Page 89 of Her Beast of a Duke
She was not enough; her touch was not enough, and she couldn’t reach him.
“Let me lead you out of your shadows, my duke, my husband,” she whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with her desperation. “You are not what they say.”
Another growl of warning came from him, and she finally reared away, her eyes wide, stunned.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Oscar could not claw through the fog in his own mind. He knew he needed to, knew he was causing himself more damage, but heavens, he could not. He was lost, trapped in his own mental prison, and not even Isabella’s pleas could break him free.
Let me lead you out of your shadows.
The words registered, but he wanted to helplessly beg, to show her that this sort of shadow could not be broken free from. His stomach rolled with the sheer pressure of his fury; he couldn’t shake it off. All he saw was this pathetic weasel of a man who spewed hateful, vile words about both Isabella and Oscar, andhe had to pay.
An apology was not enough. Oscar needed to make him feel the pain he had caused.
But then a cry went out—a cry he knew, for it was his wife, and it was of his name.
“Oscar Guildeforde.” Oscar gasped for breath, clawing free for a moment, long enough to see how she had reared away at his warning growl.
Heavens, he had growled at her inwarning.As if to sayStop, for I will hurt you too.
He had not meant it in that way, but the moment he turned to look at her, he saw the fear in her eyes. The fear he had tried to shield her from with weeks of silence and retreating into himself, forcing her away from him.
He had been weak. He’d let her get close, and now his actions had caused her pain. She had not been worried about this ball, and he had ruined that. She stared at him, pale and wide-eyed.
As soon as he saw that, Oscar snapped back into himself. He saw the frightened looks on those around them in the ballroom; he saw the hands over mouths, the fans snapping, and there was a lady being supported by a gentleman as if she had fainted.
Fear.Fear.That was all Oscar caused. Fear and pain and terror, just like in his parents’ faces when he returned from war. Just like Isabella’s face the day he had first stepped into view on the balcony at Edmund’s ball.
You are nothing but a beast. It is all you will ever be.
His father’s voice came back to him, and Oscar immediately released Lord Henry. He did not deserve to be released, but Isabella did not deserve to fear the man who had sworn his devotion to her. Ice covered the fog in his brain, and he stood back, snarl fading, body going rigid. He took two steps back, out of the man’s space, and he noticed again how Isabella stepped back too.
“Oscar,” she whispered, her voice shaking. When she reached for him, her hand shook, and it made Oscar nauseous to see what he had caused. “Come. Come with me. Let us leave. Let me get you somewhere safe and?—”
He didn’t let her finish. He was already walking away, jerking his head for her to follow. There was nothing in his head but deep self-loathing. His father was right; the ton was right. How did Isabella still not see it?
Breaking out into the fresh night air did little to help, and he threw himself into their carriage. He waited only long enough for Isabella to step inside the carriage before he slammed a fist into the ceiling to order the carriage to pull away. Not to their townhouse, no. He wanted to be out of this heaven-forsaken city.
“Where are we going?” Isabella asked. “Our townhouse is the other way.”
When Oscar only stared ahead, not at her, she spoke again. “We are going to the castle. You are retreating into your darkness, are you not?”
Her voice was hard, and he took it as judgment. Judgment he deserved.
He turned away to look emotionlessly out of the window. Yes, he was retreating into his darkness, but it was not a physical one to conceal hishideous scars. It was in his head to conceal all he had done and all he was and all he would ever be.
When they finally arrived at Rochdale Castle, Oscar stormed ahead, but Isabella caught him by the elbow. He shook her off easily and walked upstairs to his chamber. He slammed the door shut behind him, but she slipped into his room through their connecting door.
“Do not order me to leave,” she warned, but Oscar was braced against his writing desk, staring down at the dark wood. It reminded him of watching the cabinet in the drawing room the night his parents had poisoned him. He remembered the wood scars spinning, wondering why he suddenly feltwrong.He stared down at the desk now, trying to ground himself, but he could not. Heavens, he was so terrible that his own parents had tried to rid themselves of him permanently.
“Oscar,” she said, her voice commanding. “Oscar,speak to me, for goodness’ sake!”
He only stared down at the wood, heaving.
Her hands hit his shoulders, and that jolted something in him. “Speak to me.I am your wife! I am not one of the ton you can ignore or threaten. I am your Duchess, Oscar. Speak. To. Me.”
“Fine,” he roared, spinning, and Isabella didn’t even move. She stood firmly before him, too close, too close for comfort.Get away, he wanted to order.Get away from the spiraling, vicious mess that I am.“You want me to speak,wife,then I will. Do you see now? This is who I am. Heavens, Isabella, I can pleasure you with the same hands that I can and have used to kill a man. I can sit with you and speak openly about my past, but it all comes back to this: who I am, and that is not your gentle husband. It is not the man you polish for the ton, or for your sisters to protect them from the truth of your misery living with me.
