Page 31 of The Duke's Improper Bride
“You promised me,” she said, stilling before his desk. She leaned her arms on the polished surface, her eyes narrowed. Hell hath no fury like his wife Nora. Even if he did love her for it.
“I promised I would assist with searching for him, yes.”
Nora straightened, throwing her arms into the air. “We’ve been in London for a week now, and the search hasn’t begun.”
He rested his head in his hands. “We’ve been otherwise occupied, dear, if I remember.”
“Don’t do that to me, Isaac Barnes.” She wagged her finger at him, her brows furrowed. The blush hitting her cheeks didn’t escape him.
Good.
He was still more than occupied remembering the past month with his wife as well. The nights, the days, the well, anytime, really.
Isaac relaxed, tilting his head up to the ceiling, and sighed. It was a fine ceiling; no detail had been spared in this house. His grandfather had had grand taste, and though it was far more palatial than Isaac was comfortable with, it was fitting of a duke. He always had to be fitting of a duke.
But no one had warned him about duchesses.
“He’s my friend, Isaac. A dear f-friend, who’s been locked up by his family, and I have had to sit and w-wait for men to help me.”
When he didn’t answer, she balled her fists. “You’re no better than Stuart.”
He straightened, her words cutting him.
“I’m a lot better than Stuart, dear. That wasn’t kind to say.”
She released the bocce ball, and it rolled at her feet, knocking into his giant mahogany desk. “The truth isn’t m-meant to be kind.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes, her shoulders leaning forward. It was a horrible habit of hers to try to make herself smaller.
“I’m not saying that I can’t find him, Nora. I’m simply asking for a few hours to attend to my business first. I’ve been gone and I have stacks of letters. We’ve turned away visits from my steward twice now—”
She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “I won’t apologize for t-that.”
He strode around his desk, yanking her into his arms. “No, and you shouldn’t.”
Isaac gently pushed her back, his hands cupping her shoulders. “My concern is for your wellbeing. It’s dangerous to try to break someone out of an asylum, especially when the family has paid handsomely for him to be stashed away. I can help you and will do so. I’ve already reached out to a few friends of mine.”
“Have you?”
“You can throw around that I’m like Stuart, but unlike that sorry excuse for a man, I do follow through with my promises.”
Nora shivered beneath his touch. Odd.
“What’s troubling you, love?”
She shook her head, her face growing pale. “It was unkind of m-me to say. My anger won, and I am sorry for saying s-such a thing when I know it’s not true.”
“I love you, do you know that?”
Nora squeezed his hand, bringing it to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes.
Did she feel the same? His chest grew tight as he waited.
Nora slipped out of his embrace and the moment was gone, Isaac’s disappointment heavy and bitter in his mouth.
“I have an appointment with the dressmaker. I don’t wish to be late.”
“Of course,” he said, gesturing with his hand for her to leave. He leaned his back against the desk, his legs stretched and crossed in front of him and his arms settled across his chest.
Would she ever love him? Or was finding her friend nothing but a bargaining chip? He couldn’t help but feel as if he had been taken advantage of by the girl who spent her mornings hiking mountains in the highlands.
