She paused eating her soup. Her pearl earrings stopped swinging. “I’m not going. The sun is too strong, the food is too spicy, and the locals are too friendly.”
“Well, it was your idea, Grandmama. Isabella will appreciate your presence. I’ll send Rogers ahead to get the house ready.”
“But…I didn’t mean to come.” Her stunned expression would be comical if he weren’t worried about Isabella.
“Thank you, Grandmama.” He kissed her cheek. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see my wife.”
Grandmama muttered something he didn’t catch.
He went to Isabella’s bedroom through the door in his room. She was sitting on the bed in a pool of yellow satin, her shoulders shaking with sobs. The awful sounds tore at his soul.
“Isabella.”
She wiped her face quickly, smearing the rouge on her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you.”
He took her face and searched her black eyes. They’d always been shining with mirth, but now they were two dark abysses. He could protect her from gossip but not from the sadness poisoning her.
“It’s nothing.” She sniffled. “I’m being silly.”
“No, you aren’t.” He sat next to her. “You should admit you’re mourning your child. That’s the first step towards healing.”
“I want to be strong. After all the lies I told you, I don’t think I have the right to be sad. I want to do something to repay your kindness, but the more I try, the more tired I feel. Each day it seems the burden on my chest becomes heavier.”
“You have the right to be sad. But the more you wallow in your sadness, the more difficult getting rid of it becomes.” He held her hand. “I want to take you away from London. We have a house on the Ionian island of Mytos. The sunlight will cheer you up.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“This house is filled with bad memories. You need a change.”
“What about your work?”
“I trust my secretary, and I can work from there.” He kissed her knuckles. “I want to start over. A new beginning for us. And I hope you’ll agree.”
“I don’t want to cause you more trouble.”
“No troubles. Think about all the new plants you might bring here for the glasshouse.”
Her eyebrow spiked. “That’s interesting.”
He exhaled, and she rested her head on his chest.
“I’ll do my best to be better,” she whispered. “You deserve that.”
“You must get better for yourself first.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “My father suffered from melancholia, grieving for my mother. He never recovered. No matter what we did for him, he never got better. I think he didn’t want to.”
She shivered. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your melancholia to get worse.”
She snuggled closer. “May I ask you a favour?”
“Anything.”
“It’s selfish of me, but will you sleep with me tonight? I feel better when you hold me.”
He couldn’t refuse. “Of course.”
She removed her silk slippers. “I don’t want to call Lawson. She’ll understand I cried and be worried. I just want to get under the covers and sleep.” She stood up. “Do you mind helping me with the buttons? I’ll do the rest.”
