The Dowager waved at a pile of pink gowns on the bed. “I’m getting rid of those awful pink gowns. You aren’t a débutante anymore. You’re the Duchess of Gloucester, and you’ll dress accordingly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with those gowns, and I like them very much.” She snatched one of the discarded dresses and put it back in the armoire. “I’m old enough to decide what to wear, thank you.”
“Apparently not, since you have such childish tastes.” The Dowager turned towards one of the maids. “Take that thing out.”
She blocked the maid. “No. These gowns are perfectly all right, and I like them.”
“Stop this fuss. You’ll receive new gowns, of course. Better ones.” The Dowager’s calm tone irked her.
“No. I like these.” A sob built up in her chest, and she couldn’t contain it. Her emotions were all over the place. She sobbed in earnest, and the maid stepped back, glancing between the two duchesses.
“I beg you, madam,” Lawson said. “Her Grace is happy with her wardrobe.”
The Dowager radiated coldness. “Isabella represents the noble House of Beaufort. I will not let her ridicule us.”
Isabella put a hand on her mouth to muffle the sob. She wasn’t proud of her overreaction, but the more she cried, the louder the sobs. And tears welled up in her eyes so easily since she was with child.
“What is happening?” Anthony entered the room, carrying all his authority.
Everyone remained still.
The Dowager matched his harsh expression. “Nothing. It’s Isabella who’s making a fuss. I’m replacing some of her gowns.”
He surveyed the room, and his gaze lingered on her. “Without discussing your plan with Isabella first, I guess.”
“Well, she never has breakfast with us, and she spends her mornings locked up in her bedroom,” the Dowager said. “She obviously doesn’t want to mingle with us.”
Lawson handed Isabella a handkerchief. “Pull yourself together,” she whispered.
“Isabella.” His tone changed from hard to soft in a moment. “Do you want to get rid of those gowns?”
She swallowed a few times not to sound like a kitten. “No.”
“Then those gowns will stay.” He faced the Dowager.
“She can’t be seen around in one of those things.”
“She’s the Duchess of Gloucester, and she’ll do as she pleases.” He stepped aside. “Grandmama, please let Isabella decide.”
Judging by how frosty the air became, the Dowager wasn’t used to losing a battle. “I’ll order new gowns anyway.”
“Gowns that Isabella will choose.” Anthony was as frosty as his grandmother.
A moment of uncomfortable silence filled the room; the false calm itched along her skin.
“I need a word with my wife.” Anthony didn’t lose eye contact with his grandmother.
To her credit, the Dowager left the room with grace and without arguing. The maids followed her. Only Lawson hesitated before leaving.
When the door was shut, Isabella twisted the handkerchief, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry about the scene.”
“No. I’m sorry for how my grandmama behaved. She’s used to controlling everything. She’s always been like that. I’ll talk to her and tell her not to make decisions for you.”
She nodded, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I hate seeing you crying.” He stood close to her, watching her with solemn eyes.
“I’m all right. It was mostly an angry cry. I feel rather silly now.”
