And the study sank into a heavy, suffocating quiet.
Isabella refused to hide in light of the scandal that had rocked the ton. She had done absolutely nothing wrong, so she wasn’t going to recoil like her husband had and give the people more to whisper about.
Even though her heart felt fractured, even though she had slept poorly for days and eaten little, she still attended the Laurels’ meetings. She stood firm before whispers, faced down rumors, and defended the group with a voice steadier than her spirit.
During one meeting, a lady nervously asked if they should cancel upcoming gatherings in light of the recent ‘incident.’
Isabella lifted her chin. “Absolutely not. We will continue exactly as planned. We adjust; we do not retreat.” Her tone was gentle but unyielding.
The Laurels looked at her as though she were a commander on a battlefield and nodded, agreeing amongst themselves.
Later, when she arrived home, Lady Kendrick caught her in the foyer.
“My dear,” she said softly, “if you wished, you might spend a day or two with your family. Only to ease the tension.”
Ease the tension. A delicate way of saying, escape the emptiness of her marriage for a little while.
Isabella swallowed and nodded.
“Perhaps… yes. I think that might be wise.”
Lady Kendrick squeezed her arm. “This is your home. Nothing is going to change that. And Cassian…” She hesitated. “He will come around.”
Isabella wished she believed that, but she smiled and nodded regardless.
The next morning, she departed Everthorne townhouse and rode toward Ironstone, her family estate. She had barelyregistered the journey there, but when the carriage pulled up before the grand stone steps, Isabella released a breath she had been holding for days, taking in the familiar scenery and somehow breathing better.
Christine came out first and greeted her the moment she entered, though Isabella could tell her stepmother saw the exhaustion in her eyes.
“You look pale,” Christine murmured, touching her arm. “Come, sit. I will fetch tea.”
As Isabella sank onto the drawing room sofa, Christine returned with a small smile. “I have arranged just the remedy.”
Isabella blinked. “What remedy?”
The door opened in that moment, and Beatrice entered with her usual elegance and a bright smile, though her eyes flashed with worry the moment they met Isabella’s.
“Bella,” Beatrice breathed, crossing the room in a heartbeat to embrace her tightly.
Christine excused herself quietly, leaving the twins alone.
Beatrice pulled back.
“I came as soon as I heard. Though apparently, there is no scandal after all. If anything…” She sniffed. “… Lord Falchester is being shamed to bits.”
A faint, incredulous laugh escaped Isabella’s lips. “Shamed?”
Beatrice nodded firmly. “Indeed. The ton believes he has not ‘recovered from his infatuation’ with you and wanted you regardless of your marriage. And your husband saw through his pitiful attempts and beat him accordingly.”
Isabella closed her eyes with relief. “I am thankful it turned out that way.”
Beatrice’s gaze narrowed. “Are you? Truly? Because you do not look relieved. You look…” Her voice softened. “You look rather heartbroken.”
Isabella swallowed, her throat tight. “I am not heartbroken.”
“You are lying.”
Of course, she was, and Beatrice saw through her lie. She looked down at her fingers, finding them more entertaining than responding to her sister.
