Page 24 of Her Beast of a Duke
Isabella nodded her assent through each room, unable to stop wondering why the northern turret was closed off. Still, the tour continued. She saw the dining room, which appeared to be used infrequently, if the lack of light was anything to go by.
Mrs. Tisdale glanced at her as if understanding her questions, but offered no explanation and instead led her further toward the grand gardens.
Once the tour was finished, Isabella was taken back to her rooms.
“Is there a particular reason why we have come back here?” Isabella said, frowning. “Should I not be in the dining hall?”
“His Grace has requested a different dining arrangement for tonight,” Mrs. Tisdale told her with a wince.
She curtsied and was gone, leaving Isabella wondering what on earth was happening in Rochdale Castle. With its dark corridors and mysterious locked passageways, mingled with the unexpected open doors, she didn’t know what to make of it.
Within the hour, she was disrupted from penning a letter to Hermia by a knock on her door. A maid brought her dinner, laden on a silver tray. The maid curtsied and left, leaving Isabella staring down at a fine dinner.
A very lonely, isolated dinner, her first of many, she assumed. She had hoped to spend at least her first night in the castledining with her new husband, but he had stayed true to his word. This marriage would not indulge. And although she had agreed, a lonely part of her flared in anger.
After she was done, she slammed her door shut and stormed to the connecting door.
She knocked once.
Twice.
“Enter,” the Duke’s deep voice came from within.
Isabella opened the door to find her husband at his writing desk. A tray of food was already finished, left on the windowsill above his desk. He barely turned at the creak of the door and did not look at her when she entered.
“Your Grace,” she said sharply, unsure of how to greet him.
He still didn’t look up from whatever he was writing.
Frustrated, Isabella went on. “Why are we not dining together? You insisted on dancing together as a betrothed couple, so why not dine together as a married one?”
Without sparing her even a glance, he answered, “There is no reason for us to endure one another’s company. Was the long carriage ride not enough for you, Lady Isabella?”
“Will you not even look at me?”
With a heavy sigh, the Duke finally looked up at her and arched a brow.
“I wish to dine together,” she said.
“I have eaten already.”
Isabella fought back another wave of irritation. “Are you always like this?”
“Do not presume to understand me, Duchess.”
“A duchess ought to dine with her duke,” she told him, her words clipped. “I did not marry you just to dine alone.”
“Indeed. You married me to save our reputations, and while that is happening, we do not have to endure one another more than necessary. We can scarcely be in the same room without bickering, so why should we invite more of that?”
Isabella glowered at him. “You have brought me here, and yet you will insist on making me lonely.”
“If you lack company, you can speak with your lady’s maid.”
“Oh,” she scoffed. “Is that so?”
“Or perhaps you might invite your friend for tea, as you ladies of thetonenjoy doing.” He turned to her fully now, still not standing from his chair.
“Not because of my ladylike enjoyments. Besides, why would I want to invite my friend to a place that is draped in darkness?” she snapped back. “Are you truly so afraid of the light in your own home? Even in here, there are shadows everywhere.”
