Page 56 of Married to the Icy Duke
Isaac squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Charlotte on the insides of his eyelids, standing in the bath with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, a drying sheet clutched around her like a ridiculous little robe. Want coiled in his chest. Hewantedto wrap her in his arms. Hewantedto kiss her,wantedto pull away that sheet and toss it across the room.
In short, he wantedher.
That, as one might imagine, was going to be a serious problem.
Isaac dropped his forehead to his crossed wrists, resting on the railing, and breathed in deeply.
What on earth have I gotten myself into?
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Tristan heaved a sigh.
“Come on, old friend. Let’s go to one of the sparring rooms, shall we? You can work all of this out, and perhaps tell me just what, exactly, is going on.”
Isaac nodded, straightening up, and wordlessly followed his friend along the mezzanine to a narrow, private doorway at the other end. It had been too long since he’d sparred properly. Perhaps his worry over Tommy’s health had distracted him.
One thing was clear, however—Isaac wasnotgoing to tell Tristan what had gone on in that washroom.
The sparring rooms at the clubhouse were only open to certain members. Members whoweregiven access were required to act like real gentlemen, not thugs, and they had to be talented at boxing already.
At the very least, the proprietors wanted to know that there wouldn’t be a stream of clumsy, avoidable injuries. They didn’t want the fighting to make its way back to the clubhouse floor, either. No sore losers were permitted to fight, no men given to violence, and nobody who could not betrusted.
There was one boxing ring in each room. Generally, a referee would wait, hired specifically to watch closely any matches that went on. However, the hour was early, and there was no referee yet.
That was no trouble for Tristan and Isaac, of course. Often, when they fought, there was no clear winner. It was all about tactics, footwork, and clever sparring, rather than knock-out blows and such.
“Lady Charlotte is on your mind, I can tell,” Tristan remarked, quite suddenly, about a minute into their first round.
“And how am I meant to respond to that?” Isaac shot back, neatly aiming a jab, which Tristan ducked. “She’s in my house. I am going to marry her.”
“Affection in marriage, I’ve been told, is entirely natural,” Tristan grunted, dancing around the ring on the outside, carefully out of reach. “If you’re learning some fondness for her, that is a good thing. It’ll keep you happy. It’ll keepherhappy, too, and heaven knows she needs some of that. Happiness, I mean.”
Isaac let loose a shallow jab once more, and this time it caught Tristan on the jaw. He staggered back, disoriented for only a split second, and gave his head a little shake.
“Nice shot,” he muttered, a smile spreading across his face. “I assume you took exception to what I said.”
Isaac clenched his jaw. “I never wanted a bride.”
“Nobody is forcing you to take one.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “Perhaps not, but I have thought long and hard, and it will be the right thing for Tommy. Sybella likes her, too. And I suppose this marriage will be a good thing for Charlotte, too. If I were to call it off, everybody would be unhappy.”
“Would you be unhappy if you called it off?”
Isaac blinked, taken aback. Tristan had a way of asking sharp, insightful questions that cut to a person’s core. He seemed to askthequestions, the ones that you never knew you needed to hear.
In that instant of disorientation, Isaac dropped his guard, just a little. Tristan darted forward, delivered a one-two jab to Isaac’s chin and darted back, leaving his friend reeling.
“God, Tristan!” Isaac snapped, lifting a gloved hand.
“We’re still boxing,” Tristan responded mildly. “I still want to win. We can always stop and chat instead. I have no objections to that. But I know you, and I know that the moment your mind is fully disengaged, you’ll close down and insist that nothing is wrong, everything is fine, and that there is nothing, nothing at all to discuss.”
“That isn’t true.”
“It is, but let’s not waste breath on arguing about it. So, shall I repeat my question? Would you be happy or unhappy if you canceled the wedding?”
Isaac breathed in. “I don’t know. That’s the plain fact. I don’t know. Are you happy now?”
He aimed another punch at Tristan. His friend dodged it easily, chuckling.
