“That is, well, yes, I can do that…” Mrs. Maple hurriedly followed after him as he swept inside. The boxing could wait another day. There was other work to be done that had him eagerly on the move. “What of ribbons? We might need some more.”
Warm certainty rushed through Sebastian. “The list, Mrs. Maple. Use what we have and let me know what else we need. I’ll be happy to assist.”
For the next two days, he enjoyed the busy nature thrust upon him with the housekeeper’s help. They covered the main two floors in garlands, settling trees of all sizes in all the frequently used rooms. Even the kitchens had a small one. During this time, he noted how many of the rooms remained with closed door and closed windows. So much of the house remained shuttered.
“No one has asked for any such changes,” Mrs. Maple told him with a pointed expression. “Her Grace has only rearranged the front parlor, the drawing room, and the dining room.”
She uses those rooms most of all, I would assume. Here I had thought she had attended the entire house… Where is she hiding out? Is it still that painting room of hers?
He had nearly forgotten about that. “We need one more tree for the sunroom where the duchess paints. Any room the household seeks to brighten, feel free to do what needs to be done. Worry not about the expenses. This house should be more festive than anything any of us have ever seen, Mrs. Maple.”
As always, her eyes widened in surprise over his words before she hastily nodded and went off with one of the servants to enact his request.
Sebastian had been so busy that he forgot to attend supper for two days, and desired to make up for it the third night.
Once he had bathed and shaved and dressed, he made his way down to the drawing room to find Isabel already there. She hada wine glass in one hand while the other was gently brushing fingertips over a garland framing the doorway.
This was what he was seeking. A connection with her. A tentative apology so she knew they were…
Well, he wasn’t entirely sure yet. There was only so much of marriage that he understood. Even less that he desired. Sebastian simply wanted to make amends. For that short spell while dancing at the baron’s supper party, he had thought they connected well. He wanted that again. It wasn’t much he asked for, so he hoped, and he certainly didn’t want Isabel bitter towards him.
This isn’t war, you fool. What of friendship? Can we not have that?
Bracing himself, Sebastian stepped forward and found his voice. “Do you like the decorations?”
She twirled around quickly. The wine swirled in her glass without dropping and the dress fluttered around her ankles. Tonight’s gown was a new one, a deep green with a festive trim. They made her eyes shine. “Vale.”
“Sebastian, please.”
With a single nod, she looked him up and down before turning back toward the garland. “I very much like the decorations. Thank you for asking. It was very thoughtful to have them putup. Winter has always been such a beautiful season, at least for those of us willing to seek the beauty. Whoever decided to put these up?”
His heart skipped a beat. “I did.”
Finding strength in the way she gazed up at him in pleased surprise, Sebastian tried to keep talking. His voice was soft as though he didn’t wish to scare her off. But he noted the tight grasp on her wine glass like she was cautious, and he wanted to be gentle. “Eastwynd deserves a fresh start, I realized. It shouldn’t feel so dark, like a tomb. It deserves to be a home. To be lived in, especially now.”
As Isabel’s grip loosened, she slowly nodded. Her tight smile loosened into a genuine one. “That is a lovely thought. Thank you.”
“Of course. I do aim to… to be a better man.”
Better than my father.
The thought came to him unbidden, not realizing just how harsh he still felt about the late duke. His stomach clenched for a second before loosening as he found his wife didn’t ask any follow-up questions.
Instead, her gaze lifted over his head to share a tilted smirk. “Is there something about being better that means standing under a mistletoe?”
“What?” He jerked his eyes up to see a particular fig of greenery nearly blending in with the rest of the garlands. No one had asked him about hanging mistletoe.
“Don’t you…” Isabel asked hesitantly while slowly leaning forward.
Promptly stepping backward, Sebastian gave a sharp shake of his head. The household was not supposed to have done that. And he didn’t mean to confuse Isabel. Frustrated and suddenly on edge, he balled his hands into fists.
“I wouldn’t have hung that.”
Freezing where she stood, one foot forward, Isabel blinked. “No?”
“We have already discussed this, Isabel. This isn’t that sort of marriage.” Even as the urge crossed him to take her up in his arms––how warm might she be, he wondered, and how soft––Sebastian forced the dream away. He knew how cruel marriages could be and would have no part in them, being hurt or causing hurt. “It can’t be.”
Isabel’s eyes flashed. She didn’t cringe or back away, which most women would do. But she had never shrunk in front of him. Even as he respected her for her courage, he couldn’t ignore her words. “If I am to share your name, your home, then I deserve to know the man behind it. I have the right to know the man I swore to spend the rest of my life with, to know you.”
