“But I didn’t refuse,” he raised an eyebrow, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch.
She blinked. “Oh, ye did?”
He nodded.
Isla paused, a sudden, warm flush rising on her cheeks. She felt a mortifying little hitch in her breath as the realization hit her.
I practically leaped down me husband’s throat, demandin’ he agree to something he hadnae even begun to disagree with!
She felt a wave of foolishness wash over her, for railing at him when he had been nothing but accommodating, if a little stoic. It was a completely unnecessary burst, and she pressed her lips together for a moment of silent apology.
Then, she beamed, letting the relief and the simple joy of the victory win out.
“Thank ye, Yer Grace! Truly! I—well, I will see to all the arrangements meself, ye need nae worry!” She practically danced on the spot, her emerald eyes sparkling with excitement. “I will see ye at six o’clock. And I will be sure to askMrs. Callahan that the main dinin’ room be set for all of us appropriately.”
And with a burst of energy, she spun and ran down the corridor, eager to put her planning into action.
Later that evening, Oliver sat straight in his chair, his eyes alight with an excitement Isla hadn’t seen before.
The table in the grand dining room was set with a crisp white tablecloth and adorned with candelabras and beautiful displays showcasing holly berries, white feathers, and fresh cut sprigs of evergreen. Isla savored the scent, breathing deep as she looked to Benedict. He was stiff and formidable at the head of the long table, and clearly an unfamiliar presence there. Yet, the young boy seemed utterly undeterred as he went on.
“Papa, Isla and I spent a lot of time at the library this afternoon!” Oliver burst out, a half-eaten potato forgotten on his fork as he set it down. “She knows so much about Ancient Rome! She told me how the soldiers wore their armor and why the aqueducts were built.”
“Did she now?” He commented, watching his son intently as he took a sip of red wine.
“And we practiced riding earlier this morning, too!” Oliver continued, turning to Isla, his voice full of childish adoration.
“I had expressly forbid riding, son,” he said, his mouth a tight line. “Were you careful? Were the stable hands present?”
“We were so careful, Papa! And I am getting so much better!”
“Really,” Benedict said with a pause, seeing how happy his son was and how well he looked. “Tell me more then.”
“Isla is so much better than my old teacher! She doesn’t shout at me when I can’t get on fast or make the horse trot the right way. She just tells me to breathe, and did you know that works?”
Isla smiled, gently encouraging the boy with a small wink.
“That is very interesting,” the Duke said, and for a moment, the atmosphere was genuinely warm. “What else does Her Grace say?”
“She had a very interesting childhood in the Scottish Highlands.”
“Well, that sounds interesting, surely,” Benedict said as he looked to Isla. “Perhaps Her Grace will share some stories with me.”
Isla raised an eyebrow in response as she took a small sip of wine. “If His Grace pleases,” Isla said softly.
“Oh, Papa, can we go to Scotland one day?”
“Perhaps.”
“I also showed Isla the portrait of Mama in the gallery last week,” Oliver mentioned casually, taking a sip of water. “She’s so pretty, Isla, isn’t she?”
Benedict stiffened immediately. The easy atmosphere shattered as the Duke set his goblet down with a thud. Isla watched as his spine went rigid, and the muscle in his jaw clenched.
“Oh. Does it make you too sad to talk about Mama? I did not mean to upset you…”
“I am not upset. We shouldn’t dwell on the past, Oliver,” Benedict said, his voice flat and stern. The warmth in his eyes was replaced with a cold, impenetrable distance. “The past is done. Men look only to the future.”
“But it’s so unfair,” the boy protested, a tiny thread of defiance in his voice. “You haven’t told Isla anything about her. She’s your wife now, and she doesn’t even know Mama’s favorite flower or anything.”
