeted with rules right away before they’d even reached the house.

Well, she needed to know these things. There was no point in delaying the conversation. If they were going to share a home, she needed to know what was expected of her. In a way, he was doing her a great kindness by telling her right away what he was going to want from her—better than leaving her to guess.

“The first rule is that you must never interrupt me while I’m working,” he said.

“And how am I to know when you’re working?”

“I’ll be in my office with my door closed,” he explained. “When the door is open, even if it’s only a tiny crack, you may knock and seek my attention. But if the door is closed, it means I haven’t any time to talk, and I’ll expect you to leave me alone. Is that understood?”

She thought about it. “What if there’s some sort of emergency, and I need your attention?”

“What sort of emergency?”

“Well, I don’t know. Anything. What if I’m ill or injured?”

“Then my staff will assist you. If something like that should happen, you may go to my housekeeper, Mrs. Flowers, or to your lady’s maid.”

She sat up a little straighter. “I’m to have a lady’s maid?”

“Well, of course.” He was surprised by her reaction. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just that I never have.”

“Your father didn’t provide a lady’s maid for you?”

“No, and not for my sister either,” Isabella said. “We tended to one another.”

“I see.” He was beginning to understand why it was so urgent to her to secure her sister’s future. “Well, you’re a duchess now and my wife—of course you’ll have a lady’s maid. I’ve already made a hire, but if she displeases you, we can dismiss her and find someone else. I didn’t want you to be without assistance during your first days.”

“I’m sure whoever you’ve chosen for me is fine,” Isabella said quickly. “What’s her name?”

“She’s called Caroline. She’s a few years older than you are. I thought that would be helpful as you’re settling in.”

Isabella was silent.

“Is that all right?” Arthur asked.

“It is. I just…I appreciate that you took the time to think about what I might need,” Isabella replied. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, of course,” Arthur said. “It’s my responsibility.”

“I suppose we don’t know very much about one another,” Isabella observed.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Well, that’s all right,” she said. “The rule, I mean. I’m happy to give you the space you need while you’re working. We won’t have any problems on that score.”

“Good,” Arthur said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“What are the other rules?”

“The second rule is this.” Arthur drew a breath, knowing that his first rule had been by far the easiest one for her to accept. “You must never ask me questions about what I’m doing out of the house.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not even questions like that,” he said. “Starting from this moment, you mustn’t ask me anything about my business when I leave Windhill Manor. You must not ask me where I’m going or where I’ve been, who I’m seeing—nothing like that. You must simply accept that these are things you won’t be able to know and that they aren’t any of your business.”

“If I’m your wife, aren’t they my business? Don’t I have a right to know what my husband is doing?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “You have a right to know what I choose to share with you, and this is something I don’t choose to share. Once this carriage ride ends, I’ll expect you to abide by this rule going forward. Whenever I leave the house, you mustn’t ask me questions. And I don’t want you asking the staff about my comings and goings either. If you feel curious, you must simply find a way to push your curiosity aside.”

“Very well,” Isabella agreed. “I suppose, if that’s the rule, I’ll have to abide by it.”

But there was a shrewd look on her face that made Arthur wonder whether she was taking him seriously at all.

Of course, she isn’t a very obedient person, he thought. Someone who excelled at obeying the rules that had been set out for her would never have made up a lie the way she had. If she was obedient, she would have capitulated to the life her father had wanted for her—and the Viscount hadn’t seemed very interested in preparing any sort of good life for her at all.

And an obedient person would never have fought for her sister in the way Isabella was.

He liked her disobedience. It was one of the most fascinating qualities about her. But he didn’t want it to apply to him. She ought to obey him, and he would make sure that she did.

“You mentioned three rules,” she said. “So far, you’ve only given me two. What’s the third rule?”

“Ah,” he said. “The third rule is the simplest of all, and I expect you won’t have any questions.” At least, he hoped she wouldn’t. “You must never enter the attic.”

“I can’t go into the attic?” She sounded mystified.

“That’s right. Never.”

“But what’s up there?”

“I told you that I didn’t want to answer any questions about this,” he reminded her.

“Still, it is curious,” she said. “You must admit that. Are you hiding something in the attic?”

He couldn’t help it—his anger was beginning to mount. He sat forward, leaning toward her.

“I’ve given you three very simple rules to follow,” he said. “In exchange for doing so, you’ll be rewarded with a very good life. You’ll be a duchess. You’ll have everything you could ever want. I’ve promised to help your sister, just as you asked, so you have nothing to complain about. Now, do you mean to tell me that you can’t bring yourself to comply with my requests? All I need you to do is stay out of the attic, and for heaven’s sake, don’t ask any more questions! There’s nothing more you need to know!”

For the first time, she looked slightly intimidated. But he wouldn’t have said that she looked frightened which was what he might have expected. He knew he’d taken things a bit too far, leaning into her face like that. He shouldn’t have done that.

And yet, she wasn’t afraid of him.

That was interesting. He wondered what she was feeling if it wasn’t fear.

“All right,” she said after a moment. “I won’t go into the attic, then.”

But Arthur wasn’t completely certain he could take her at her word about that.

He would have to try, he supposed. He would have to do his best to trust her because there really wasn’t anything else to be done about it. And in the meantime, he would make sure to let his staff know that she wasn’t to be allowed up there. They ought to know it already—the attic had always been strictly off-limits to everyone—but perhaps a reminder wouldn’t go amiss, and it would certainly alert them to the fact that she was thinking of trying to get up there. If that was what she was thinking, at any rate. He had to admit that he was having trouble reading her, and he didn’t love that. It hadn’t occurred to him when he had decided to marry her that she would be capable of keeping secrets from him, but she could, of course. Whatever was on her mind right now was certainly a secret, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

As long as she obeyed his rules, though, they would be able to live happily, and there would be no strife between them.

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was staring out the carriage window, and it was clear to him that her thoughts were a million miles away. Plotting to disobey him? Hoping to uncover all his secrets? He couldn’t know, and the fact that he couldn’t know was alarming and upsetting.

Maybe this whole business had been a mistake.

But if it had, it was too late to do anything about it.