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Chapter Ten
Cold rage began to bombardIsaac’s body like a strong wave; how dare Helena just come to his home, out of the blue, and act as if nothing were wrong? After the two years of the hell that she had put him through. Did she think nothing of it?
He turned to Louisa, who looked like a hare in the sights of a fox, trapped on the square of ground where she stood. He quietly said, “You may go to the kitchens Miss Stone. And Mrs. Wickham, would you send up a pot of tea to the drawing room where I think you have placed her?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said.
He plucked his hat off and removed his coat to hand over to the waiting footman and then took the stairs to the landing where Helena stood; she was asbeautiful as he remembered, still youthful, as if the last two yearshad not aged her all.
Helena’s ethereal hairlookedas soft and vibrant as he recalled, and his hand traitorously itched to run his fingers through it. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his buff trousers to stop himself from reaching out.
She is a vixen, Isaac, do not trust a word she says.
She gave him a sweet, simpering look, that was too sweet to be true. And to compound the sentiment, her eyes traced overhim in a slow dragging motion.“Isaac, you are looking well; time hasnot aged you too much at all.”
“I suppose it has not, as you look as lovely as ever.” Isaac replied. “Please, let usadjourn to the drawing room. Some tea will be sent up soon.”
She turned and walked back in the direction of the drawing room and Isaac gritted his teeth as all he could do was to swallow her backhanded compliment.Suddenly, things about her, attributes that he had forgotten or that heintentionallyburied during his years of grief, were suddenly coming back to his mind—and opening more old wounds in his heart.
He followed her to the room and spotted a new maid sitting there, her sensibleblack uniform andwhite apronas she stood and curtsied.
“Isaac—”
He cleared his throat and refrained from narrowing his eyes. Helena had quite the stunning ability to forget propriety when it suited her, but he would not let her undermine him with her maid.
She rolled her eyes and then corrected herself, “Maria Barton, may I introduce His Grace, Isaac Montagu, the Duke of Westwood; Your Grace, my lady’s maid, Miss Barton.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Isaac said as Helena sat but he kept standing, and he clasped his hands behind him. “Miss Follet…or is Mrs—?”
She shook her head, rather wanly.“I am unmarried, Isaac.”
Funny—I would have sworn your fatherwould have married you off to the Frenchman after that display.
He kept his expression blank. “May I ask, why the sudden visit?”
She turned her vibrant green eyes on him, and a small pout formed on her mouth.“Will you sit with us? It does not seem proper for you to be standing there like a monolith while we sit. Please sit with us, Isaac.”
“Miss Follet, may I remind you—”
“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I know, pardon me, Your Grace, but I once knew you only as Isaac, so forgive me for adhering to my memory. To be frank with you, I came to speak with you. A mutual friend of ours told me about you attending social gatherings again, and I assumed that you are having a change of heart to such soirees and…me.”
His brows darted up.“You?”
“Yes.” She looked at him with a simpering look.“My memory is faint that I can hardly recall it, but I know it was not supposed to have happened, Isaac. I feared that Father was going to let us marry, and you weregone for asennight. With no words from you, I thought you felt nothing for me. That day when you walked in on us, I was pouring out my fear to Phillipe. He used your absenceagainst me.”
“Are you saying your indiscretion was my fault?” His brows lowered.
“Miss Follet, your argument is—"
She stood and rested her hands on his and it was all Isaac could do to not wrench his hand away from her as if her touch burned, but he did pull away. It was one thing for her to come to his home unannounced, but it was another thing entirely for her to think she hadrights to touch him.
“It was so long ago, Isaac,” Helena said. “Can’t we let bygones be bygones and move along with our lives?”
Stiffly, Isaac asked. “And how do you propose we do such?”
“That we may start courting again.” she said, turning eyes brimming with hope on him.
Utterly stunned by her forwardness, Isaac stepped away, “Surely not. Miss Follet, I do not understand how you would think coming to my home and giving me some backhanded platitudes will change what happened between us.”
