Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Isabelle woke the following morning filled with a refreshed resolve, although she had spent most of the night tossing and turning.
Each time she closed her eyes to sleep, all she could think about was that her father had betrayed her.
That, or the kiss with Windham.
Isabelle tossed back the sheets and swung herself across the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. The sun hadn’t yet crept over the horizon to shine into her windows, which gave her some additional time to be alone with her thoughts.
After donning a simple blue morning dress, she lit a small lamp and plodded down the hallway, down the stairs, through the garden doors and over to her little sanctuary.
Relief flooded through her the moment she shut the little greenhouse door.
She hung the lamp from a hook affixed to the ceiling. Its friendly glow cast just enough light for her to sketch out a painting on one of the canvases. Her pencil glided along its surface as she sketched out the Windham Castle port from memory.
It would be a gift for the duke when she was finally wed. Isabelle imagined that he could hang it in his study as a daily reminder of how he had wronged her and all she had done for his family.
Isabelle hummed to herself, then realized with dismay that it was the haunting melody from the night before, but she couldn’t erase it from her mind. She continued to repeat the tune as she poured paint onto her palette.
As she set her brush to the canvas, the red-orange streams of sunrise began to inch their way above the horizon.
It was only then that she noticed the figure standing outside her greenhouse.
Felix stood there forlornly with his hands in his pockets and Rose at his heels.
The wiggly puppy indicated that she would rather be inside with Isabelle.
She opened the door and allowed Rose to scamper inside. Isabelle took a deep breath and sighed. “We need to talk.”
“We have already ruined your reputation. What further harm can be done?” Felix muttered bitterly.
Isabelle pressed her lips together in an effort to hold back her sharp retort. She wanted to order him to go away; to stop concerning himself with her reputation and focus on how they could fix this debacle.
She cleared her throat and adopted a rigid, defiant stance. “I shall marry the first man who makes an offer.”
All color bled from the duke’s face. “You cannot. I shall not in good conscience arrange a marriage for you when I know that you have been ruined.”
“You shall simply keep your mouth shut and I shall do the same.”
He scowled. “That would be dishonorable.”
“I think if we took the time to discuss all the dishonorable incidents that have occurred between us, we would never leave this spot.” Isabelle planted her hands on her hips. “This is the best option we have to achieve what we both desire.”
“You do not desire to be married.”
“And yet, it appears that I will be forced to walk down the aisle one way or the other.”
The duke’s jaw clenched. “This is not how I wanted this matter to unfold.”
Isabelle sighed, her shoulders slumping and her hands dropping. “Well, Windham, we cannot always get what we want.”
And with that, she turned back into the greenhouse and locked the door behind her.
She only hoped that the duke had departed before he could witness her tears.
Lord Milton stood regally in the middle of the drawing room with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, looking like the definition of charm. “Miss Alden, you look radiant this morning. I hope you are well after your fainting spell.”
Isabelle scratched at a smudge of green paint on her hand. “I can assure you I look rather a mess, Lord Milton, but I thank you for your kind words. As for the state of my being, I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
He chuckled and held the flowers out to her. “I could not help but notice the array of flowers on your dress at last night’s ball. It was the most stunning I have ever seen you look.”
She forced a smile at his pleasantries. What other choice did she have? He was the first suitor who had come calling. There was an interest in his eyes, he told her that he was willing to marry her, and it would have to be good enough.
After all, Lord Milton had a good-sized property and a fortune to his name. He would make a suitable husband, they would have children, and the Windhams would get everything they needed.
The Dowager Duchess looked up from her needlework and gave Isabelle an encouraging nod. Isabelle forced a smile and led Lord Milton to the couch.
“Please,” she said as she smoothed the skirt of her dress and sat down. “Sit with me.”
Lord Milton smiled and handed the flowers to Elizabeth, who stepped forward to take them from him. He didn’t so much as nod to her.
A foul taste rose in Isabelle’s mouth. Even though Elizabeth was a member of the household staff, her family had worked for Lord Milton’s family for years. Acknowledging her with kindness was hardly an unseemly thing to do.
He is a suitable match. I will have a good husband in him, even if we do not desire to be married. Given time, perhaps we may even kindle a warm friendship.
She folded her hands in her lap. “It was a shame that we did not have the opportunity to continue dancing together last night.”
“It may be for the best,” he said, giving her another charismatic smile. “If you are prone to fainting at balls, it may be better that we stick to less exciting activities.”
Isabelle bit her tongue. The man was so self-involved that he hadn’t once considered all she was doing was avoiding him. Instead, he sat there and gave her that smile that made it seem like she was the one completely enraptured with him.
Though she knew it was a smile that would give other women butterflies in their stomachs, it did nothing but turn hers. His was not the smile she wanted to see.
Regardless, she would have to make do with Lord Milton. Perhaps they could grow to love each other, although she held out little hope for it. They were two very different people.
Lord Milton held a polite fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I was thinking that if your chaperone was in agreement, we might go for a promenade tomorrow in the early afternoon.”
Isabelle looked to the Dowager Duchess. She gave her a small smile and, although the Dowager’s eyebrows pulled together, she gave a short nod.
The lord shifted on the patterned couch and offered another smile. “I hear that you are quite adept at painting. Based upon the paint on your fingers I would assume that description is rather accurate?”
“Some days I am.” Isabelle picked at more of the green paint. “And yet there are others still when I cannot for the life of me seem to paint something as simple as a circle.”
He let out a warm laugh that had her easing back into the cushions. Even though Lord Milton’s intention hadn’t been to marry, he was also looking for the easiest solution to meet his societal obligations.
There may be a way for the two of us to work together and both get what we want.
She would flirt with him and charm him, for he was the best prospect she had.
However, she would have to forget about Felix’s kiss if she truly wanted to move forward into a new life with Lord Milton.
Once she had accomplished that, she would make her true intentions known to the lord.
Hopefully, he would see the sense in her proposal.
After all, what was the point of having as much land as he did without having children to inherit it?
Lord Milton smiled and leaned closer to her. “After our promenade, I thought we might have tea together. I would like to make my intentions with you known.”
Her heart raced as she gave him a smile, tucking a loose strand of her behind her ear. “Intentions that you didn’t declare at the Fitzroy ball? I had thought that you said everything there was to say.”
He chuckled and reached for that same strand, but instead of pulling it out as Windham would’ve done, he smoothed it back further, tucking the edges into her pin and making sure not a hair was out of place.
“You are so beautiful when you wear your hair up.”
“And here I thought I was beautiful all the time,” she said, leaning in and smoothing down the collar of his shirt. “If my hair worn back is what you prefer, then I will ensure that not a single hair is out of place when we’re together.”
Lord Milton beamed—though she suspected that it was because she agreed to do what he wanted—and settled back into the cushions. He draped his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against her shoulder.
“When we are married, you shall have a painting studio at Milton Manor and we shall take trips to America to see your family.”
Isabelle paused at that, looking at him like she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean that? We can visit my parents?”
“Of course.”
Perhaps this marriage really won’t be so bad. Companionship and I can see my family. There’s nothing more I could want.
Lord Milton smiled as he reached out to smooth another loose curl from her face. “We’ll travel to see them after the wedding, before you are pregnant.”
Isabelle’s cheeks flamed. “You will have to speak to Windham then, about your intentions and if we are to formally court.”
“I’ll speak to him as soon as my schedule permits.”
This might not be what she wanted for her future, but Lord Milton was her only option.
Later that night, Isabelle sat by the fire with a book in her lap, her legs curled beneath her on the couch.
“You were with Milton for a long time today.”
She looked up from her book to see Windham leaning against the doorway. He frowned as he looked at her, the corners of his eyes narrowing quizzically.
Isabelle returned her attention to her book.
“Is that it?” Windham asked, his tone incredulous. “You have spent far more of my time than I care to think about, telling me things I would never care to talk about, but now that I do wish to speak to you, you have nothing left to say to me?”
“Convenient how this once again seems to be on your time, is it not?” Isabelle flipped the page, but she was no longer paying attention to the sentences in her book.
It was hard for her to think about Windham and anything other than the way he was looking at her.
As he entered the room and sat down in one of the nearby armchairs, Isabelle felt like her soul was coming back to life. He kicked his feet up onto the ottoman in front of him, but his gaze never left her.
“I do not understand why you would be bothered about myself and Lord Milton spending more time together. Did you not state earlier that he did not wish to marry and that he would make a good friend for me? It certainly appears that I am not destined to have friendships with any of the women here, therefore my friendship options have grown rather slim.”
Windham’s eyes narrowed. “Milton has changed his mind and wishes to marry this season.”
“Even better then!” Isabelle forced a smile and closed her book, leaning closer to him in the pretense of becoming deeply invested in the conversation. “I should think that the two of us would get along even better.”
“I heard that he does not suffer angry old geese.”
Though she knew he was just trying to provoke a response from her, she wasn’t about to give in. He wanted to spar with her and see who was going to come out on top.
Isabelle was tired of sparring.
She stood and dropped the book on the coffee table between them. “I should retire to bed. Lord Milton has asked me to promenade with him tomorrow and I must be well-rested if I wish to put my best foot forward.”
Windham rolled his eyes. “You are wasting your time with a man like him and we both know it. He’s never going to give you the mental stimulation that you need.”
Isabelle swallowed a lump in her throat. She hated that he was right. “You do not know what you are talking about. As soon as his schedule permits, he’ll be asking you for my hand.”
The words were sour on her tongue, but lashing out at the duke felt good. It felt like a relief to say the words out loud and to know that they were true. There was nothing more to be done.
She would be wed to Lord Milton and Windham could continue standing there looking like she had slapped him.
“I know you, Isabelle. I have spent weeks with you and whether you like it or not, I know what makes you tick. Henry Milton is the last man on this earth who can make you happy.”
She gave him a bitter smile. “I think you have already appropriated that title.”
The room was silent as she stalked from it.
Thankfully, the tears didn’t fall until she had returned to her chambers. With the door tightly locked, she could sift through the ashes of her hopes and dreams without fear of interruption.