Once a Duchess(96)
“She has your eyes, Justin,” Isabelle murmured.
The girl’s hair was a wispy, honey brown fringe on the top of her head. Isabelle lightly stroked the feathery hair that felt like silk under her fingers. “Hello, darling.”
Belle extended a small hand with bits of fuzz stuck to it and grabbed Isabelle’s nose in a strong grip.
“Ow!” Isabelle yelped in pretend pain.
Belle gave an open-mouthed laugh, revealing eight miniature, pearly white teeth in her gums.
Tears stung Isabelle’s eyes. “Justin, she’s perfection.”
She looked up to his face, which beamed with pride. “Isn’t she?”
“Did you really name her for me?” she asked.
“No,” Justin deadpanned. “She’s named for my other friend Isabelle.”
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. She turned to his wife. “Please, Mrs. Miller, sit down.”
Mrs. Miller sank onto the sofa and smoothed her simple cotton dress with her hands. “Call me, Rebecca, ma’am.”
“Of course,” she acquiesced. “But you must call me Isabelle.”
Bessie arrived with tea. Little Belle crawled around the floor, always staying close to her mother and father. She pulled up on her mama’s skirt, balancing precariously on small, booted feet.
“How old is she?” Isabelle asked as she poured for everyone.
“A year last month,” Rebecca answered, stroking the girl’s head fondly.
An unexpected sadness crept over Isabelle as she watched the mother and daughter’s loving interaction. “I wish I’d known you were coming,” she said, blinking away her despondency. “I’m having the nursery painted. I’d have done it sooner — ”
Justin cut her off with a wave of his hand. “We wouldn’t arrive on your doorstep unannounced and expect to stay with you. There’s a fine inn in the village that will suit.”
“The George?”
“That’s the one,” Justin answered. “Do you know it?”
Isabelle raised her teacup and chuckled. “Yes, I’m familiar with the establishment. It’s a good inn.” She sipped her beverage. “I do hope you’ll stay here, though. It won’t be any trouble at all.”
Rebecca and Justin exchanged a silent communication. Isabelle envied their obvious closeness.
“All right, then,” Rebecca answered. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, ma’am.”
“Dearest, you must not bestow any honorific upon Isa whatsoever,” Justin chided his wife. “You should have seen the way she abused me the one and only time I called her Your Grace — and she was a duchess!”
Isabelle rolled her eyes at his teasing, but then she caught the uneasy expression on Rebecca’s face. The subject of Isabelle’s divorce was clearly made the woman uncomfortable. For that matter, Isabelle thought crossly, she’d never discussed it with Justin; he’d disappeared before it ever transpired. Yet, here he was, teasing her about it like he used to tug her braid.
She felt her temper rise. How could he have let so many years elapse without a single word of communication, and then come waltzing back with his American wife and child to pop in for tea as though it were nothing?
“Why didn’t you write?” The words came out more bitingly than she’d intended them to do. Justin slowly lowered his teacup. “When the baby was born?” Isabelle said, moderating her tone. “Or when you married? I would have liked to have known. Or that you were in America — or alive, for that matter.”
Justin flinched. “I’m sorry.” All the gaiety he’d shown at their reunion evaporated. His shoulders slumped a fraction. He sighed heavily. “Isa, believe me, I’ve argued with myself since the second I set foot on American soil, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I know it can’t have been easy for you. We visited my parents first thing when we got back. Then we went to Fairfax Hall. Alexander told us how awful the trial was.”
Isabelle’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like to think of her brother discussing the particulars of her personal life with anyone, even if it was Justin. He hadn’t been here. What gave him the right to know these things now?
“Part of me wishes I’d never left,” Justin continued. “I don’t know that the two of us could have stood a chance against the Lords, but at least it would’ve been two, and not just you.” His mouth twisted in a bitter expression. Isabelle knew he felt guilty for leaving her alone to face Marshall’s accusations.