Page 52 of A Duke in Her Fate
“I’ll send you some,” Isla promised. She hugged her sisters one last time. “Do behave yourselves and I shall see you soon. I love you all.”
Her mother refused the hug. “I expect you to perform your duties with grace and goodness,” she said sternly instead. “Don’t be embarrassing the family, if you please.”
“I would never,” Isla responded with a frown.
“And don’t make that face. You’ll gather wrinkles.” The older woman sniffed. “Very well, do take care of yourself.” And us, she seemed to say with a pointed expression.
Ronan frowned. He could tell that the relationship between Isla and her mother had always been somewhat strained. Nuanced, perhaps. Judging by the tight smile Isla made, she understood her mother’s stern manners.
“And you,” she said simply. “Good bye.”
Then Isla accepted his arm as they went to his carriage. They climbed inside. Already his valet was back on the road with Ronan’s horse to return to the country estate. Isla’s belongings were tied down here, ready for their new home.
His wife, Ronan realized. She was his wife. He watched her movements as she waved to her family one last time before tucking herself inside. What was she thinking? There was thatimpassive expression of hers that always left him puzzled when he saw it.
Neither of them said a word as they encountered London traffic. It took them an hour or so to escape it, finally leaving the busyness behind.
“This really is a fine carriage,” Isla ventured at last. She glanced up at the ceiling where intricate designs showed. “Beautiful, too.”
“Good. It is yours.” She stared and he pointed out, “It is a wedding gift. They are customary, are they not?”
She flushed. “Well, yes, I suppose it is. But a carriage? That’s hardly necessary. I thought you already had one.”
He leaned back and stretched out his legs. His foot crossed against the fabric of her skirts. The strangest urge to touch her washed over him. He pushed it away. “You should have your own. I wanted to ensure it would be safe.”
“Safe? Isn’t your other carriage safe as well?”
“Yes, but this has more measurements to ensure security. The driver has never crashed, either, and these horses are particularly well trained,” he explained. He looked away when Isla peered at him with an intensity that made him feel too warm. At least he felt the awkward need to explain. “My sister passed in a carriage accident. I don’t wish the same for you.”
Isla inhaled sharply. “Oh. Ah. I am very sorry to hear that. And…”
He shook his head, praying to move the subject along. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”
“Very well. Is it a long journey to your estate?” She asked, sounding rather meek. That annoyed him. He couldn’t explain why, exactly. But he liked it when she was confident. Bold. Daring.
“A few hours, so perhaps you should rest while you can,” he said.
That killed any conversation that could have happened. It was more effective than he intended. But perhaps, Ronan supposed, that was for the best.
Neither of them said a word for the rest of their journey out of London. The sun eventually set, and they rode through the night. He didn’t want to stay along the road, so he had his driver ride them through the full moon until they finally arrived home.
“Thank you,” Isla murmured when he helped her inside, servants moving about to unload. She yawned, her eyelashes fluttering, as they moved inside the hall.
“Welcome, Your Graces.” Hobbes offered a deep bow. “What a pleasure to have you here."
Ronan glanced about in relief that the servants had not all been lined out for introductions. Although he had told his butler not to do it, sometimes the old man decided he knew better. “Hobbes, this is our new duchess, Lady Isla. Isla, this is Hobbes, my head butler. Our head butler,” he amended when Hobbes raised his eyebrow.
“A pleasure,” Isla said before yawning again. “I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t think I could be so tired after our journey.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” Hobbes bowed again, clearly on his best behavior. “Why don’t I escort you up to your bed chamber? We have a hot bath prepared for you, and a light meal, should you care for one.”
Nodding, she said, “Let us see if I can stay away long enough for it.”
Isla took a step forward as a young maid was brought out to lead her in that direction. But then she paused, looking back at Ronan.
He gave a short nod in return. “Go on. Get your rest. We shall talk tomorrow.”
A shadow seemed to cross her features but it passed so quickly he was certain it was only his own exhaustion. It wasn’t often he used a carriage to venture forth on these long journeys, and he hoped never to do that again. Isla was right: one could sleep on the road but it was never a satisfactory rest.
