KENDALL FOUND! The saga surrounding the Duke and Duchess of Kendall continues. Their Graces, presumed drowned and deceased, were instead discovered healthy and well in the seaside village of Oban, Scotland. However, we have learned that Lord Hadley had already departed for Scotland, intent on recovering their bodies. We can only hope that his lordship experienced a joyous reunion with his daughter.
—article inThe London Times
Isolde slept poorly.
Though it had only been a week, she had grown accustomed to the luxurious warmth of Tristan’s body curled around hers at night.
She arrived in the private dining parlor scratchy-eyed and yawning, eager to see her husband.
Hadley was already in the room, dining happily on sausage, blood pudding, and eggs.
Tristan, however, was absent.
“Good morning, Izzy,” her father said cheerily, standing to kiss her cheek and pull out a chair for her.
Isolde forced a smile she did not feel and began dishing her own plate.
Would her husband attend breakfast? Or would she have to board theSS Statesmanand run him to ground?
They were married, for heaven’s sake.
How could they forge any sort of true marriage if he retreated inside himself the second a hiccup occurred?
Hadley was rather quiet, as if sensing the rising choler of her temper.
Finally, the dining room door opened, admitting Tristan in a rush of sea air. He appeared as starched, pressed, and ducal as ever.
Naturally, he did not apologize for his tardiness.A Duke of Kendall would never stoop to excuses, Isolde could almost hear him intoning in his aristocratic English baritone.
Instead, he gave a sparse greeting and then sat opposite her father at the round table, leaving Isolde as the lone bridge between the men.
The three of them ate in agonizing silence for a few minutes. Tension poured into the room, suffocating Isolde’s lungs—coal gas awaiting a spark to combust.
Finally, Hadley set down his fork and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.
“As I mentioned yesterday, your mother and siblings left London last week for Muirford House,” her father began, looking at Isolde. “I have spoken with the captain of the clipper ship. He thinks it a fine idea to sail up the Great Glen and then on tae Montrose around the coast of Moray. Your mother and the rest will be anxious tae see ye, Izzy.”
Isolde stilled, just as Tristan’s head snapped to attention.
She met her husband’s turbulent gaze, before turning to her father. “I don’t believe Kendall has decided where we will go next, Papa.”
Or rather, she and Tristan hadn’t come to an agreement on where they would next journey. Returning to London was less of a concern now that Hadley had arrived.
Her father spared a glance for Tristan. “Aye, well, His Grace can sort himself out while ye come with me tae Muirford House.”
“Papa,” Isolde said, reproach in her tone.
“My wife’s place is at my side, Hadley.” Tristan threw his napkin down on the tabletop. “Even you know as much.”
The derision in Tristan’s tone provided the spark needed to ignite her father’s temper.
“Two weeks.” Hadley braced his hands on the table. “Ye have had my Izzy in your hands for twobloodyweeks, and ye nearly killed her. By my reckoning,Your Grace”—he leaned on the honorific with scathing sarcasm—“ye arenae worthy of Isolde’s keeping. Ye can have her back when ye have proven your ability to properly care for a wife!”
“The law would state otherwise,” Tristan snapped. “Isolde and I are married and therefore—”
“The law can go hang!”
“Yes, all of Parliament currently debates your casual relationship with legalities, Hadley. Your association with Jarvis has clearly shown—”
