As she turned to look at herself in the mirror, it only became more evident.
Her cheeks were still flushed, although she did not know whether that had occurred as a consequence of dancing or from the duke’s kiss.
She took a deep breath, selected several pins from her vanity, and twisted up her hair, pinning it into place. Once that had been done, she walked to the windows and opened them, letting the cool night air into her room. She hoped that it would soon dispel the flush in her cheeks.
The last thing she wanted was a reminder of the night to linger any longer than necessary.
“Isabelle?” There came a soft knock at the door. “Mama said you were feeling unwell and came home early.”
“Come in,” Isabelle said as she crouched by the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire that was beginning to burn low.
Victoria entered the room, not saying a word as she helped Isabelle light the lamps and candles scattered about the chamber. Once their soft warm glow had lit the room, Victoria took a seat at the small corner breakfast table.
Though Isabelle desperately wanted to ask Victoria what she truly knew about the duke’s plot, the question dried up on her tongue when she looked at her friend. There wasn’t a cruel bone in Victoria’s body. She would never do or condone something as treacherous as her brother had done.
Isabelle sat across from her, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table. “Why did you not dance?”
Victoria looked down at her hands in her lap. “With my family’s reputation, do you think that gentlemen would wish to dance with me?”
“Your father may have been a horrid man who hurt his family, but that does not deny the fact that you are beautiful. Men can be simple creatures at times and beauty will often outweigh dowry size.”
“Once I marry, and you can marry for love, will there be less of an issue with you finding a man to fall in love with?”
“I suspect there shall not be much of an issue at all.”
Though Isabelle longed to run away and spend the rest of her life traveling Europe and studying art, evading all those who had wronged her, she knew that her wishes were merely a fantasy concocted from the depths of her anger and despair.
Running away was impractical. She would have no money to her name.
My dear friend is facing an uncertain future.
The duchy will fall to ruin.
Despite the fact that she was angrier than she had even been before, she still couldn’t find it in herself to turn her back on the duke.
However, if anyone were to ask, she would say that she was sealing her fate for Victoria.
Twenty-One
Isabelle woke the following morning filled with a refreshed resolve, although she had spent most of the night tossing and turning.
Each time she closed her eyes to sleep, all she could think about was that her father had betrayed her.
That, or the kiss with Windham.
Isabelle tossed back the sheets and swung herself across the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. The sun hadn’t yet crept over the horizon to shine into her windows, which gave her some additional time to be alone with her thoughts.
After donning a simple blue morning dress, she lit a small lamp and plodded down the hallway, down the stairs, through the garden doors and over to her little sanctuary.
Relief flooded through her the moment she shut the little greenhouse door.
She hung the lamp from a hook affixed to the ceiling. Its friendly glow cast just enough light for her to sketch out a painting on one of the canvases. Her pencil glided along its surface as she sketched out the Windham Castle port from memory.
It would be a gift for the duke when she was finally wed. Isabelle imagined that he could hang it in his study as a daily reminder of how he had wronged her and all she had done for his family.
Isabelle hummed to herself, then realized with dismay that it was the haunting melody from the night before, but she couldn’t erase it from her mind. She continued to repeat the tune as she poured paint onto her palette.
As she set her brush to the canvas, the red-orange streams of sunrise began to inch their way above the horizon. It was only then that she noticed the figure standing outside her greenhouse. Felix stood there forlornly with his hands in his pockets and Rose at his heels. The wiggly puppy indicated that she would rather be inside with Isabelle.
