Chapter 9
Winter had truly arrived at the Eastwynd estate. Heavy ocean winds brought a thick chill while bright white snow scattered across the grounds. It was blindingly bright, a shade Isabel wasn’t certain she had known could take place.
The snow in London is surely never so pure in color, and perhaps not even so cold.
Now if only Isabel’s nose, the last part of her to still feel cold from her morning stroll, would finally warm.
Fortunately, a distraction wasn’t too difficult to come by as she lingered by the large fire in the drawing room, singing to herself. Winter had swept in and the holidays were nearly upon them.
“Joyful, all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies; with th’angelic hosts proclaim,” she sang cheerfully, “Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
It was the merriest sort of song. She rose from her seat by the fire to stroll toward the window. When the words of the next verse wouldn’t come to her, however, she hummed.
How beautiful the world looks out there. If only it could be a little friendlier. Much like a particular husband. The staff doubts him more than I think they should, and yet he won’t give me the opportunity to prove them all right.
It didn’t help how Sebastian kept leaving home. He had gone to London two days ago, and then spent all of yesterday somewhere else. No one seemed to have any insight. As for today…
“Joyful,” Isabel started to pick up the chorus but stopped short when she heard a creaking sound on the other side of the room.
Gasping, she twisted around.
Sebastian stood in the doorway, one foot in, with a strange expression on his face.
Their eyes met. What she wouldn’t give to have half an idea of what he was thinking.
Hope sparked. Maybe he wanted to join her here.
He didn’t have to sing. Just his company would be welcome. Perhaps he could try to smile again.
But he stepped back just as she was looking for something to say. There was that shadow in his gaze and she wanted to bring it to the light.
And yet he wouldn’t let her. Sebastian turned his head away and retreated.
If the door hadn’t squeaked, would I have known he was even there?
Isabel hastened to the door, wondering how close he might still be. She wasn’t just going to let him disappear again. Why he insisted on hiding and keeping his distance, she couldn’t understand.
Already he was gone. The hall was empty.
“Sebastian?” she called.
There was no answer.
While she explored the next hall just to be certain, she eventually wound her way back to the drawing room without knowing what else to do with herself. She lingered in the doorway as though he might return.
She should have known he wouldn’t. Perhaps she did know.
Her parents had always said she had too much heart.
Isabel sighed, leaning against the door for a while.
It was the middle of the afternoon. While she was relieved Sebastian had returned before dark, it didn’t leave her feeling particularly eager for the rest of the day if he was going to keep avoiding her.
On her way to find a shawl, however, guests arrived.
“Guests?” She echoed in perplexation to Mrs. Maple with her announcement. “I wasn’t expecting any guests.”
Dread pooled in her stomach as well as a strange sort of anticipation.
She could manage, surely. Couldn’t she? This is what it meant to become a duchess.
To host when necessary. She considered the rooms and their food stores, wondering what could be done.
Hastening toward the front hall with Mrs. Maple at her heel, she almost had a plan by the time she spotted them.
“Oh.” She swallowed hard down her nerves and then stepped forward.
All of them were rather larger than she had anticipated.
There were three strange men gathered in the doorway, shoveling off snow from their hats and cloaks. All of them were taller than the other with Sebastian beside them.
From the look on his face, he knew them well. Mrs. Maple didn’t have a clue, only that they were certainly lords. Not a lady amongst them. Isabel felt the questions in her mind mounting, but refused to let them intimidate her.
“Welcome to Eastwynd, gentleman. What a pleasant surprise to have you here.” She ended with a glance at her husband.
If this is why he ran and hide from me, he could have at least given me a warning. What if Mrs. Maple can’t find enough plates for our guests for supper? And they’ll have to stay the night. They might even stay a week. How rude of Sebastian not to tell me or the staff.
He made a face for a second before reassuring her, “This was not a planned visit. It would appear my friends have come for a look at you.”
Neither sentence made much sense to Isabel.
She blinked and asked, “I beg your pardon?”
“Good evening, Your Grace,” one of the men interrupted.
He was made of sharp angles with a severe look in his eye.
But he did have his manners. Stepping forward, he reached for her hand.
When she gave it, he bowed over it. “Tristan Northcott, at your service. It is we who must beg your pardon. We couldn’t bear another day without meeting Sebastian’s… scandalous bride.”
Even with his sharpness, there was something gentle and teasing about his words that set her at ease. Her shoulders straightened as she told them, “I’m hardly scandalous.”
As long as they didn’t look into my family. Oh bother.
A golden-haired cheery man clapped Sebastian needlessly loud on the back as he said, “What a shame. We were hoping you would be indescribably dangerous.”
“Hardly,” the last stranger said. He reminded her of a wild horse she had seen her cousin attempting to tame once, a gleam in his eye and an awkward smile. Like a friendly pirate. “We only wanted to ensure you felt welcomed into the family.”
“The family?”
Sebastian sighed with a pained expression to the gentlemen. “Must we do this? Here?”
“How else are we supposed to meet your bride?”
Looking to her, Sebastian said, “It is of no matter for you to join us. I’ll take my unruly guests to the study and keep them out of your hair.”
She wondered if he was trying to get rid of her, and hoped that wasn’t the case.
Every second her curiosity grew about these men who were studying her in return.
What sort of family were they supposed to be?
She was fairly certain she had been introduced to one or two of them in the past, recognizing their faces from London.
“Don’t be silly.” She offered a gracious nod. “They are in our home, after all. We can have tea in the drawing room. I’ll only need a moment with our housekeeper to confirm supper.”
“They aren’t staying,” he said.
The severe looking one let out a small harrumph. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll stay the night and be gone in the morning. Your stables have already agreed to manage my carriage and Ronan’s steed. The drawing room, Your Grace?” He added with a pointed look her way.
Isabel rather liked him.
It didn’t take long for the men to settle in the warm drawing room.
Isabel lingered in the hall with Mrs. Maple.
There was much to consider, but she rather liked the challenge.
Her heart pounded and her head spun and it was more entertaining than keeping herself occupied singing songs to no one at all.
Returning to the drawing room, she accepted the chair that had been left empty. Sebastian sat nearby. She noticed the flicker of a warm smile before it faded. When she took her seat, he merely nodded in her direction.
Everyone introduced themselves. Proclaimed now to be family, she was given permission to call the severe man, the one she’d once heard referred to as the Iron Duke, as Northcott.
The charming man with golden hair and a boyish smile was Ashcombe, and the third one was Ronan Ward, a gentleman she had been introduced years ago but didn’t recall until he pointed out they had nearly been pushed into a bush by his cousin at that garden party.
The four gentlemen here all carried the title of duke.
It was Ashcombe who bragged about their playful name, Compass of the Rose.
Or something of the likes––now they all argued about the proper name since so much time had gone by since their youth.
Sebastian almost appeared embarrassed but grudgingly nodded along.
There was a shadow of a smile on his lips all the while that she couldn’t stop looking for while they spoke.
In all, Isabel rather liked his friends.
Even Northcott, who couldn’t stop studying her from across the room. He was quiet while Julian slapped his thighs and sighed dramatically. “What a relief it is to have Eastwynd finally bested into matrimony. What a delight!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you visited here often?”
“No.” Ward sounded annoyed. “Never. Sebastian here never cares to come, and so he never invited us.”
Turning to look at her husband, she wondered if he didn’t like his home. He hadn’t said that. And yet… she did feel sometimes he didn’t care for this place.
“It’s a treasure, to be certain,” Isabel said while turning back to Ward with a poised smile. “I’m certain he was waiting for the right time. We must invite you again during brighter and warmer weather for a house party. What of that?”
Ronan clapped his hands. “I do enjoy a house party.”
“I think we would all enjoy that,” Ashcombe said with a chuckle. “Eh, Sebastian?”
“We will see.”
Northcott said nothing. He drank slowly from his tea cup, having refused the brandy that Sebastian must have offered before the tea tray was ready.
“At least we might make the most of this visit,” Isabel reassured them.