Page 31 of The Beastly Duke's Christmas Bride
In a townhouse in London, it was much more difficult for someone to hide away. But out here in this country estate, where there were too many rooms and confusing halls, Isabel began to feel like she might never find her husband again.
“What if someone died in a different corner room?” She sighed to herself in her painting room. “It would take weeks to find them.”
“What dark thoughts you have whilst alone!” Mrs. Maple cried from the door way. Everyone always told Isabel to close the door for warmth, but she liked leaving it parted to hear footsteps in the house to know she wasn’t alone. But it also meant the housekeeper could hear her thoughts.
Flushing, Isabel put down her brush. “I didn’t mean to sound so cruel. I was only… Is something the matter?”
Mrs. Maple hesitated a second before stepping inside, bringing her a letter. “Not at all, or so I should like to believe. There is a missive for you. I’m afraid it was lost in the business of our guests the other day. I didn’t mean to, that is, er…”
The way she was fumbling about with her words was unlike the housekeeper. Seeing the way the woman’s eyes darted toward the missive she handed over said enough. “You read it?”
“I beg your pardon. A thousand apologies, Your Grace.”
Isabel decided to brush it off. She shook her head, and said, “Perhaps it couldn’t be helped. This wasn’t exactly sealed. How it survived… Oh. Ah.”
The folded letter was short and to the point. It only took a moment for Isabel to read and then to understand Mrs. Maple’s manners.
‘Dearest Belle, what an extraordinary adventure you have attended without me. I cannot bear it! My parents have offered the carriage for my journey. Worry not, friend, I am on my way to see you at once. Yours, Emilia.’
One more glance at the post script confirmed for Isabel that this correspondence had been sent several days past. Her friend could be arriving any day now!
Why is it everyone insists on visiting us without warming? Goodness!
“Very well.” Isabel turned to Mrs. Maple. “We’ll need to ready a guest room at once. Who knows when my friend will arrive.”
Once she had carefully put her paints away, Isabel hastened out of the room with the housekeeper while they strategized. She hoped she might have another day or two to be prepared, but one could never be certain. It could be that very day. Together, the two of them planned and made arrangements.
Afterward, Isabel attempted to return to her painting but couldn’t bear to sit still when she considered that her dearest friend in all the world was coming for a visit.
“It’s only fair, since Sebastian’s friends visited him. How inconvenient this must be, to be outside of London,” she muttered to herself.
She couldn’t find Sebastian so she penned her own missive to alert him that she had her own guest arriving soon. Only she didn’t know what to do with it.
Knocking on the door of his study, Isabel waited in the hopes he was there. Only no one responded. She knocked two more times until she was certain he wasn’t there. Braving a scolding, she decided entered.
“Oh.” It wasn’t the sort of study she had expected. The room was small and almost L-shaped with a fireplace in the corner. Her father had designed his study to be at least four times larger than this one here. But her father wasn’t half of Sebastian’s size.
How… cozy this room is. One doesn’t need to worry about size if one knows how to use it. I could enjoy several days alone in such a space. No wonder he likes it.
Small, to be sure, but warm. There was a small fire smoldering in the corner so he had been here at some point. She eyed the windows with the curtains thrown open for daylight. Shelves lined the walls across the room, filled with all sorts of books. She recognized several novels.
“You keep surprising me,” she murmured quietly to herself.
“Pardon?”
Isabel jumped and whirled around. “Oh! Sebastian. You startled me.”
He stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow. “You’re the one creeping around my study.”
“I am hardly creeping! I am… studying,” she decided.
“The books?”
“No, you.” She lifted her chin proudly as confusion washed over him. It felt like a minor victory. Strolling forward, she offered the letter she was still holding onto that was meant for him. “I was bringing you a letter.”
Only more confused, he pinched the small paper between two fingers and then glanced back up at her. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because you have a knack for disappearing,” she told him honestly.
