The weeks after the duke's death passed in a quiet blur. Lady Cunningham, in the end, determined to stay the year through to help her friend through her grief. Isabella understood Lady Cunningham wanting to be next to a close friend in her time of need, but couldn’t help but regret that the joyous holiday season would now be spent in the presence of Lady Lydia.
Lady Wintercrest was grief-stricken by the passing of her husband. Though Isabella had never thought their marriage one of romance, it was clear that Lady Wintercrest did have deep admiration for her husband and would miss his companionship dearly.
Shortly after his passing, the duke was laid to rest in the family graveyard next to his son, Lord James. It was at this time that Lord Bellfourd was now required to take on the land, title, and seat of his father.
He did hesitate at first, often not leaving his room all the day long, so deep was he weighed down by the prospect before him.
Though he knew, with the passing of his older brother, this day would come eventually, he hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Even as the late duke’s health continued to deteriorate, Lord Bellfourd was certain he would right himself in the end.
Now, Captain Christian Grant was the Duke of Wintercrest. It was a weight and responsibly that he didn’t feel ready for or suited to, but it was his, none the less, and so he took it upon himself.
Unfortunately, even with the sullen state of the house, life seemed to continue elsewhere. This regrettably included continued correspondence from Mr. Smith. Isabella, though she certainly didn’t enjoy her letters, was settled to the fact that he was, at least, only writing to her and had, as of yet, not sent any word to the household.
“What are you ladies doing today?” a male voice came through the school room door just after the passing of the holiday season.
The newly instated Duke of Wintercrest by the House of Lords had not been to visit his niece much over the last few months. Isabella’s face lit up with joy to see him there now and notice some of the old light in his eyes.
“We were examining our caterpillars to see if they wiggled. Nursie said she saw them dance, but I don’t believe her,” Jackie said, coming to stand before her uncle.
“Do you think, perhaps, that you could watch your little friend while I speak with Miss Watts?”
“Alright, I’ll let you have her if you must,” the child said, coming into her own childlike personality, “but you must promise to give her back.”
“Upon my honor,” the Duke of Wintercrest said, hand over heart. “If you don’t mind too much that is, Miss Watts?”
“Of course not,” Isabella stood up from her crouched seat next to the small jar of critters.
He held his arm out to her and she slipped in her hand happily. They walked in comfortable silence as they made their way down to the duke's office. It had been moved, once again, to its original room after the removal of bedchamber items.
The duke escorted Isabella inside and shut the double doors behind them. Instead of going over to his desk, he instead walked to the two chairs in front of a warm fire.
He more collapsed in his seat than sat. Covering his face with his hand, he exposed his true feelings that he had yet to share with anyone else.
“Oh, Christian,” Isabella said taking a seat across from him. "You have looked so tired as of late. I have been so worried about you. Please, tell me what I can do to help you.”
He lifted his head from his hand, ruffling his hair in the process, and relaxed into a soft smile.
“I am not sure what is to be done anymore.”
“I could at least call for some tea,” she suggested. “Perhaps it would calm your spirit?”
“No, thank you though.”
“Perhaps just a friend to talk to, then?” Isabella asked with a hopeful tone.
"Now that, I would be happy to accept. I actually called you here because of this,” he pulled a letter out from his pocket.
Isabella’s heart caught in her throat. Had Mr. Smith written to the duke after all?
“It comes from a Mr. Jenkins,” he said, opening it, and Isabella relaxed into the back of her chair. “He tells me that he is your father’s lawyer.”
“Well, he was. He is just a good friend now, I suppose.”
Christian nodded in understanding.
“He explained that he was charged with sending your quarterly allowances from your father’s business partner and making sure they were given to you.”
“Yes, I was given a small yearly sum upon my father’s death.”
“He informed me that he is most concerned about your welfare because he has not been able to give these sums to you, as agreed. Apparently, Mr. Smith is refusing to pay the amount agreed. He was concerned that without it you might not be living as comfortably as you should. Were you aware of this matter?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well, I was aware that I was no longer receiving money from Mr. Jenkins after the first quarterly amount. I know him to be a trustworthy man, however, and believed that he would send them along when, or I suppose if, he ever received them.”
“Had I known you were in wanting…”
“I’m not. I promise you that, Christian.” Isabella answered quickly. “I have more than enough for my needs.”
“I suppose I just wished you would have told me when this Mr. Smith started to treat you poorly again.”
Isabella half thought to tell him of the constant streams of harassment she was still receiving, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “You have been through a very rough time in your life. I didn’t want to burden you with anymore.”
“You seem to be the only one to feel that way at this time," the duke said with spite as he looked into the fire.
“Please, tell me. Perhaps I could help.”
“I suppose that is the real reason I asked you to speak with me today. I am hoping you can help me.”
“My mother,” he said with a huff, “is of the opinion that, with my father passed, it is of the utmost importance that I seek a wife and secure the family name, as it were.”
“It is a very practical suggestion of her,” Isabella said, her heart fluttering in panic.
“I’m sure you could guess that she has a very particular lady in mind.”
“I suppose she would,” Isabella said, doing her best to hide her sorrow.
“I told Mother that I can’t stand the thought of being married to Lady Lydia,” the duke exploded, standing before the fireplace. “She is completely opposite to me in every way. In my mind, such a situation would only have a dastardly end.”
“Your mother has a lot of affection for her friend Lady Cunningham, and naturally she sees the match a good opportunity for strengthening the bond between two households. Would she not understand, if you shared your feelings with her?”
“I have,” he answered, staring into the fire. “Mother thinks my concern is just the reason that we would make such a good match. You see," the duke said, turning to Isabella in explanation, “she and my father were not in love. I’m not even sure how much affection ever ran between them. It was an arrangement most agreeable to both families. Just as I am counter to Lady Lydia, so my mother was the opposite of my father.”
“She feels that having such a relationship can temper each other's vices and provide stability. In her mind, the whole of success in marriage isn’t on matters of compatibility but on the constraints of society.”
“Surely the constraints of the town do not limit you to one lady? I’m sure Lady Wintercrest will be happy for you to find affection for someone else who is in accordance.”
The duke sat back down in his seat. There was something on his mind, perhaps the root of the whole conversation, that he was trying to find the right words for.
“What if I have already chosen another?” he asked, looking at her with a deep gaze. He held his hand to his chin while he studied Isabella processing the new information.
“Then I see no reason why your mother wouldn’t accept your choice. She is a very reasonable woman. If you choose a lady from the proper breeding, she would be overjoyed at your decision.”
“What if the woman I chose was not of a proper family? What if I knew, that though my family thought kindly of the lady in question, they might not agree with the unconventional choice I was making?”
Isabella’s heart was in her throat as the duke spoke with pleading eyes. She was hoping in the depths of her soul that he was speaking of her, that the Duke of Wintercrest would defy conventions and his family’s wishes, to confess his love to her.
She stopped in her thoughts, however. She could never ask Christian to hurt his family on her account, nor should she ever wish to add to Lady Wintercrest’s current sorrow.
She swallowed hard to choke down the emotion she was holding back.
“I think…” Isabella said, fighting the tears that were beginning to pool, “I think you should do what is best for your family.”
He dropped his hand in shock. He couldn’t believe he was hearing her right.
“You know who I speak of, do you not?” he asked.
“Yes,” Isabella barely choked out with her eyes cast down at the rug.
“And you will honestly tell me that you do not feel for me as I do for you?”
“No, I will not tell you that. I won’t lie to you. I care for you deeply.”
“Then, why?” Christian asked bewildered.
“Because I also care deeply for your sister, your mother, your niece. I won't bring them more pain. There is enough sorrow just now.”
“For just now, or for finality?” the duke questioned.
He came down on his knee in front of Isabella and took her hand in his. He looked up at her emerald eyes, not a direction he was accustomed to.
“I know the duties that are laid before me. I have settled myself to the task. I know, however, that I cannot do them without you by my side.”
“You have been the friend to comfort me, to listen to me, as I struggled to come to terms with reality. You have brought light into the life of every person you have met. I know with you, I will have the courage to overcome whatever may come my way.”
“Christian,” Isabella said softly, taking a moment to reach up and feel the smoothness of his cheek.
The duke closed his eyes and relished her soft touch.
“I could not bear to hurt them,” she repeated softly.
He opened his eyes to her, “Then we shall wait. I could wait as long as necessary, if I only knew that you too felt the same for me as I for you.”
Isabella smiled down at the man kneeling before her. If he only knew how long she had held him in her heart secretly, he would laugh at asking such a question.
“I do feel the same for you,” she answered softly.
He smiled up at her, elated. He leaned down and softly kissed the delicate hand he held in his. Standing, he lifted her to her feet as well.
“Then I will wait. For as long as it takes. When this time of sorrow passes, we will have our wedding day,” he said, looking down at Isabella’s glowing face with hope in his crystal eyes.