Chapter 19
It was the morning of the day before Christmas when Isabel arose, decidedly keeping the early hours simple.
This was her life and her home. She was growing tiresome of everyone getting in her way, particularly Sebastian, and wanted to prove to herself that no one really commanded her heart or her mind.
“You wish to break your fast while you paint?” Amber clarified when Isabel dressed and made her decision. “Won’t you leave crumbs in your paint supplies?”
That made her chuckle. “Not if I’m careful. Just a light tray, please. Some hot tea and oat cakes would be more than enough.”
“We do have good oat cakes here. Very well, Your Grace, I shall have your tray delivered to you shortly. Is there anything more I can do for you?” she added after delivering a pair of slippers.
“Just a shawl, please. It’s a very chilly morning.”
Amber nodded. “More snow fell last night. I was certain it would become a blizzard, but the household reassured me that such a thing rarely happens. Don’t you worry, there’s already a fire set in your art room.”
“Oh? Who knew I would spend the morning there?” Isabel fixed her shawl provided by her maid around her shoulders. “That was thoughtful.”
“The duke requested fires are lit in every room you spend more than a minute in,” her maid explained.
Isabel stumbled on her way to the door. Grasping the doorframe, she ignored the skip of her heartbeat. The brooding gaze of her husband came to mind until she shook the image away.
“Your Grace?”
“I’m all right. The tray when you can,” Isabel added before hastening out of the room.
She rubbed her face as she walked down the hall.
While she had noticed the house had seen even more improvements than what she had requested, and she had known the holiday touches came from Sebastian, she hadn’t realized just how much he was doing for her.
And yet he insists on keeping a barrier between us. The man must be out of his mind, or attempting to send me out of mine. I will need to talk to him. After yesterday… I will talk to him. I just need to gather my thoughts.
Painting had a way of easing Isabel’s worries, so she started down the main hall to make her way to the stairs. It wasn’t any faster going down the center of the house, but it was certainly warmer. She turned the corner toward the stairs that faced the front doorway.
They had a guest.
Isabel slowed down, noting the figures in the entry way. It couldn’t be past nine or ten, far too early for visitors. They were clearly unwelcome, too, by the way her butler and husband stood around them.
It was the butler she noticed first, the way Wesley appeared even grimmer than usual. Nervous, too. He wouldn’t stop fidgeting and shifting his feet all while his brow lowered down.
He noticed her, audibly inhaling. “Your Grace?”
But Sebastian was busy. His back was to Isabel as he stood tall with his arms crossed.
He was dressed for riding. On a day like this, she hoped he had changed his mind.
It didn’t appear that he’d had a chance to leave the house.
She noted the dark silky curls before he spoke loud enough for her to hear.
“No. You are not welcome here. Leave now.”
“Your Grace?” Wesley whispered.
Something is wrong. But what?
Confused at the tension she could feel from the other end of the entry hall, Isabel couldn’t resist creeping closer. There was their guest standing behind her husband, so there was little for her to see. A tall figure covered in a drab dark cloak stood slumped. The cloth was covered in frost.
They’ve come out of the cold and that’s how Sebastian wants to treat them? We could at least offer a cup of hot tea. Why he would refuse someone so sternly, I cannot imagine.
“Please,” came a roughened tenor voice. “I don’t ask for much.”
The familiarity of the voice made Isabel slow down, wondering if she was imagining this. It couldn’t be who it sounded like. That wasn’t possible. Even if the height looked about right, she couldn’t imagine that man being here. Traveling here. And for what, to see her?
Feeling the world slow down around her, she struggled to hear the words of the argument between her husband and the cloaked figured.
It felt as though she were underwater in the bath, hearing her maid calling for her.
She remembered how she liked to do that as a child.
Back when the world was much simpler, much nicer, and much less messy for her.
“You cannot deny me,” came the wounded protest. Then down the came the cloak.
Isabel froze in her tracks.
It cannot be.
And yet, somehow, it was indeed her brother.
Thomas Ravenshaw stood there in her line of vision with his golden hair darkened and damp against his skull.
He was even thinner than when she last saw him, a gaunt shadow claiming part of her elder brother.
There was a dimness to his eyes and his mouth was a sharp twist.
As everyone turned her way, Isabel realized she must have made a noise. Her hands shook as she brought one up to cover her mouth.
“Isabel!” Thomas stepped forward.
Sebastian looked over his shoulder but stopped Thomas from moving any closer, keeping himself between the siblings. Although Isabel could feel her husband looking at her, she couldn’t bring herself to turn away as she stared at her brother.
“Is it… Is it really you?”
A foolish question. But Isabel needed to be certain. Her head started to ache. The day was not going according to her plans any longer. Dropping her hand back down to her side, she forced herself to take a step forward.
Eyes widening with clear hope, Thomas gave a hurried nod. “Of course it is me. Your elder brother, Isabel. I have spent a long time tracking you down, and have found you at last.”
She didn’t remember him wanting to find her before. A whirlwind of emotions shoved through her. Most of the time, she didn’t like to think about her brother. It was easier that way after all that had happened.
When the court cases came to a standstill, when her brother disappeared, and when her parents retired to the countryside without her, Isabel had resolved to move forward.
She would protect herself and build up her own life.
It wasn’t easy, nor exactly ideal, but she was working on it. She had put away her past.
And now he was here to… to what?
“Whatever are you doing here?” Isabel asked him. She finally managed to tear her gaze away from him to glance at Sebastian, who offered only an impassive expression. He didn’t let Thomas any closer but otherwise said nothing.
Thomas slapped his hand against his heart. “For you, of course. I came to seek your forgiveness.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It is Christmas Eve, is it not?” Thomas leaned forward but couldn’t make any distance with Sebastian still there.
He let out a small huff before putting his smile back on his face.
“My dear sweet Isabel. What a trial I have been. Please, you must hear me out as I beg for forgiveness from my angel of a sister. I’ve changed.
Truly. I regret everything. I wish to make amends. ”
So much had happened since this time last year. Isabel blinked and could remember her brother gifting their parents with beautiful rugs and scarves. He hadn’t gifted her anything, profusing apologies he had not found the right gift for her and would eventually give her something.
He never did give her a gift. Still, seeing the cheer on her parents’ faces had been worth it. And their parents had blessed her with some jewelry she had pawned off only four months back, and slippers she wore now on her feet.
Isabel glanced down at them before looking back at her brother. “I don’t think I understand.”
“Then let me help you.” Thomas paused to glare at Sebastian. “Can you not see that my sister needs me? I cannot imagine why you are interfering yourself in family matters at a time like this.”
“We weren’t expecting you,” Isabel started cautiously.
As for her husband, he dropped his arm but crossed his arms again while he turned to stare down Thomas. “No, he wasn’t expected. And if the duchess,” he added her title emphatically, “doesn’t wish for you to be here, you’ll be thrown out at once.”
Thomas shook his head with a sharp laugh. “My sister would never want that.”
“She wouldn’t want a scoundrel for a brother, either,” Sebastian pointed out with his chin out.
Isabel hastened forward to stand between them. “Please, we do not need a fight here. It is Christmas Eve, is it not?”
“Say the word, Isabel.” Sebastian immediately acknowledged her. His eyes steadied on hers with clarity. “Say the word, and he is gone. I will not let him disturb your peace.”
I think he would do it. Would he even ask questions? The few times I have attempted to bring up the family scandal, he brushes it off. He must know. Only I don’t know how much he knows… Except for one thing. He would do it. He would throw my brother onto the street without a second thought.
Hiding her trembling hands by clutching her shawl, she glanced between the men. Both of them looked weary and yet prepared for a fight. She recognized Sebastian’s stance from inside the ring.
As much as she might like to see him box again, she couldn’t do that to her brother. Thomas wouldn’t survive a single round.
“Thank you, but no. I will hear him out. I… I want to hear what he has to say,” she added after taking a deep breath. It was hard to tell if she was convincing him or herself.
This is what a good person would do. A good sister, a good wife. Everyone surely deserves a second chance, don’t they? I couldn’t really turn my brother out onto the street… I think. No, I don’t have to believe or care about anything he says. But I will hear him out.
Sebastian gave a reluctant nod before glowering over at Thomas.
He eventually took a step aside. “Very well, hear him out as you desire. This is your home as well, my wife.” Before turning away, he moved closer to speak softly in her ear.
“But remember this: whenever you wish him gone, I will have him thrust out the door at once. No questions. No delays.”
My safety. That was his vow.
Warmth flooded through Isabel. Hopefully the blush was not obvious. This wasn’t exactly a romantic moment, even if she could smell him and understand the underlying promise he was saying. Her throat constricted and she couldn’t find her words for a moment, so all she could do was nod.
Behind Sebastian, her brother noisily cleared his throat. “I heard that.”
“Good,” her husband said while still looking at her. And then he turned away, walking down the hall like nothing had happened.
Thomas was rubbing his jaw when she finally turned back at him. His hair was thinning, she noticed, but he didn’t look particularly as unwell as she had thought. Perhaps it really had just been shadows.
“What an interesting fellow you married,” he said after a moment’s delay.
“Indeed.” Isabel took a step back as she gathered her strength.
She would need it now. Throwing out her hopes of working on matters with Sebastian, she now had to focus on her brother.
While her heart wanted to pull him into a hug with relief that he was confidently alive, she restrained her feelings and clung to the doubt and frustration she had been living with for the last couple of months.
When Wesley cleared his throat, she startled. So did Thomas, for they had all forgotten about the poor butler.
He gave a slight nod and looked rather put out. But he still politely waved a hand down the hall. “Shall we open the drawing room for your visitor, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Yes, I would appreciate that,” Isabel said with relief.
Allowing the butler to lead the way, she stepped into her favorite drawing room and wondered if she was a fool to be here with Thomas. But she still closed the door once he was inside, and then she took her seat, ready to listen.