fifteen
The sense of guilt never really left Isabella after the visit to Anthony, but promenading in the park with Patrick lightened her chest and chased away the darkness.
Patrick’s impeccable dark coat enhanced the brightness of his golden hair and his straight shoulders but also his pallor. Compared to his brother, he was slender and elegant although his gaunt cheeks worried her.
Mother and Helen walked next to her, but Helen hadn’t stopped looking worried since yesterday. The visit to Anthony had shaken her deeply. Likely, she was thinking about her future as a shunned duchess next to a probably disfigured husband. Not quite the fairy tale she’d dreamt of.
“The rioters of the West End Riots damaged Hyde Park as well,” Patrick said, pointing at a broken wooden bench. “How shameful. They destroyed the city, and for what? The Tories want to tax importations and facilitate exportation. The socialists think this practice will ruin the country and cause the rise of unemployment.”
“And who’s right in your opinion?” Isabella asked.
He flashed a crooked smile. “You’re asking the wrong brother. It’s enough that I know this much about politics. I swear nothing is more boring than laws and bills. Thank goodness, my brother has to deal with that.”
“But you help your brother with his work, don’t you?” Isabella asked. “Especially now.”
“Of course. Anthony needs me. It’s usually the other way around.” His tone became serious. “He’s my elder brother. He’s always protected me. When I was a boy, I used to play cricket in the big dining room in winter. Mother hated that I played inside. More than once, she forbade me to do it. I didn’t listen. So one day, I broke her favourite mirror. Anthony took the blame.”
“Why?”
“I’d received many warnings, and destroying the mirror would have been the last straw. Mother would have punished me severely had she known I was to blame. He had never done anything to anger my parents, so he took the responsibility for the damage.” He drew his eyebrows together. “I should have told the truth.”
“How does His Grace feel?” Helen asked. “I mean, is he in good spirits despite everything, or is he distraught?”
Patrick took his time to answer. “He’s strong. He isn’t complaining or showing us how much he’s suffering. But he’s changed his mind about a few projects he wanted to undertake in the future.”
By the manner in which he lowered his voice and slanted a glance at them, Isabella suspected the projects he mentioned were of the bridal nature.
“When is the duke ready to resume his normal life?” Helen asked.
Patrick hesitated before answering again. He’d always been chatty and quick to talk. His hesitation was likely due to the fact he wasn’t at liberty to answer freely.
“I don’t know. But it’ll take weeks, perhaps months, before he’ll resume his normal life.”
Only sorrow for Anthony overwhelmed Isabella. He didn’t strike her as a cheerful man who enjoyed people’s company as Patrick did, and the incident must have demoralised him further.
“I’ll be happy to visit him if he likes some company,” she said.
“Absolutely,” Helen chimed in. “We’ll be delighted.”
Patrick’s smile held only sadness. “When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”
Mother was flustered. “I hope we have the chance to see His Grace soon. My husband and I are leaving for Boston, heaven help me.”
“Boston? Are you really?” he asked.
Mother looked resigned. “My husband’s brother lives in Boston, and they do business together. If I think of all the coffee I’ll have to smell…We’ll be away for nearly a year.”
Patrick’s face remained deadpan. “I’m sure Anthony will be fully recovered by the time you return.”
* * *
Anthony forcedhimself not to grimace when the physician removed the bandages from around his head.
Eight weeks had passed since the incident. Weeks he’d spent at home, never setting foot outside. Weeks of medications, high fever, nausea, and few visits.
While he looked forward to getting rid of the bandages, he couldn’t deny being worried about his looks. He’d never cared much about his face, but if the pain he’d experienced matched the degree of damage, he would look like a monster.
“We’re almost done, Your Grace.” The physician gently peeled the last layer of gauze and bandage.
