Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As the picnic wound down, Isadora returned to the blankets where she lounged in the hazy sunshine and sipped idly at her wine, while watching the other members of the ton surrender to the afternoon’s languor.
Beside her, worn out from the excitement and the activities of the day, Sophia stretched out flat, her eyes shut and her small chest rising and falling softly.
Isadora reached over and brushed the hair from Sophia’s face. Judging by the girl’s smile, she’d had a wonderful day.
Once again, Isadora glanced up to find Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. She sat straight up, a strange feeling fluttering through her. Concern? Was that it?
No. Not precisely; she doubted anything could have happened to him.
But there had been plenty of ladies making eyes at his tall, handsome figure as he’d made his rounds.
Isadora hadn’t minded too much—after all, he was her husband, and being the object of envy didn’t unsettle her as much when he belonged to her—but now his absence sent unease clamoring over her heart.
Surely he wouldn’t have gone and spoken with someone in private, away from their party.
Unless—what if Mr. Windham had approached him and asked for a word? Isadora didn’t think he had been at the park, but they were in public, and it was perfectly possible that he might have heard about the activity and thought this was an ample opportunity to interfere again.
Her breath quickened. The last time he had involved himself in her marriage, she and Nicholas had…
But first he had come to address the matter with her. He had been possessive and angry, and she suspected even he didn’t know why he had behaved like that.
If they were to argue, better they did so away from Sophia.
She rose, ignoring the welcoming smiles sent in her direction—she had no intention of joining someone else’s group or conversation—and made her way to the stone paving that led through to the city center. And there, standing in a smaller alleyway, was Nicholas.
Relief pounded through her, aided and abetted by the fact that the man he was speaking to was not Mr. Windham. Thank heavens.
Although, from the looks of it, their conversation was not a pleasant one still. The man leaned forward, almost as though he were taunting Nicholas, and Nicholas’s shoulders were tight. He gestured sharply with one hand, the motion angry.
Isadora started forward, not knowing she had made the decision to move until she had already taken a few steps.
“Unacceptable!” Nicholas said, loudly enough that she caught the word, before his voice lowered once more.
The other man looked to be perhaps five or ten years older than Nicholas, his hair cropped short and his face handsome but in a nondescript way. If he turned and walked away now, she would not be able to pick him out of a crowd, she was almost certain.
And he was grinning in the face of Nicholas’s clear fury.
At the sound of her approach, Nicholas glanced up, and his face returned to that blank expression he wore so frequently. Impenetrable, no emotions allowed in.
“Ah,” the man chimed, turning his smile to her. There was something slightly unsettling about it, the way so many of his teeth were exposed by the gesture. “You must be His Grace’s lovely wife.”
Nicholas’s jaw snapped tight. “Enough. This conversation is over.” He stepped between the two of them, taking Isadora’s arm in his hand. He held her firmly enough that she could not have escaped, even if she’d wanted to.
“As you wish,” the man called after them. “But this matter is not over, Your Grace. I will take what is owed!”
Something flickered in Nicholas’s eyes, but he said nothing as he led Isadora back in the direction of the park, his jaw set and his muscles tense.
“Who was that?” Isadora asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Nicholas shook his head, not a muscle in his body loosening. “No one important. A business associate.”
“What business?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He exhaled sharply and turned to her, frustration passing across his face now. “Why did you come after me?”
She touched his arm. “Because you had gone, and I thought to find you. Was that so wrong of me?”
For a moment, she thought he might tell her that it was indeed very wrong of her, and that she ought to have stayed put like a good little wife and waited for his eventual return. But, to her surprise, he rested a hand atop hers for the briefest of moments.
“No, Isadora. It wasn’t wrong of you. I was just…” His jaw worked, and then with what appeared to be a monumental force of effort, he relaxed. “I should not have gone. I apologize. Where’s Sophia?”
“Sleeping,” Isadora said with a little smile, deciding to keep the peace and let the matter rest. The warmth of his palm on her hand lingered, even when he released her.
“I left her under guard, don’t worry. She’s perfectly well.
” She pointed at the blanket where Sophia’s small body still lay, watched over by the two footmen.
“They would walk into fire for her sake, and you know it.”
“We all would,” Nicholas muttered, but he didn’t look in the least comforted by this reflection. On the contrary, he looked the opposite, as though the thought of Sophia’s charm and lovability was a black mark against her name.
Perhaps it made him think of Grace. Had Grace been like that? Isadora almost asked, but then Nicholas put his hand on hers and squeezed, and the question died on her lips.
Not now. Not when they seemed as though they might have overcome the worst of the distance between them.
“Shall we go home?” he asked after a sigh.
Isadora smiled in relief. Finally, a place that was hers, and that felt like home. “I would love to.”
Isadora’s peace remained until it came time for them to retire to their chambers that evening.
She had not expected Nicholas to join her, not precisely—that would have been too much to ask of their fragile, tenuous relationship.
But she had expected more than to listen to his footsteps creeping down the hallway and away.
Once again, he was going out.
Caroline’s words came back to her. You have a lot of freedom as a married lady, you know. Perhaps you could try using some of it.
She did have a lot of freedom. And Nicholas had a lot of secrets.
Caroline was right about another thing, too: she did like him. More than liked him, perhaps. She wanted a true marriage one day, a home filled with children, and a husband who entrusted her with his heart as readily as he offered his protection.
Nicholas treated her with respect. At times, when emotion overcame his formidable restraint, he revealed a possessiveness that thrilled and unsettled her. But he kept the deepest parts of himself sealed away.
No longer.
Isadora slipped from her bed, belted a robe around her waist, and opened her door. A familiar lamp bobbed away down the corridor, and she silently set to follow.
If he rode into the city again, she would ride after him. Yes, she had promised him she would not do this again, but nor was she willing to resign herself to becoming a long-forgotten relic of Winchester Manor and never amounting to anything more.
No, that was unfair. She was finished with veiled truths and unfinished confessions.
She would have her marriage. Or she would lose it. She would not sit idly by and let it crumble.
Ahead of her, Nicholas descended the stairs and drifted through the house like a spectre.
She followed, placing her feet carefully.
Although she had expected him to make for the stables, he instead made his way through the foyer until he came to a side door that led through to a small gravel path. Opening it, he walked through.
Isadora winced and padded along the damp grass alongside, not daring to make a sound as she trailed behind the bobbing light.
Not the stables, certainly. But where could he be going?
After he’d reassured her he had no romantic trysts, she believed him, but she couldn’t determine where this path led. The church?
The spire blocked out the sky, and she felt another burst of curiosity. Why was Nicholas going to the church? To pray?
Not by the looks of it. Instead of walking up to the front doors, he went around the side into the small graveyard. Without missing a beat, he approached a large marble tombstone and kneeled before it.
Isadora hovered behind a bush, staring. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew with a sickening rush whose grave that was.
Grace’s.
She would have no issues with him visiting his former wife’s grave during the day if he had chosen to do so—but to the best of her knowledge, he had not. No, instead, he came in the middle of the night for a clandestine visit.
The night air bit at her thin robe, and she shivered. Nicholas didn’t move, cast in shadow, kneeling before the grave of his former wife—the woman he had loved so fiercely, she saw the remnants in his life even now.
A stone sank deep in her stomach.
It was one thing to compete with another woman who lived and breathed.
There, she might have a chance. But how could she vie for the affection of a man who had given it all to someone who had passed beyond this world?
There, Grace could not misstep or reveal fatal flaws.
In death, she had been rendered in perfection, and Isadora knew she would never be perfect.
She turned to leave, the stone in her stomach rising to her throat and stinging her eyes with tears.
“I know you’re there,” Nicholas called out, his voice almost too calm for the darkness. Isadora jumped. “You may as well come into the light.”