Anthony didn’t step further into the glasshouse but stayed in the shadows. His auburn hair almost entirely covered the left side of his face, but a small patch of uneven skin could be seen.
“Your Grace.” Isabella curtsied. “Have we taken your spot?”
“Yes.” He put the book he was holding on a table.
“How are you?” she said, wishing she could hug him.
“Almost in one piece.” He didn’t smile, and she wasn’t sure what to make of his comment.
She searched the shadows but couldn’t see anything else of his face. “We were worried about you, sir.”
He didn’t answer, and an awkward silence dropped. The sound of the water dripping from either a fountain or an irrigation system filled the quiet conservatory.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, both because she didn’t bear the silence any longer and because she needed to apologise to him for her general sense of guilt.
“Don’t be sorry for me,” he hissed with venom. His long curls parted an inch, revealing a portion of swollen skin of his left cheek.
He turned around, but the Dowager came into view, and a new round of curtsies started.
The Dowager exchanged a harsh glance with Anthony. They stared at each other with such intensity she feared they might start shouting at each other.
“Your Grace.” Isabella curtsied again.
The Dowager stopped staring at her grandson. “The situation isn’t as dramatic as Anthony has let you think. We’re eager to celebrate Anthony’s complete recovery and Patrick’s imminent departure with a ball, an extraordinary event. I hope you and your family will be able to attend. I reckon your parents are going to leave for the Americas soon.”
“Yes, madam.” She felt as if she were a child again and her governess had asked her to list all the kings of England.
Anthony didn’t speak, but even in the dimly lit spot where he stood, she could tell he was clenching his jaw.
A little frown appeared on Lawson’s forehead. Isabella could almost hear the lady’s maid’s thoughts. Mother wouldn’t be able to refuse the invitation, but at the same time, she wouldn’t be pleased. Not when Mother was already making other plans for Helen.
Isabella forced a smile. “We’ll be delighted.”
Anthony left without saying a word.
The Dowager followed his retreat with palpable disappointment. “It’s decided then.” She too left with the same long strides as her grandson.
Patrick exhaled when they were alone. “I apologise for my brother’s rudeness.”
“Please don’t. He has every right to be grumpy, and we intruded into his quiet place.”
He angled towards the spot where Anthony had been. “Quiet is the last thing my brother needs.”
* * *
“Anthony!”Grandmama’s voice echoed in the corridor as Anthony walked away from the conservatory.
Seeing Isabella again without warning had been a punch to his stomach. She was radiant and beautiful, full of life and laughter. Her obsidian eyes sparkled. Her porcelain skin was unblemished. He had never noticed how smooth her skin looked until now. How petty of him.
“Don’t you walk away from me.” Grandmama overtook him and blocked his path. She was one fast old woman; he would give her that. She pointed a finger at him. “There was no need to be rude to Isabella.”
“You don’t even like her.”
“A further reason to be polite.”
“There was no need to ambush me like that! I don’t want a ball to celebrate my recovery.” He gnashed his teeth, forcing his voice down.
“We’ll give a ball and show everyone that the Duke of Gloucester is well and as powerful as ever. Rumours are circulating about your recovery. People are starting to question why you are hiding. We Beauforts don’t hide from anyone.”
