CHAPTER 22
“Is the Duchess taking her breakfast in her chambers again this morning?” Evan asked the butler, who passed him a sympathetic smile before nodding.
“I am afraid so, Your Grace.”
Even the house staff had noticed the tension between the couple. It had been days since they had last spoken—after she had dropped the revelation of a lifetime to him.
An heir. She wanted one.
Ambrose had been correct in his prediction—the closer they got, the more she would want from him. But now it was too late to diminish the feelings that he had for her. Theywereclose, but he would never be able to give her the thing that she wanted most.
At first, Evan had decided to keep himself busy with work so as not to think about the matter altogether. But it had quicklybecame clear to him that there was no running away from this. She had occupied his mind constantly.
“This is getting ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself, looking at the empty seat that Isadora was meant to occupy. It was childish for them to ignore one another like this.
The silence was eating him alive.
And so, he decided to finally put his foot down and put an end to the madness. Evan left the breakfast table and made his way upstairs. It did not take him long to find her, for she was exactly where he had expected her to be.
Cooped up in a dingy corner of the library, her nose buried in a book.
“Isadora,” Evan announced loudly as he made his way towards her. She did not look up—instead, she began to read with even more focus, as though she had not even heard him.
“You have decided to punish me with silence, then?” He moved even closer. Seeing her after several days invoked a strange sort of feeling inside of him, and all that he wished to do was hold her in his arms.
But Isadora remained nonplussed. She gave no response. She merely turned a page, as though he was nothing more than a fly buzzing around her ear.
Evan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Very well,” he drawled. “I shall just have to speak enough for the both of us.” He leaned against the side of the bookshelf nearest to her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I have decided that I do not like this arrangement, sweetheart,” he said flatly. “That would be putting it lightly even. I’ve decided I quiteloatheit.”
That seemed to get her attention. She peeked at him from behind her book. “Unfortunate to hear that, Your Grace, but you’re the one who’s brought it on yourself.
Your Grace.Never before had those words—meant to be a sign of utmost respect—felt more like an insult.
“Will you put that damned book down already?” He moved to remove the book from her hands, but she dodged him just in time.
“No,” came the reply. “I am quite interested to know what is happening in it, and I do not wish to talk to you, so this whole exercise is quite pointless.”
“It is more interesting to you than talking to your husband?” He was hovering over her now. “Really? That lifeless ink-stained collection of words is your preference over me?”
She held the book even higher. “At this moment, yes.”
Evan’s patience snapped. In one swift motion, he grabbed the book —and pulled it straight from her grasp.
“I beg your pardon!” she gasped, her hands flying up to stop him, but Evan had already stood up, stepping back just enough to keep the book out of her reach.
“Give that back,” she demanded, moving to stand.
He merely lifted the book higher, holding it above her head.
“Not until you look me in the eye and admit that this entire display is childish,” he said, “which for someone who wishes to have a child of her own is rather alarming if you ask me.”
“What other way do you wish for me to act, Evan?” she demanded, her eyes ablaze with frustration. “When you have rejected me so cruelly?”
“Isthatwhat you got out of our conversation?” Evan’s jaw tightened. “I did not reject you.”
