“Tell me.”
Isabella hesitated, but Beatrice’s hand closed around hers in the gentle, familiar way only she could offer.
“Tell me,” Beatrice repeated, raw concern in her eyes.
So, Isabella did.
“It all began at Lady Darby’s winter ball. He misunderstood the look on my face and thought I was afraid of him. But when I went to him to let him know it was nothing like that, he pushed me away. It has been days since then, Bea, but my husband won’t see me. And Lord knows, I have tried to get through to him, but he has made it impossible.
Beatrice’s eyes glistened as she listened.
“It aches, walking through the same house without seeing even his shadow.”
“Oh, Bella,” Beatrice whispered, wrapping her arms around Isabella. “I had no idea.”
Isabella leaned into her sister’s embrace, but even warmth and comfort did little to ease the emptiness in her chest.
Beatrice tried distracting her afterward, talking of dresses, gossip from the ton, her toddler’s amusing mishaps. Isabella laughed when expected and nodded where appropriate, but each smile felt thin.
Each breath felt heavy, and she was coming to terms that nothing, not tea, not conversation, not the softness of home, could fill the void inside her.
She realized with a quiet, aching clarity that she missed her husband. Terribly.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“It is tonight,” Lady Kendrick said softly, her voice warm with pride. “You have worked so very hard, my dear. Both of you have.” She paused, her eyes darting from Isabella’s reflection to Beatrice’s with tender eyes. “I hope tonight turns out magical.”
Isabella managed a smile, though it did not fully rise to her cheeks.
“I hope so too,” she replied, her tone light though her heart weighed heavily beneath the silk bodice of her gown.
Beatrice, who stood just behind her, tightened her hold on Isabella’s hand in gentle, wordless reassurance.
The twins had been dear companions all week, planning, arranging, and guiding the Laurels through every detail of the charity ball they were hosting. Seeing how downtrodden Isabella was during her brief visit to Ironstone, Beatrice decided shewould take on the role of Isabella’s assistant, simply to make sure Isabella was back to herself, doing all she wanted to do.
At first, Isabella had thought it a joke until two days later, Beatrice appeared at Everthorne townhouse, a chip in her step and a wide smile on her face.
“I left my husband and child for you. You’d better smile in two days!” Beatrice had told her as they locked in an embrace.
Isabella couldn’t deny the lilt of happiness she felt seeing her sister. Lady Kendrick, of course, was just as delighted, happy to have the two Hunton sisters under her care.
Lady Kendrick had declared them a formidable pair, saying there was no reason why Beatrice could not join in the preparations for the charity ball, and Isabella had been inclined to agree, except that a constant ache gnawed beneath each accomplishment.
Nearly two weeks. It had been nearly two weeks under the same roof, and she had not seen her husband even in passing shadows. Two weeks, and Cassian had retreated from her as completely as if he were not her husband but a ghost drifting aimlessly through corridors she could not reach. She had felt him in the walls, in the shift of a door at dusk, in the faintest creak of his study floor, in his request for more whiskey, but she had not seen him with her eyes.
Beatrice must have sensed the shift in her breathing, for she squeezed Isabella’s fingers gently.
“Come,” she said. “Stand with me. We should give Lady Kendrick a moment to make her way downstairs, and then we may occupy your time with something far more pleasant than worry.”
Isabella nodded, though her throat felt tight. Lady Kendrick excused herself, humming softly as she left the room, her small steps fading down the hallway. The moment the door closed, Beatrice released a breath.
“You need not pretend with me,” she said, tilting her head in that intuitive, sisterly way. “Your smile has been trembling at the edges for days.”
Isabella attempted another smile, this one even weaker. “I am trying. You know I am.”
“I know,” Beatrice whispered, brushing a loose dark curl away from Isabella’s temple. “And it shall be well. Tonight will help.”
She said it firmly, though her eyes carried concern.
