Isla nodded to the servants, gesturing up the stairs. “It’s only for a day or two, as I said. I’ll be out of your hair soon. I simply… I need to…”
“What? Isla, dear, you are a married woman! What on earth are you doing here? I am glad to see you, of course, and it’s a relief you are well, but this hardly makes any sense and I know the neighbors will surely gossip. What on earth am I to tell them?”
The questions were grinding her down into a pulp that didn’t convince Isla she would be able to put herself together again. She looked away, willing herself not to cry.
After a slow breath, she said, “Tell them the duke has forced me out and I cannot return. He’s given me enough coin to leave London. I’ll be on my way to our Aunt’s before the week is out. So, really, I would rather you didn’t say a word to the neighbors.”
They’ll learn eventually where I really go, to Lord Dunn. Everyone will. Perhaps it will ease the hurt, in time. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Everything feels so wrong. Everything is a lie and everything hurts. But I don’t know what else I can do.
A loud gasp escaped her mother, the woman putting her hands over her heart. “Oh! Isla! What did you do?”
“I would like to go lie down now,” Isla said by way of an answer.
She forced herself to climb the stairs. It would be apparent she had shocked her mother enough not to follow. Feeling exhausted, Isla thought about asking someone about her sisters, where they might be, but she couldn’t bear to talk to anyone right now. She would have to lie to them as well.
Urging the servants out of the room, Isla instructed them to tell her driver to return home as his mission was complete. Everyone was removed from the bed chamber. She only removed her shoes before collapsing in the familiar bed.
It smelled just like she remembered. Clean linens and her sisters. The lumps were still the same. Nothing at all like the luxurious bed she enjoyed as a duchess, but still so comfortable.
She closed her eyes and prayed she might be able to forget the life she almost had. The joy she had experienced for such a short spell. But the more she held her eyes tightly shut, the more she saw everything.
There was Oliver running to her, bringing her his favorite wooden horse with a delighted smile. Her cheerful household nodding and waving to her through the halls, enthusiastic over short greetings and suggestions. And Ronan, the way he had cared for her. The caressing touch of his hand when he brushedhair from her face when she was ill, the gentle kiss on her forehead after their waltz.
I am so alone.
The ache inside of Isla felt as though it might very well split her into pieces. Part of her wished it would. She managed to fall asleep just as the tears began to fall again.
CHAPTER 32
Returning to his country estate had been the right move for Ronan. He couldn’t imagine being in London. Or worst, his country seat. No, he didn’t want anything but these very rooms he had chosen and styled for himself.
The heavy dark curtains styled in blue blocked much of the sunlight when he wrapped the dressing gown around his shoulders. It tied at the waist, allowing him enough decency to leave.
Not that he particularly wanted to. But his valet was acting persnickety, suggesting they give the room time to air out. Ronan didn’t have the energy to argue. He’d bathed and shaved and now donned the dressing gown to force himself out of the chamber.
Then he sat himself in his library to stare at the small fire, not caring if it grew or died. There was more light here but not in this corner. He liked how dark it was, feeling it aptly fit his mood. A tea tray was delivered at some point, but he left alone.
I could stay here forever. Perhaps I will. What else is there to do? I failed at my plan, I failed at being a husband as well as a brother. If I stay here, I can’t possibly fail at anything else. Or if I do, it shan’t be my fault.
“Ronan?”
He jerked, turning to find Julian strolling into the room. The other duke was striding across the room before Ronan could think. Standing, and grabbing the nearest book on hand, Ronan watched his friend push the curtains open wider. He flinched and frowned.
“What are you doing here?” Ronan demanded.
“Lovely to see you as well,” his old friend noted wryly. “You are looking particularly… unfortunate.”
With a huff, he waved the book about in haste. “I was reading. I have things to do, Julian.”
“I beg your pardon, old chap. I didn’t know you were such a fan of gothic romances,” his friend said mildly as he came forward to inspect the book. Ronan’s grip tightened on it. The book must have been left out by Isla at some point, never to be returned.
It was like she was determined to haunt him. He tossed it at once.
Ronan sat back down. “Very well. What is it?”
“Must I always come to you on business? Or some other matter?” Julian sat down in the nearby chair before promptly rising to feed the dying fire. The golden-haired gentleman was always energetic and light on his feet. “Haven’t heard from you for a short while, and learned you suddenly left London, so I thought I might come by. Genevieve sends her greetings.”
He's pushing it in my face, is he, that he can keep a wife?
