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“When will she be home?”
Rhys swallowed. “I do not know. I hope soon.”
So Rhys sang a lullaby, watching the rain drizzle out the window and hoping that his wayward wife had returned home and just didn’t ascend the steps to Millicent’s room. Or perhaps she’d seen him with Millie and refused to occupy the same room with him.
Yes, that was better. Because as long as she was home, he could reason with her and beg her forgiveness. As long as she hadn’t left him, there was still a chance to make her stay.
After Millicent fell asleep, Rhys slowly left her room and padded toward Isabel’s room. She must have returned. It was way too late, and the storm was blazing in earnest.
But as Rhys walked through the dark corridor leading to her chamber, somehow he knew.
She was gone.
He didn’t know whether it was the wilted flowers on the tables in the hall that alerted him to the fact. It might have been the change in the air that made him suffocate. The walls seemed duller, and the entire house was shrouded in darkness.
Perhaps all the beauty that Isabel brought with her to the house was not in the little silly things like paintings and accessories. Perhaps it was just her and her spirit.
He hurried down the corridor with a dim hope still present that all of that was just in his imagination. She might have just been sitting in her room, angrily stabbing at her embroidery.
The thought gave Rhys wings, and he fairly flew into her chamber. But the same dullness greeted him in her room as well.
She left me.The damned voice didn’t give him a moment of peace.
She left me.And he didn’t even blame her because he’d been treating her like a total arse since the moment they ran into each other outside the Duchess of Somerset’s ballroom.
She left me.And the realization was like a punch to the gut.
He walked further into the room and sat on her bed, then lay down, hugging the pillow that still smelled like her.
There. A piece of her was still present in the house. She was still here.
He took a deep breath, inhaling her wonderful scent. This couldn’t possibly be his life. This house did not feel like home without her.
He sat up. What in the world was he doing sniffing the pillow and walking around the house all maudlin?
She couldn’t have gone far. He needed to find her and bring her back. If not for his sake, then for the sake of his daughter.
With this resolution in mind, he hurried down the stairs only to be greeted by a huge gust of wind. The cloaked figure entered the house and closed the door behind him. He took off his hat and shook the rainwater off it before raising his head.
Rhys immediately recognized their groom, George. What was he doing here?
George looked up, an expression of fear shining in his eyes.
“My lord!” he yelled. “Lady Isabel’s horse just returned… Without her.”
* * *
That day was quite possibly the longest in Isabel’s life. She could not even imagine how it felt to Lilian.
When Isabel arrived at Lilian’s house, it turned out that Lilian had already spent a few hours in painful labor. Mary had said that something was wrong, and the babe was coming out upside down.
Isabel had no earthly idea what that could have possibly meant. But Lilian’s husband had rushed to a nearby village to look for an experienced midwife who could help.
When Lilian had been extremely tired and ready to give up, an old, weathered woman came into the house and did something miraculous. She put her hands on Lilian’s stomach and turned the babe.
And soon after that, the babe appeared into the world.
Well, not everything was as easy as that.
