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Chapter Two
The faint pink-golden rays of dawn were breaking through the window of Isaac’s bedchamber, where, instead of sitting up in his bed, he was slumped into one of his padded chairsand swirling the dredges of his coffee.
Last night had just been another sleepless one in a line of dozens before it. It was not nightmares or worries that had kept him awake, but rather, emptiness. There were nights when his chest felt empty, cold, and lifeless and he knew where it all stemmed from—her; Miss Helen Follet, the woman who had broken his heart into splinters.
A year and six months had passed since the moment he had caught his ex-betrothed in another man’s arms. Seeing her pull away from his kiss, every hope about them having a happy marriage had vanished. He knew that he should have rebounded from it, but the passing time had not healed his wounds. The hollowness in his heartwas testament to how she had reached into his chest and ripped his heart away from his breastbone.
Rubbing his eyes, Isaac’s mind flitted to the young maid, Louisa Stone. He wondered how he had never seen her before, as she had been employed at his home for nearly a month. The tint of her auburn hair was a shade he had never seen before—it looked strewed through with a touch of light brown and seemed to shimmer brassy under the light.
Her slender heart-shaped face was unadorned with pigments, but it was far from plain. She had a charming button nose, creamy cheeks, a small dimple in a little quaint chin, and plump, pale coral lips. It was still bewildering to him how he had not seen her before—but then, had no sensible reason to be admiring her; she was only a maid.
Standing, Isaac tightened the tie of his banyan and rang for bathing water. William and his family were there only until the afternoon where they would have luncheon and thenthey would off to Drury Lane for a play. It was his task to entertain them until they went off—and somehow, just the notion of it felt unbearably hard.
Living in solitude was what he was best at and for the past year-and-a-half, he had sequestered himself away from thebeau monde. Isaac was positive that somehow along the way, he had forgotten how one would entertain guests.
However, if history served them well, he would only be engaging William. He supposed if he left William to keep talking and plying him with wine, he would not be made to do much. Lady Langley was one to sleep to noon and then, she and her mother gossiped over tea.
The footmen came in with the water and filled the copper tub in the adjacent bathing chamber and he sank into the water, rested his head on the lip and laid an arm along its edge. Bitterly, he wondered what had become of Helena; if she had married the Frenchman and had run away to the continent.
At least she does not know that I am a Duke now; I had kept that part of my life away from her for a reason, and now I know I had thought right.
Shaking the unsettling thought away, Isaac bathed and shaved before going back to the bedchamber to dress. His wardrobe had become a bit monochrome, with only dark grays and black suits, rather drab. He knew that sitting beside William, who had become somewhat of a dandy with his embroidered velvet and pink waistcoats, he would look as somber as his soul felt.
But he did not have the will to care how strange he would look; William knew his condition, of those days when he felt miserable and despondent, but lately, William had been trying to drag him out his rut. Isaac was not ignorant of the underlying reason for his friend’s sudden visit.William was going to try and cajole him into showing his face in social gatherings.
But Isaac had a flat answer for him—no. He was going to let the man do his best though, and when he had tired himself out, Isaac would assure him that he did not care forle bon ton. He tied his cravat and pinned it, something he had learned to do during the days he had shuttered himself form the world.
Leaving the dim bedchamber, he crossed the landing of the stairs and towards the breakfast room that had the same open spaces and glass doors like a solarium. It was smaller than the dining hall and faced the main garden and the lawns beyond it, and that somehow diminished the feeling of loneliness when he dined alone.
Soon, William would be joining him over coffee and crumpets, looking dapper and cheerful enough to outshine the sun. The newspaper was laid on the shorter oval table and while he sent for the table to set, he shook it out.
There was news about the wars overseas in France, about a ship of criminals sent off to New Holland, and more laws the Prince Regent was putting into effect.
“If you scowl any harder your face will be set that way,” William teased from the doorway.
Turning a page, Isaac replied, “Good morning to you too, Langley. How was your night?”
“Wonderful,” the Marquess of Ashford replied while taking his seat. “And yours?”
“Middling,” Isaac repliedwhile turning another page.
“… You didn’t sleep a wink, did you,” William asked, and before Isaac could reply, the maids came in with their morning meals.
They greeted both Lords then set the food on the table, poured out both cups of coffee and with curtsies, left. Isaac set the paper down to pick up his cup and sipped it, while William let his sit for a moment.
“You have not answered me, Montagu,” he said. “Did you or did you not sleep?”
Over the rim of the cup, Isaac muttered, “What difference is there?”
“None to me, but to you,” William replied. “Just tell me honestly; did you rest or not?”
Tired, Isaac rested the cup down and rubbed his brow, “No, I did not sleep; is it so obvious?”
“To me, yes,” William replied. “I remember how you were from Cambridge, and the days when you would stumble into Mister Farnham’s looking half-dead from studying all night. It is sort of the same look, only now, instead of you having dark circles under your eyes, there is a vein that sticks out on your foreheadthat tells me you have not slept.”
Reaching out for his cup, Isaac shook his head, “Is there a point? I’m plagued with sleeplessness from time-to-time, and I’ve accepted that, but you should not worry about my affairs.”
William leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table, “You’re wrong; I worry about you all the while. I fear that you’re cutting yourself off, and I would hate for you to become a hermit.”
