Page 93 of Her Beast of a Duke
“You are always welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” Hermia told her, stroking her hair comfortingly. Isabella let herself stay like that for a long moment, just feeling the supportive embrace. Once, she and Hermia had bickered terribly, both of them being the older daughters, carrying the burdens their mother placed upon them in different ways.
Yet there she was, holding Isabella, because she knew what it was like.
“Just please tell me,” Isabella whispered, pulling back. Her voice broke. “Please tell me how to stop this wound from aching as much as it does.”
“If your husband is anything like mine was, then he will come to his senses,” Hermia assured her, but Hermia did not know what Oscar had gone through, the things he still hated himself for.
Then again, Isabella did not know everything about Charles.
“And when he does, you must make him grovel as much as possible. It will hurt now, Isabella. It will hurt terribly, and it will hurt for as long as this silence and tension are maintained, but itwillend. You can gather yourself here, heal the wound as much as you can with space, and when he is ready, I am certain Oscar will want to chase you back into his life. For what it is worth, I am furious with him for even making you cry one tear. In fact, I ought to ask Charles to have a weighty discussion with him.”
Isabella sniffed, laughing sadly. “No. No, I do believe that could make things worse.”
“I just hate to see my sister in so much pain.”
“As you said, there will be an end to it.”
“Yes, but you do not have to pretend around me. Cry, scream, throw something if you wish to. Curse your husband to every end, for Heaven knows I will as your older sister. Charles has space in the stables where you can throw some of the hay around. It is not much, but it can get out some anger in a good way. A harmless way.”
Isabella nodded, sitting back into the cushion and drinking more of her wine.
She thought of Oscar in his northern turret, wondering if he had locked himself up there. She thought of the room where they had tried to make new memories, and now those memories could be tainted too. She thought of the gallery where he had roared at her to get out. And then the next time, he had walked her through his past.
“Hermia,” Isabella murmured, her eyes cast downward. “Am I to blame? Do… do you think he has reacted this way because I am somehow not enough to combat everything he is dealing with? Why am I not enough for him to speak to me about it all?”
“Isabella,no.” Hermia’s voice was stern, and she cupped Isabella’s face to force her gaze to meet hers. “You are not to blame. Oscar has his demons, and he has taken them out on you emotionally. You do not deserve that, and while I am angry at him, he himself does not deserve to put himself through this, either. I wish we could slap men like that sometimes. Heaven help me, I know that sounds terrible, but I wish we could, if only to see if it puts some sense into them.”
Despite the tears that silently slid down Isabella’s face, she laughed quietly again. “I agree. I would never raise a hand to him, yet if I thought it would make him listen to me, make him seesense, that all I want to do is try to be there for him, to stand at his side throughout every single day, whatever that brings, then I would do anything.”
Hermia took her hand and squeezed it gently, nodding. “I once thought Charles was the same. I thought he would never see that I wanted to fight for him, no matter how messy he thought himself to be. But, Isabella, we are in a very good place now. With every day you continue to fight and continue to show your husband love, he will soon see. His mind is telling him that he does not deserve you, that you ought to run because he cannot comprehend that happiness might be something he can have, but hewillsee.”
Isabella sighed. “My husband is very stubborn.”
“And you can be too, Isabella.”
With another squeeze of her hand, Hermia smiled at her. Isabella looked down at her sister’s rounded stomach, and her heart tightened. “Heavens, Hermia, I am so sorry. I should not be imposing my distraught heart and anguish upon you. You are expecting, and you… you do not need?—”
“Hush,” Hermia murmured. “You are my sister, and you can never impose upon me. Especially not now, especially when your heart aches. I am only glad you came here and not to our parents, as I had to. They were the worst to be around when I went through this.”
“Exactly,” Isabella muttered. “Mother already hates Oscar, and I do not need her gloating that I have failed him as his Duchess, for no doubt shewillblame me for this.”
“You do not shoulder this blame alone.”
“Truly?”
“Truly, Isabella. You have a good, kind heart, and you use it often. You are not to blame, and you have not failed as a duchess. If anything, you have possibly done an even better job than I did at it.”
“Oh, do not be foolish. It is not about comparing one another.”
“I know, but you have often compared yourself to me, so I wish to give you some confidence in yourself. You are doing well, sister. You have not failed as a wife, and I do hope you stay as far away from our mother during this time as possible.”
“I will be.”
“In the meantime—” Hermia cocked her head thoughtfully. “Phoebe will definitely want to demonstrate her newfound chess skills, and she takes after her father in the game. But how about she, you, and I take a stroll around Branmere Village? It is a beautiful place, and I have often thought about taking you there.”
Isabella nodded, dabbing at her eyes. “I would like that very much.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
