“But apparently that won’t stop you from trying,” she said bitterly.
“Arthur, really,” Aunt Olivia murmured, “you must allow her to attend balls. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and there will be even more talk if the new duchess suddenly disappears from society. You are already a known recluse. Let her socialize. If you don’t, people will come up with all sorts of explanations to explain her absence, and I’m sure they’ll all be worse than the truth.”
Arthur stared out the window for a long time.
Isabella felt as if she couldn’t breathe. He was deciding her future as they sat there. She longed to say something, to plead her case in some way, but what was there to say? He had already heard everything she would have wanted to say for herself. All she could do now was wait for his verdict.
“Very well,” he said at last. “You’ll still be allowed to attend balls—but there will be no more dancing with other gentlemen.”
“That’s going to look odd,” Aunt Olivia argued. “If she goes to balls and never dances? Never accepts a request? People will stop asking, and eventually everyone will start to assume she’s simply undesirable. You don’t want people talking about your wife that way, Arthur. That will make you both look bad.”
Arthur let out a heavy sigh. “Verywell,” he said. “Then you must always ask my permission before accepting a dance with anyone. That’s not too much for me to ask, I think, because Iamyour husband, and I ought to have some control over these things. I shouldn’t be forced to watch you disappear into the arms of other gentlemen every time we go out. If you dance withsomeone, it will be because I give my permission, and that’s my final word on the subject.”
“Arthur…” Aunt Olivia began.
But Arthur was already shaking his head. “No more objections,” he said. “No more arguments. I have the right to make these decisions, and this is my final answer.”
“Oh, you have the right to make all the decisions,” Isabella replied bitterly. “You make all the rules, don’t you? And all I do is follow them. But tell me, Arthur, where do you go when you disappear for hours at a time every day? You’re worried about me disappearing into the arms of another, but you’re always gone, and I’m not even permitted to ask questions about it. And meanwhile, all you had to do was ask me to dance with you and I would have been yours! Your need to control everything—that’s what makes my life such a misery. And I know there’s nothing I can do about it but go on living by these ever-increasing rules you choose to set for me because all I want is for my sister to find a happy marriage, and you may be her only hope of doing that. But on nights like this, I can’t help feeling that if there was any other way, I would take it!”
The carriage had come to a stop, and Isabella didn’t wait to be helped out. She opened the door and climbed out herself, hurried up the path into the manor, and was up the stairs by the time she heard Arthur and Aunt Olivia coming inside.
The ball had been enjoyable, but she should have known that this was what she would face when it was over. She shouldhave realized that Arthur would have nothing but anger and criticism for her. She had allowed herself to believe that things were different between them now—that some sort of connection had been forged. But it was clear to her that she had put too much faith in that idea. Perhaps he had found her momentarily desirable that night in her bedroom or in the library, but that didn’t mean hecaredfor her. It was just a momentary thing.
And Isabella felt more convinced than ever that Arthur was seeing another woman when he left the house every day. It all added up. Why would he be so jealous unless the idea of betrayal was already on his mind? Why would he need to discuss business with Lord Henrough at a party if they had done so during the day? The more she thought about that idea, the less sense it made—he must have been talking to Lord Henrough at the party because theyhadn’tspoken at any other time! It all made perfect sense. Perfect but terrible sense.
He was in love with someone else, and he would get away with it because he was a man. And she would be locked away in whatever little fragments of her life he decided to allow her to keep—when he had finished making rules upon rules to confine her.
It was all so dreadful, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Aunt Olivia had seemed ready to take her side, but even she couldn’t sway Arthur in the end.
Isabella wished desperately that there was something she could do. The worst part of it all was that, in spite of herself and in spite of all she understood about her situation, she still had feelings for Arthur. She simply couldn’t help it, as much as she would have liked to.
It would have been so much easier to despise him—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She still cared for him, and she still wanted him to care for her. And not only because it would have been more pleasant to have a caring husband. It was him she wanted.
And she felt farther than she ever had from the possibility of having him.
CHAPTER 24
Arthur lay awake feeling positively sick with regret.
How had he allowed things to go so wrong? He hadn’t meant today to go the way it had at all. He had wanted to ensure that Isabella had a good time—but that hadn’t happened. Or rather, it clearly had, but then he had immediately ruined it for her. And why? Because he couldn’t control his own jealousy. How humiliating that was for him.
And on the ride home, she had certainly implied that he was seeing other women. She had compared the fact that he left her home alone every day to the fact that she had spent tonight dancing with other gentlemen. She couldn’t really believe that he would do something like that, could she? She must have been speaking out of anger. It was the only way he could make sense of things.
Sleep refused to come. Eventually, he got out of bed and went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Perhaps that would help him relax, and then he would be able to settle his mind.
But when he got to the kitchen, he was met with a surprise—she was already there.
She looked up at the sight of him, and for a moment, he just looked back. Why did they have to keep crossing paths at night? There was something so alluring about her with her hair loose around her shoulders and her nightclothes on. It was enough to make him forget all about the way they had quarreled on the way home.
And then he remembered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “Shall I leave you in peace?”
“It’s your kitchen,” she told him. “Maybe I should be the one to go.”
“No,” he told her. “You live here. This is your kitchen every bit as much as it is mine, Isabella. You don’t have to go any more than I do.”
“There’s room enough for both of us, I suppose,” she said. “I was just making some tea.”
