“I—” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he voiced his thoughts out loud, taking a step back from her.
Isadora opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
“Well, this is quite the unexpected event,” he coughed, clearing his throat. “I would suggest that you forget this whole thing ever happened. I— well, good day to you.”
CHAPTER 17
He had kissed her.
And now he was gone, leaving her alone with feelings she didn’t understand and didn’t even know how to name.
She swallowed hard, her hands curling at her sides. She had returned back to her chambers to try and get a hold of herself.
“Your Grace—” The sound startled her, and she nearly fell off her bed.
Mrs. Wilson stood at the door, holding a silver tray with a single letter resting on top.
“My apologies,” the maid said, her lips twitching slightly. “I did not wish to startle you.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault. I’ve just been…” Isadora pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling slowly. “Well, I’ve just been a bit frazzled today. Nothing to do with you.”
Mrs. Wilson arched a brow but said nothing, stepping forward to offer the tray. “This arrived for you, and I was told that it was most urgent.”
“Urgent?” Isadora reached for the letter, breaking the seal in one fluid motion. As her eyes skimmed over the words, she nodded in understanding. “Oh, only Violet is capable of this.”
“I am not sure if I understand, Your Grace?” Mrs. Wilson said.
“It’s a dinner invitation.” Isadora smiled to herself, setting the letter aside. “Violet and Nicholas are hosting a dinner. They’ve requested our presence. Nothing urgent, of course, but very urgent according to Violet.”
“I see. A dinner sounds lovely, Your Grace.”
“Yes,” Isadora said, more to herself than to her maid. A dinner. A proper evening in proper company. Something to occupy her mind.
Thatsounded like something she needed. Badly.
Mrs. Wilson gave her a sidelong glance, noticing the Duchess pacing nervously down the hallway. “If you do you not mind measking, Your Grace, is everything well with you? I have noticed that you’ve been restless all evening.”
Isadora continued her pacing, ignoring the observation.
How would I even begin to explain?
“I suppose I have,” she said instead.
“A dinner will do you good,” the maid noted, not pushing the matter further.
“Yes. It will be… a welcome change.”
Mrs. Wilson studied her for a moment longer before dipping into a small curtsy. “Shall I have your gown prepared?”
“Yes. The deep green one.”The color that Evan likes.
“As you wish.” Mrs. Wilson excused herself, and the door closed with a soft click behind her.
Isadora let out a slow breath, smoothing her hands over her lap. She did not know how she had found herself in a situation where she could not stop thinking of Evan—all she knew was that, now that she had, she could not bring herself to stop.
Evan barely looked up when Isadora entered his study. He was sitting at his desk, his sleeves rolled up, a stack of documents spread before him.
Busy as usual,she thought to herself. The two had not spoken to each other since the kiss, and Isadora was worried that things might get awkward.
