Page 97 of Her Beast of a Duke
“I could not turn down another chance to see you,” she explained to Isabella as they all climbed into the carriage. “When the Duchess mentioned needing new dresses due to…” She laughed and nodded at Hermia’s considerably heavy, pregnant stomach. “I could not pass up the chance to go with you. But I hear there are sweets to be bought.”
“Indeed, there are,” Isabella said, trying to sound chirpier than she had in days. That morning, the pain had still beenunbearable, buried in her chest, but it was easier to breathe through. “Is that not right, Phoebe?”
“It is! We are buying all the sweets available. Papa said I can.”
Hermia laughed, and behind Phoebe’s head, shook her head to sayno.It made Isabella smile a little easier. Soon, their carriage pulled off toward the center of London, and they immersed themselves in the busy street.
“How about this?” Isabella said to Phoebe. “You go and help Hermia pick out a beautiful gown alongside Lady Mary, and I shall run my own errands. I do love my candles, so I must visit the chandler. When I return, I will show you the ones I bought. How about that?”
“Oh, I can come with you,” Mary said eagerly, already moving forward.
But being there, being around the ton, and feeling eyes on her, Isabella knew her mind was slipping, and she didn’t have the energy to pretend to be all right or speak. Mustering a smile, she waved her friend off.
“I will be fine,” she assured her. “I just crave a moment alone, but I will return quickly to help you choose some dresses.”
“Are you certain?” Mary frowned, her mouth turning downwards.
Isabella was already nodding, urging them on.
Secretly, she also did not want to keep being the miserable lady bringing down their excitement. Hermia was welcoming new life, and Mary was on the cusp of her own match with an admirer she had not named or spoken greatly about, likely out of respect for Isabella’s heartbreak.
The two of them deserved their joy, and Isabella didn’t want to get in the way of that.
Parting ways, Isabella instead ducked into the sweet shop several buildings down from the modiste’s and began browsing the array of jars filled with colors of every kind of sweet.
She didn’t know why she went there instead of the chandlers, but soon, she had her eye on a rhubarb-flavored treat, trying not to think about her sweet-toothed husband and how delighted he would be in the shop when the bell chimed above the door.
Isabella didn’t look up, not caring to know who had entered, and hoping it was not somebody who would recognize her, but then a voice cut through the shop, and her body froze.
“Your Grace.” Slowly, she turned to face Lord Stanton, her eyes wide. “Heaven, I am ever so glad to bump into you here! I did think it was you I saw coming in here, so I just had to cross the street to speak with you.”
“Lord Stanton?—”
“Do call me David, Isabella; we are well acquainted enough.” His smile was smooth, pristine, a charm she had long learned to overlook.
“I shall continue calling you Lord Stanton, as is proper,” she insisted.
“I heard about that nasty business with your beastly Duke of a husband,” Lord Stanton said, cutting off her next words that would have been to excuse herself from his company. “You must be feeling ever so frightened.”
“I am not.”
“And yet rumor has it throughout the ton that you are currently staying with your sister at the Branmere townhouse, and not your own. Something must have happened.” Before Isabella could tell him to stop pushing, Lord Stanton stepped back and flicked his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I have learned my lesson about speaking ill of your husband, and after what happened with Lord Henry, I shall not dare. I am here to speak aboutus.”
“Us?” Isabella echoed weakly. “There is no us.”
“I know,” he sighed, shaking his head, and the regret on his face, for a moment, almost fooled her in an empathetic way rather than one of longing. “Isabella, I was a fool. I truly was. I feared love when it was in my grasp. I feared commitment when you were standing right there, waiting for me at the altar. I feared too much and did not trust my cards to fall where I hoped they would, so I ran before I gave us a true chance.”
Isabella could only stare back at him, unimpressed and unfazed. The last time he had attempted such a thing, she had fought back with words, but she could not find them now. Now, she simply didn’t care enough. Not to retort, and not to dismiss him or excuse herself. She only turned her back on him, outright ignoring him.
“You must be hurting,” Lord Stanton continued. “First my rejection, and now your husband’s, and?—”
He stopped as soon as the bell above the shop chimed once more, and this time, Isabella did look up. Mary entered, her eyes narrowed on Lord Stanton as she made a quick beeline for Isabella. Slipping her arm through hers, Mary pulled her close.
“I do believe your acquaintances were looking for you, Lord Stanton,” Mary said, her dismissal clear. She did what Isabella did not have the energy to do, and Isabella was grateful. “I suggest you meet with them once more before they crowd this lovely, sweet shop.”
Lord Stanton only curled his lip at the push of dismissal before he turned on his heel and slunk out of the shop, leaving Isabella slumping against Mary.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
