He arched an eyebrow as she finally looked at him, her heart fluttering. “Is that your second question?”
“It is.”
Straightening in his chair, he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. It was the first time the duke had ever looked genuinely nervous. “I have enough money left for Victoria’s dowry and that is it. There is no money for Evangeline or Hyacinth if I do not fulfill the deal with your father.”
“And yet you brought two people on?”
“Third question?”
She pressed her lips together, giving him a withering look before nodding. “Yes, that is my third question.”
“Milton wronged them. The least I can do after the kindness they have shown to us is to give them a job while I can still offer it. If Mr. Peregrine can make my farmland abundantly productive again, that would go a long way to putting pounds back in my pockets.”
Isabelle said nothing, turning Felix’s words over in her mind. She was surprised by the duke’s admissions. She had thought he was cold and detached to everyone other than his sisters, yetthese weren’t the words and actions of such a man. He seemed to care for the strangers that had freely given them shelter and food and she was now uncertain of his true character.
Perhaps he was a kinder man than she had given him credit for.
She dealt another round of cards and they played until he won and looked at her with a mischievous smile. The candle flickering between them dimmed, the house growing darker as the night grew longer. The wind had stopped howling outside and it felt impossibly warm in the little cottage.
“Now you owe me truths,” the Duke said. “And I mean to collect.”
Isabelle reached behind her and took the pins out of her hair, setting them on the table. She had worn them for the better part of the day, and she was certain that the headache they were starting would only be worsened by the duke’s questioning.
Windham leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Are you truly this adverse to marrying, or is it only to vex me?”
“Vexing you may be a hobby, but I do not wish to marry. I had more than one would-be suitor in America who opened his mouth and wished me to be his housewife.”
“Do you not wish to spend your days at home cooking pies and raising children?”
Isabelle combed her fingers through her long tresses, loosening them and allowing the headache to ease. “Is that your second question, Your Grace?”
“I suppose it would be better that you call me Windham when we are in situations such as these.”
“Ones where I couldn’t possibly embarrass you?”
He smirked. “Precisely.”
“Then, Windham, please tell me if that was your second question or not.” Her heart skipped a beat, the familiar name foreign on her tongue. “And you shall call me Isabelle, but only when we are alone. I would not have others thinking that we are on friendly terms.”
He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes boring into hers. “It was, Isabelle.”
She hated the way her body seemed to come to life, tingles spreading through her toes and fingers until she finally looked away from him.
“Then you should know that I love baking and children, however, I do not believe that those are the only two facets of my personality. I also do not wish to be reduced to such a demeaning position once I am married. If I am to find a husband, then I want a man who recognizes who I am and what I am passionate about.”
“Passions are important to you?” he asked, his tone low and husky as he leaned closer to her, picking up one of her hair pins and twirling it around on the table.
“Without our passions we are nothing. Motherhood will not change what I love, no more than fatherhood would change what a man loves.”
“Then you are open to marriage as long as you have a husband who is willing to allow you to continue to be yourself.”
“I doubt that such a man exists.”
Windham’s smile faltered, but there was still a mischievous look in his eyes. “I fear you may be correct.”
Isabelle set the cards to one side, not interested in playing another round. Not when she could spend the rest of the night talking to him. She loved the deep timber of his voice and the way he stared at her like she was the only thing in the room.
The branches tapping against the window did not draw his attention away from her, nor did the sound of Evangeline sighing in her sleep or when the fire grew low in the hearth. Nothing took his gaze away from her.
