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Chapter 32
Isabel sat in front of her vanity, brushing out her hair later that night. Rhys had still been playing whist with the gentlemen below stairs when she turned in for the night, and Isabel had come to terms with the inevitability that she just might have to go to bed without her husband that night.
She knew he’d come to her later, but the cold, empty bed did not look enticing in the least. And after seeing his late wife’s gorgeous sister, she felt rather intimidated by her.
Rhys had acted strangely for the entire night, throwing glances toward the woman, and Isabel wondered if she had reminded him of his late wife and perhaps reminded him of feelings he had for her.
He had said he loved Isabel, and instead of feeling overjoyed, Isabel was concerned that he had said that during his moment of desperation after seeing his wife’s sister. Especially since he had not allowed Isabel to react and had avoided her for the rest of the night.
It was irrational, wasn’t it? Rhys had never remembered his late wife fondly. But jealousy was quite an irrational feeling.
Jealousy? Since when had Isabel been jealous of Rhys? She did not know the answer to the question, but the fact was undeniable. He was hers, and she was not about to share him with anyone. Even the memory of his late wife.
Isabel took her time with her nightly ablutions, brushed her hair with two hundred strokes, and still, she stalled going to sleep.
Just when she was about to douse the candlelight, there was a knock on the door. Isabel waited a beat for her husband to enter without waiting for her permission as he always did, only to hear another knock. And it wasn’t coming from the adjoining room door either.
Who could it be?
She put on her dressing gown and wrapped it tightly around herself before walking to answer the door. She cracked it open and beheld the tall form of her husband.
He leaned one hand on the doorjamb, his head hung, his hair disheveled, and his cravat hung loosely around his neck.
Isabel chuckled. “Can I assume your state of attire to mean that you’ve lost our money in whist?”
He raised his head then, mischief lurking in deep brown depth. “No, ma’am. We are still rich.”
Isabel opened the door wider. “Would you care to come in?”
He shook his head. “I am here to ask a lady out on an assignation.”
Isabel’s lips split in a smile. “Then why wouldn’t you come in, my lord?”
He raised a brow. “I am afraid your dear husband might come and catch us in a compromising position.”
Isabel let out a giggle. “What are you doing, Rhys?”
Rhys took her by the wrist and tugged her out of her room. Then he wrapped her arms around his neck. His face was perilously close to hers as he whispered, “Don’t you know, my lady, that house parties are the most scandalous events of theton? Ladies are expected to be caught, either in bed with another woman’s husband or out in the open.”
Isabel licked her lips, her gaze falling to Rhys’s mouth. “Well, my lord, then you’ve come to the right door. Did I ever tell you that being compromised out in the open is my favorite pastime?”
“Mm?”
“Yes, this is what landed me a husband once.”
Rhys let out a hoarse chuckle. “You don’t seem to regret that.”
Isabel bit on her lip and shook her head. “Not in the least.”
Their lips were a hair’s breadth away now. Their breaths mingled, Isabel’s breasts rubbing against Rhys’s waistcoat with every inhale. She stood on her tiptoes, and their lips would have met, but Rhys suddenly pulled away. He took her hand in his and tugged on her arm again.
They dashed through the house and toward the servants’ exit.
“Wouldn’t want to be caught prematurely,” Rhys reasoned.
Isabel just giggled like the silly girl she was, running through the house with her husband, in her nightclothes.
He opened the door, and only then did Isabel realize that she wasn’t wearing any slippers.
