There were no paintings of people. She had noticed that previously, seeing how the halls maintained plenty of furniture, but there was little work of actual people beyond landscapes and fruit. It had taken her some time to realize it was because of how new Ronan’s family was to their title.
The second duke. He knew a life before the dukedom and found it in his hands much sooner than I would think he expected. What a dreadful responsibility to fall in his lap, especially after losing a parent. And they’re both gone. As is his sister. All he has is Oliver.
How clear it was to her that Ronan needed a family. He needed people there to support him, to build a life with him.
Whatever he was doing here was hardly a real life.
And yet…
“Foolish man,” Isla muttered under her breath.
What could she do, truly, when the man refused to be anything but impossible? It was almost as though he wanted to be miserable. She couldn’t understand him. If he would only talk to her…
Isla shook off the wish that would never happen. Wishes and hopes wouldn’t do her any good. No, she needed to be sensible. Wasn’t that why Ronan married her?
Maybe it was best she didn’t even think of him if she could help it. She had no interest in pining her life away. Whatever warmth she felt for him would fade in time.
Meanwhile, she didn’t want to let him control everything in her life. So up the stairs she climbed to make her way back to the nursery.
“Good morning,” Anne whispered when she gave a quiet knock. Peeking through the door, the nursemaid shared a hesitant smile. “He’s fast asleep, poor lad. His Grace said he should be permitted to rest longer this morning. Should I wake him for you?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to her. Isla flushed. Yes, if Oliver had been up late like she found him in the hall, he would need his rest. She wished she had thought of that.
“No, there is no need,” she amended hastily. “Thank you, Anne, but I’ll come back later.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the elderly woman whispered before gently closing the door while Isla turned away.
Now what was she to do? Restless and lonely, Isla roamed the house for a good hour. There was a buzzing sort of energy in her body that she couldn’t do anything with. Oliver was getting his sleep, Ronan would be useless or rude, and the household was in a tizzy over the cook’s grandchild visiting alongside a broken laundry basket.
No one had time for her. Or they would, if she asked them, Isla knew. They all liked her well enough even with the occasional slip of her Scottish accent and her poor jests. But they all smiled and eagerly greeted her whenever they passed in the halls. Hobbes said as well they loved having her as lady of the house.
So how can I possibly be lonely in such a large home surrounded by so many people?
Isla couldn’t bear it any longer. She needed to get out of the house. Hurrying up to her bed chamber, she pulled out her riding habit.
“Your Grace? Can I assist you?” Her lady’s maid, Doreen, appeared with a dress she had been restitching.
“Oh, I suppose so.” Isla couldn’t reach one of the buttons on the back and was tired of her arm. She sighed, letting it hang. “I cannot seem to do anything on my own.”
The maid set her things aside to come help her. “That isn’t true, Your Grace. It’s merely this dress. While it may be the height of fashion, it’s also very inconvenient should you wish to dress yourself. But that’s why you have me, isn’t it? I’m always happy to help. I’m only glad I was passing through. Why didn’t you ring the bell?”
Knowing the girl couldn’t see her, Isla wrinkled her nose.
It wasn’t because she didn’t like having a maid. And it wasn’t because she didn’t like Doreen. Rather, Isla was simply used to taking care of herself. Or her sisters could help her.
Except she didn’t have her sisters here any longer. Isla swallowed a lump in her throat. How she missed Margaret and Lacey; she would do anything to see them again. Never before had she been away from them so long. All the promises she made to Lacey about visiting now felt like lies. They were shallow. So what if she visited someday? It wouldn’t be soon enough.
“I thought I could do it myself,” Isla said at last with a sigh. “But you’re right. Fashion isn’t about dressing myself, besides, but looking my best. Even though I suppose I don’t have anyone to look my best for if I’m riding out here in the countryside.”
The buttons were done and now her maid helped with the layered skirts that often folded in on themselves. “Oh, I don’tknow about that. His Grace is surely about. Does he ride as well? I hear tell he has a spirited mount.”
He does, only I’m not permitted to ride him, and Ronan most definitely avoids the stables now in the morning since I’m often there.
“I’m sure he does,” Isla murmured.
“Are you feeling well?” Doreen paused to ask with worry.
I don’t have a stuffy nose. Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t think I look any different. I’m not pale or warm… Oh bother, this is not going to be a good day, is it? At least a ride should be enjoyable.
