Benedict hesitated for only a second. “Very well. But only if you procure two of those heavy travelling rugs from the cloakroom. I refuse to freeze for a constellation.”
Isla’s face lit up. She quickly gathered two enormous, wool tartan rugs from a nearby chest.
Moments later, they slipped out onto the wide stone balcony overlooking the snow-dusted grounds. The air hit them—sharp, biting, and exhilarating. They wrapped the rugs tightly around their shoulders, huddling together against the cold.
Above them, the sky was a deep, velvet black, pricked by a million brilliant, icy stars.
“Look at them,” Isla breathed, leaning her head against his shoulder. The heavy wool rug kept them warm, but it was the solid, dependable weight of his presence that truly grounded her. “Oliver would be delighted.”
“They are impressive,” Benedict conceded, looking up, his voice low, subdued by the vastness above.
“It felt like home tonight, Yer Grace. Like a proper home.”
Benedict gently shifted the rug so it covered her neck more completely, his hand brushing her cheek.
They stood there for several minutes, wrapped in the wool and the quiet beneath the silent majesty of the night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What do you mean you want to return to London this week?” Benedict asked in a clipped tone over breakfast.
They had only been back at Ealdwick Manor for a matter of days. And they were just now getting the place back to normal—as Isla’s family had recently departed. The air had been thick with the comfortable silence of their established routines, and her unexpected demand had shattered it like glass.
“The Arrowfells have invited us to a very small Christmas party at their townhouse, and after that unfortunate event… I am desperate for a second chance.” Isla sat straighter. “I just received word today from her,” she said as she held up the correspondence as proof. “It is a very thoughtful request. They thought we would still be in London, and the correspondence was forwarded to us here…”
I need this victory. I need to prove I belong in the elevated sphere Benedict occupies, and this is me chance.
“I had Mr. Frederickson see to closing up the townhouse, I would need to send word to have it prepared for us. This is terribly inconvenient. I do not see how this social call cannot wait until the new year.”
“I ken it is trouble, but I so desperately need friends in thetonif I am to succeed as your duchess…” she said, wringing her hands together, her desperation taking over.
Benedict studied her, his blue eyes sharp. She knew he was assessing her plea. The moment stretched, heavy and still, before he finally broke.
“Very well,” he barked. “Make the arrangements, we shall leave in two days and make sure we are home for Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, Benedict,” she said as she ran up and embraced him, brimming with gratitude, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank ye.”
“Did I just hear you are already going back to the city so soon?” Mr. Flark said as he entered the room, his surprise evident as he stopped short on his heels. “You have only just arrived, Your Graces. And the holidays are so soon upon us. This is most strange.”
“It appears my wife requires it,” Benedict said, his tone dry. “Please have Mrs. Callahan make the arrangements and send word to London. Now.”
“At once, Your Grace,” Flark said, executing a swift bow before turning on his heel and leaving the room, no doubt already calculating the logistical nightmare of preparing the London house and the Duke’s considerable retinue in forty-eight hours.
Isla pulled back, her cheeks flushed with triumph and the exhilarating danger of defying his initial will. She had not only secured a second chance in theton, but she had also discovered a small, thrilling vulnerability in her husband. She enjoyed testing his boundaries.
“You are pleased with yourself,” Benedict observed as if reading her mind, pushing his plate of kippers aside. He leaned his elbows on the heavy oak table, his gaze dropping to the rapid pulse point visible above the collar of her day dress.
“Aye, I am,” she admitted, her gaze sparkling. “I cannae deny it. I felt I botched me chance with the London ladies last time. I must show them I am not just some rough Highland lass, but a capable duchess who can carry off a diamond necklace as well as the next woman. I will start the new year on a positive note.”
“You aremyDuchess,” he corrected. He reached out and caught her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “You are the Duchess of Ealdwick. That is all the qualification required, Isla. The rest is noise. Do not forgetwho validates your presence. And do not forget that you will have to make this up to me.”
His touch was brief but left a burning trail. Isla felt the raw power of him. He was a man who controlled lands, wealth, and now, her social calendar, all with a single word. His concession was now a testament to her own power, and it was intoxicating.
“Aye, Yer Grace,” she murmured.
“Good,” he said, releasing her. He stood abruptly, the heavy oak chair scraping against the stone floor. “Two days. I expect the staff to execute this with military precision. Flark will notify the stables. Mrs. Callahan will handle the packing. Ensure Oliver’s favorite books are packed securely as we will be bringing him of course. We cannot have him throwing a fit in the carriage.”
Isla followed him out of the dining room and into the grand hall, her heels clicking rapidly on the marble. “I shall see to it immediately. Two days is little time, but we shall manage. I ken it will be worth the trouble, and we will be home in time for a most happy holiday.”
