sixteen
Weeks had passed since Isabella’s visit to Gloucester House, and she hadn’t seen Anthony once.
Everyone said he had recovered well, but for some reason, he didn’t receive anyone or go out. Between his work and family matters, he had to be busy. After her first visit with Mother and Helen, she’d tried to see him a few times with no success, and while she didn’t expect special treatment from him, she couldn’t deny her disappointment at the constant rejections of her visits or lack of answers to her letters. Helen had tried to meet him as well and failed.
The infection was gone, he wasn’t risking his life, and yet she had no idea what he was doing and why he didn’t want to see her.
Instead, she had spent a lot of time with Patrick. Long promenades and rides in the park had become their routine. Not a word about a possible marriage had ever been mentioned, and she had no clue as to what Anthony was thinking. Also, because Patrick never, ever answered any questions regarding his brother.
In the hallway in her home, she tied the bonnet under her chin, ready to meet Patrick for an afternoon tea.
Lawson helped her don her capelet. “Another meeting with Lord Patrick.”
“It means nothing. He needs a distraction from his family’s trouble, and we’re good friends.” Although she enjoyed the easy harmony between them and his humour.
Patrick was an uncomplicated, charming gentleman. A bit flippant, but his company didn’t carry the burden of being with a powerful duke.
“Are you going to see Patrick?” Helen asked, going down the stairs.
“We’ll have tea together in his house. Lawson will come with me. Do you need her?”
“No. I’m going with Mother to Lady Violet’s house. She’s going to introduce me to the Earl of Westbury.” Helen pinched her cheeks in front of the mirror until they were rosy.
Isabella stopped adjusting her hat. “You’re searching for a new suitor.”
Oddly enough, a tiny flare of relief warmed her chest. Helen was moving forwards. She wasn’t interested in the duke anymore. And in Helen’s defence, Anthony had vanished from their social life without a word.
Oh, well. He had his reason, but he didn’t want to marry Helen. Right now, he likely didn’t want to marry anyone.
“Mother insists,” Helen said. “The duke has become a recluse. Mother and Father are going to leave for Boston, and she can’t negotiate my marriage with the duke unless he comes out of his house and decides to talk to me again.”
“Let’s go, darling.” Mother hurried to the entry hall in her best coat. “We can’t stay for too long. I want you to have an extra piano lesson this week.”
Helen’s facial muscles tightened, and for a moment, Isabella believed her sister was going to talk back. “Another lesson, Mother? I spent more time at the piano than ever.”
Mother pointed a finger at her. “You played awfully the other day at Lady Theodora’s house. Everyone noticed that.”
Helen pressed her lips together. “I told you I didn’t feel well, but you insisted on making me play.”
“You must learn to play well even when you’re sick. I’ll see you later, Isabella,” Mother said as the footman opened the door for Mother. “The earl is such a handsome gentleman. Let’s hope you don’t ruin everything as you did…”
The rest of Mother’s words was cut off when the footman shut the door.
Helen had a point. Anthony didn’t even reply to her letters. Not that Isabella could blame him, and Helen’s urgency to get married was nothing new.
Lawson sat in front of her in the carriage. “You would prefer your mother’s company, I guess.”
“Tosh. Helen’s meeting is the priority, and I love your company.”
Lawson had been more present in her life than Mother. But Mother being with Helen meant they didn’t want to invest more time in the duke. The marriage market worked as any other market from that point of view. Once a product disappeared from the shelf, the customers searched for a replacement.
There was something cynical about that, though.
Patrick beamed when he saw her, his handsome face brightening. She smiled back, taking his arm to enter the sitting room flooded with sunlight.
She inhaled. The buttery scent of the biscuits and pastries teased her senses. Lawson took a chair next to the window.
“How’s Anthony?” Isabella asked. She always did, even though the answers were clipped at best, and vague at worst.
