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After the brief episode of violence, Rhys’s blood had cooled. He ran a hand through his hair. “I shall go see Millicent now.”
“Rhys—”
“Not now!”
Rhys exited the room and slammed the door shut.
* * *
Isabel stood, shaking, in the aftermath of her husband’s rage. She had never seen him this way, and she hoped to never see him like this ever again.
Isabel had never been a coward, but she was frightened out of her wits at the moment. She had not anticipated such a severe reaction to the news. She had not expected him to be so angry.
She took a deep breath, took in the destruction caused by her husband, and silently exited the room. Footmen stood outside, hiding their gaze.
Isabel walked past them as if nothing was the matter.
She found the housekeeper, asked her to send someone to clean up the breakfast room and load a basket with food and salted almonds, and went to her room to change.
She would not be waiting for her husband to yell at her more. She would not be cowering in the house either. She needed to get out, and she needed to do it now.
