Page 76 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
Isabel sighed, closing the door after him. She hadn’t suggested Thomas should also come to London. A good part of her had hoped he would return to their parents to make peace with them. But maybe, while he was here, he could sort out his legal matters. He could put his life back on the right path like he kept promising.
And then I can stop worrying about him.
Pushing him from her mind, she moved on through her day. She had made a few mistakes she would rectify with the men in her life. But that could be done later. She had her dress fitting, she purchased a new rug from the entryway, and put in a new order for oysters to enjoy that evening.
Sebastian was late to supper.
“My sincerest apologies. I’ve been added to nearly every committee,” he said. “It has my head underwater visiting these parties and sorting out matters. I imagine it will only get worse as the season carries on.”
“That’s all right,” she reassured him, restraining any disappointment. “I’m only glad to have supper with you.”
“As am I.”
They ate quietly. Though she had a chance to tell him about Thomas, Isabel couldn’t bring herself to do that. Instead, she decided to do something better.
“My gift is finally ready for you,” she admitted. “Do you have some free time this evening?”
“For you, definitely. I was only hoping to get in some reading. That can be handled afterward. I’m excited to see about this promised gift you keep alluding to,” he added with a tilt of his lips.
She scrunched her nose. “You know, it is real.”
“Of course it is.”
A surprised laugh escaped her. “And yet your face says you remain unconvinced. Very well. I’m finished eating. Are you?”
He rose immediately. “Certainly.”
After informing their servants they would take some tea in the library afterward, she led him toward the stairs. She put out one hand for the banister just as he took her other hand. That made her pause, watching him cradle her arm in his.
“Shall we?” he asked her.
Trying to ignore the skipping of her heartbeat, Isabel nodded. She shouldn’t have been nervous. But London life was feeling more different than ever before. So was her relationship with Sebastian. She didn’t remember being this nervous with him before.
Into the library they went. There was a small fire already set up for them in the corner. Around the sofa they went, and then she stopped.
“What…” Sebastian glanced around in confusion for a moment. And then he saw it. She bit her lip. Holding her breath, she started to step away to give him a moment with the new painting she’d recently set on the wall in the nicest frame. Only Sebastian’s grip tightened. “Good lord. Isabel…”
It was impossible to know what he meant right then. “Oh dear. Do you loathe it?”
“I…”
“You didn’t have any portraits in Eastwynd,” Isabel carried on hastily. “Not of yourself, not really. And you deserve one. I couldn’t tell if you would mind or not. But you deserve a portrait, a fine one that shows the world just how strong and handsome and good you are. I tried my best, truly, but if you loathe it even one inch, I’ll tear it down and burn it. I swear.”
“Don’t you dare.” Sebastian turned to her, taking her chin in his hand. The strength of his gaze left her wobbling on her feet. “You’re an artist.”
She swallowed hard. “I tried.”
“You are. I never thought I would care to see myself… but you did an incredible thing. A miracle, even.”
A shaky laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “It’s not that brilliant.”
“It is if I say it is,” he added with a wry smile. “Thank you, Isabel, from the bottom of my heart.”
Sebastian didn’t kiss her then, even when she caught him looking at her lips. Because she would have let him. But his gratitude was sweet enough in the moment. Isabel swallowed back her desires while she watched him set his glasses on the bridge of his nose to study the art a little longer. Her heart pounded against her ribs for the entire twenty minutes and even until she was curled up in her blankets. She only wished she had fallen asleep before she could hear a past conversation with Thomas in her head.
“Does he even desire you?”
“Thomas, you have despicable manners.”
