Page 40 of My Duke, The Stranger
“I need to think, Isolde. Please, go to your room, do nothing, and say nothing. And yes, before you ask, that is an order.” He looked right at her, his stare cold and commanding. No love. No warmth. A look that reminded her of the same man she had first met two years ago.
“I am so sorry…” Slowly, she turned. “I will not ask for forgiveness. All I will ask is for you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, because, despite what I might have thought, you do not deserve it. You never did.” With that, she put down her head and hurried from the room.
The moment she was free from the office, Isolde collapsed against the wall. Her breathing was heavy. Her entire body struggled to function in any discernible way. Tears fell down her face. Soft whimpers escaped her lips.
She hated that she had hurt Cassian. She hated that she had lied to him. But most of all, she hated that he saw her now as a stranger, one he could not trust, and one he would likely never want to see or speak to again.
Sixteen
Isolde spent the night pacing her room.
She could not sleep. She could not sit down. All she could do, and all she did, was replay what had happened with Cassian over and over and over again.
It was even worse than I thought…
Now that it was done, Isolde was able to reckon with her expectations and what she might have wanted to happen. It would have been easier if he had just been angry with her. If he had shouted and screamed and demanded that she leave and never come back. Perhaps a punishment of some kind? If he had told Isolde that her family was to be banished from his land? Maybe even a petty response, a claim that he had never loved her at all.
Any of those would have been reasonable.
Rather, it was the coldness that came from Cassian that hurt Isolde the most. The way he had looked at her… as if he did not know her… as if he still believed that she was lying because surely the woman he knew could not have done such a thing… that was what she struggled with as the hours wore on.
She had hurt him; of that, there was no doubt. A man who was broken, who relied on her to make him whole, and she had taken advantage of him and wrecked him beyond repair.
The hours stretched long into the night until the darkness was broken by the dim rays of the rising sun. Isolde started when she noticed the time, and she looked to the closed door as she had been doing since she first walked into the room.
Would he even come? And if he did, what would he say? Nothing good, she was sure. What was more, she did not know if she wanted to hear it.
Why did he ask me to stay? Is it so he can think of a way to punish me? I deserve it, I know. But I do not know if I can bear it.
All night, Isolde had waited for Cassian, and now that morning had arrived, she realized that to wait would be to invite more pain and humiliation and suffering. Would it not be better if she just left? That way, she could pretend that this had never happened, and he might be able to forget her once and for all.
Doing him a favor… yes, that was how Isolde chose to think of it.
With her mind made up, Isolde determined that she needed to leave. She looked around the room, realized that she owned nothing but the clothes on her back, and decided that she must leave as she had come. In a way, it reminded her of that night two years ago, but it was somehow even worse.
Slowly, she crept from her room.
The halls stood empty and quiet, as if the entire manor was asleep. She kept her head down as she hurried, praying that nobody would see her. Her footsteps echoed throughout the manor, her racing heart thumped loudly, and she did not dare glance into any of the rooms that she passed or look over her shoulder.
She fled. That's what she did. It was for the best.
When she reached the foyer, she breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty. The large doors were unattended, and she hurried toward them…
“So, it is done?” spoke a voice from her right.
Isolde paused at the doorway, her stomach dropping, and she had to fight the urge not to ignore it. She might have done, but she felt that she owed another an explanation… not to mention, an apology.
“I told him…” She sighed and turned to find Mr. Pemberton walking slowly toward her. “Last evening, I… I told Cassian everything.”
“His Grace,” Mr. Pemberton corrected.
“Yes,” she winced. “His Grace.”
To Mr. Pemberton’s credit, he did not look pleased with himself. In fact, he almost looked upset. His expression was soft, his brow was furrowed, and his lips were pressed together as if he was holding back a thought or a comment that he was not sure he should say out loud.
“I am sorry, Mr. Pemberton,” she said to him. “I am sorry for what I have done to… to His Grace, and the pain I caused him. I never meant it.”
“I know you did not,” he said as he reached her. “While I do not think that wanting to help him was your primary concern, I see now that hurting His Grace was not your intention.”
