Isadora glanced at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Penelope bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. “You have always taken care of me, Isadora. Always put my needs before your own. And now… I cannot help but feel as though you have done it again.”
“You are my responsibility,” Isadora reminded her gently.
“Yes but,” Penelope frowned, “perhaps you take the responsibility a tad too seriously.”
“There is no such thing,” Isadora said swiftly.
“Yes, there is,” Penelope emphasized. “Youmarriedhim for my sake as a trade for a favor. That is entirely too much, and I cannot possibly ask you for more. You have already done more than your fair share.”
Isadora smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I married him because it was the only way to ensure you would not end up in a miserable match. I would make the same choice again.”
Penelope shook her head quickly, her eyes filled with guilt. “But, Isadora, I never wanted?—”
Isadora squeezed her hand again. “I know, dearest. We did not choose the hand that we were dealt. There is no need for you to explain.”
Penelope’s lower lip trembled. “I do not want you to be unhappy,” she said earnestly.
Isadora hesitated a moment. The word had caught her off guard.
Unhappy.
Am I unhappy?It was such a loaded implication.
No. It wasn’t true. Evan frustrated her, irritated her, challenged her—but did he make her unhappy?
She had expected misery but had come to find something else entirely. It was not happiness per se—at least not yet, but it wasn’t anything bad either.
Just…unexpected.
She thought of the way he had fed her that bite of food just last night, the flicker of heat in his gaze, the way his voice wrapped around her like velvet when he called her sweetheart.
“I am not unhappy, Penelope,” she admitted at last. “It is not the life I imagined, but it is not so terrible.”
Penelope searched her face, looking for any sign of a lie.
“You are not unhappy,” Penelope repeated slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue, searching for deception.
Isadora huffed. “Must you sound so incredulous?”
Penelope gave her a pointed look. “Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that the same man you described as infuriating just moments ago is suddenly not making your life miserable.”
Isadora glanced away, focusing instead on the path ahead of them, lined with wildflowers and twisting vines.
“He still is,” she muttered. “But… that does not mean I am unhappy.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “That makes no sense. Surely you see the contradiction in your own words.”
“Contradictory is one way to phrase it.” Isadora let out a long breath, adjusting the lace at her sleeve. “I never said I understood it myself.”
“So, youdolike him,” Penelope said.
Isadora stumbled over her own feet.
“What? No.”
Penelope giggled, catching her balance with a hand on Isadora’s arm. “Oh, but you do. Surely there is some measure of fondness between the two of you.”
