An Earl’s Broken Heart by Ella Edon

Chapter Twenty-Three

Isabel was saddened and confused as she pondered on the recent development with Alexander. It was so clear that she felt it shock her even as she made her way out of the dining room. The silence between them was unbearable and it saddened her more. Her bed was cold when she curled into it right after her lady’s maid had assisted her in getting into her nightdress. Although she had been lonely for as long as she could remember, there was this deep feeling inside her when she wedded Alexander that her bed would no longer be as it had been.

It was as though there was a warmth there that she had missed, and it kept keeping her hopes up. She curled herself into one corner of the bed and went to sleep. The following morning, Isabel decided to go with Elizabeth's advice of going out more.

The previous day during her visit, Elizabeth had said that there was a party going to visit the theatre to watch a Shakespearean play. Isabel decided that she would be in attendance. Even though Alexander would not be with her, it was only right that she stepped out at least and experienced something fun to take her mind off everything that bothered her.

She was not shocked when she saw that Alexander was not present for breakfast. She simply had hers before playing the pianoforte for a while. She had become more interested in music than anything else as it had the most positive impact on her at that point in time. During the course of her stay home alone, Isabel found the music room her place of comfort. She spent her afternoons there playing music that touched her soul, her fingers working its way on the keys. It was a relieving thing to do. It helped her rid some stress and put her mind at ease. Before her sister had called in the previous day, Isabel had been in the music room. In spite of how heavy her heart had been, she had found the music satisfying for her. Her sister's visit had made her open up and that had brought her the much needed release as she had seen no one to speak to about what had been going on with Alexander. After pouring out her heart to her sister, Isabel felt a bit better.

Isabel sighed as she focused on her music. It was no use thinking about days passed. She anticipated enjoying the play because it was Shakespearean. She did like Shakespeare—but not as much as Alexander did or had. She recalled days in the past when all he'd do was discuss his love for Hamlet and Othello. She would eagerly sit and hear him recount all that he had read. And that was not all, he would often retell the end how he thought that it should have been.

When it was nearly four hours past noon, Isabel knew that she had to prepare for the evening at the theatre. She left the music room then and called out to the butler.

"I shall leave for the theatre soon. Have the carriage ready for my departure,” she said.

"Yes, my Lady,” Mr. Wilson uttered. He turned to leave her again.

Isabel then sent for her lady’s maid to meet her in her bedchamber. There she was dressed. Isabel chose a green dress for that evening and a pearl necklace.

"This is beautiful, my Lady," said her lady’s maid.

Isabel forced a smile. She wished that Alexander would walk in and inform her of that instead of her maid. It bothered her greatly that she would be the only one to be at the theatre without her husband. Everyone else was attending as couples. She considered not attending at all, but she wanted to do other things asides from sinking further into hurt.

"Thank you,” Isabel responded before turning away from the mirror. She was about to head towards the door when a knock stopped her.

"Come in,” she said, thinking it was the butler. But when the door opened and she saw Alexander, her breath seized.

He stood there before her, dressed in a lovely coat that bore the blue of his eyes and black breeches that suited him rightly. He looked quite dashing.

"Alexander,” she said gradually, as though processing the fact that he was standing there before her.

His lips parted when their eyes met and she saw his gaze sweep through her body, her cheeks reddened. But she tried to hide it by turning to face the mirror and pretending to be busy.

"Mr. Wilson says you would be attending the play at the theatre this evening,” he said, walking in.

"I shall with a few ladies.”

"You never informed me.”

Isabel was shocked to hear him say such. She expressed this by turning to face him and raising both her brows. "You were not home to be told."

Alexander narrowed his eyes and looked away. He walked further into the room until he was standing in front of her, his gaze cold and distant. Isabel went on speaking as she was ready to tell him about how she felt, but she kept a little restraint because she did not want to say too much that would get her emotional.

"You stated that we should live separate lives. I believe that is what I had been trying to achieve,” said Isabel, raising her brow.

Alexander rubbed his chin. "While that is necessary, we must not let the Ton be aware of the issues of our marriage."

Isabel scoffed and turned away from him. Listening to him speak and looking at him took a toll on her. However, while he spoke, she still listened. "We must attend the play together. Our public appearance matters, we must think of the benefits to the Estate of our alliance."

Isabel could not believe that that was the only reason why he had wished to speak to her and even follow her to the theatre. But Isabel did not feel the need to argue with him. She simply agreed.

"I shall await you then," she said.

Alexander nodded once before heading away. Isabel breathed out and agreed.

* * *

The ride to the theatre was quiet. Isabel felt most uncomfortable in the carriage with Alexander. For one who had planned to keep a distance from her husband, Isabel felt too close to him and at that point in time, she was still healing from the night he had rejected her. The ride was bumpy and while Alexander looked out through the other window, she did the same as well.

He spoke without looking in her direction. “You know, I don’t think I can ever completely get used to this—” He gestured broadly. “After war.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked in his direction. “Used to what?”

“All these comforts, these peaceful scenes, even seeing people walking around, going about their lives—when you know somewhere in the world there are men dying to defend this.”

That unnerved Isabel. She had never asked him about his time in service, and he had never spoken of it to her knowledge, but at that moment as she watched him stare solemnly out the window all thoughts of her own emotional pain fled at the sight of his own lingering hurt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked before realizing what she was saying.

He said nothing, just the lump on the front of his throat moving as he swallowed.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I—"

“I never laughed so much in life as I did during my service,” he said suddenly.

“Laughed?” She was surprised.

He nodded. “We were always joking, cracking wise, jibbing one another. That’s the truth of war, it’s made of ninety-nine parts boredom, cold discomfort, and almost always hungry. You take every opportunity for a good laugh with both hands, every cue for a joke is snatched. Every song gets an extra chorus. Just to keep our minds off that other part of war, the hard part, the dance with death. The dark business. The whole time you are asking yourself, why am I here?”

“Well,” Isabel offered. “You were there because you believed in this nation, because you wanted to fight on the side of good men.”

He gave a small laugh. “There’s good men on both sides of an argument.”

She gave a solemn nod. “Why do you think it was then?”

“You want to know the truth?”

She nodded. “I do.”

He gave her a long appraising look and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he hated her or he loved her, such was the consternation in his gaze. “I left because I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near you. After everything that happened, it hurt too much. My service was not the noble quest you accuse me of.”

She leaned close to him and touched his hand. “Alexander, I truly am sorry. I hope you know that.”

He snorted and leaned back. “Sometimes.”

She gave an entreating smile and he smiled back.

“Tell me something,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Did you ever think of me when I was gone?”

Isabel closed her eyes and clenched her fist tight. “Every single day.”

Alexander let out a heavy breath and the carriage started to slow.

“I think we’re here,” he said, looking away from her.

She nodded. “We are.”

Alexander climbed out and let out his hand for her to lean into as she alighted. Her fingers tingled at his touch, and she was reminded of the liquid bliss of his skin on hers bare and moist. She glanced up at him and could not stop herself from considering his lips. He looked back down on her with his deep-water blue eyes, and she was so taken aback that she missed a step as she alighted. Her balance faltered and for a moment she was sure she would end up in a painful tangle of limbs.

Alexander didn’t let this happen. He was there sure, strong, and steady. With a single hand about her waist, he caught her. She sighed as her body weight was held in place and saw the muscles in his arm tighten at the effort. She was reminded of his strength and how easily it had been for him to lift her off her feet. Her palms splayed on his chest and lingered there until she felt steady. For that elongated moment tendrils of electricity raced through her. Her proximity to Alexander cut her breath completely short, such that it came in sharp gasps. All the focus she had believed she could maintain had fled from her and there she was completely at the mercy of this beautiful man with whom she was besotted. His hand lingered on her waist, almost possessively. That was how she wanted it. For him to be possessed of her and her of him. She wished that his hand would slip an inch higher or an inch lower, either one would be enough to send her over the edge.

"Lord Carter." She heard behind them.

Isabel cast her gaze sideways and moved instinctively away from Alexander. His hand slid expertly into hers as she turned to see who had spoken.

It was her sister Elizabeth and her husband, Lord Greg Hamilton, Viscount of Blackthorn.

"Lord Blackthorn." Alexander smiled and the two men clasped hands together.

Elizabeth came around to embrace Isabel just before saying, "The rest of the ladies are seated in the theatre. We must go in now."

While Greg and Alexander conversed, Elizabeth and Isabel walked ahead, whispering.

"How did you get Alexander to attend with you?" Elizabeth whispered.

Isabel shrugged. "He made the effort to be in attendance."

"I did say that things would turn around." Elizabeth said, smiling with the much needed assurance.

Isabel shook her head. "He stated that he had done this for the Ton, that for the sake of the Estate we cannot be seen attending public events independently."

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. "You must see the bright side of all this. Alexander has never been one to consider outer appearance irrespective of the situation—nor cared for the opinions of the Ton!"

These words clicked in Isabel's mind. Elizabeth is right, she thought. Alexander was not one to care about other people's opinion. And he was not one to hide what he was truly feeling. If he decided to be with her here, he did so because he had felt drawn to her or he had felt the need to amend their relationship. This was not because of the Ton.

She cast a glance at the large banner that had been hung over the columned entrance of the theatre. The single word Hamlet was emblazoned in red. Since its opening a few weeks earlier, this particular production had drawn visitors from far and wide, and the talk was that the lead actor gave a truly unmatched performance as Hamlet. They entered the theatre and took up their assigned seats. A courtly panorama hung upon the stage giving the viewers the impression of a throne room.

Realization set about a bubbling hope in Isabel that made her anticipate the production. This was another avenue for reconnection with Alexander. They had both loved the works of Shakespeare, and Hamlet most of all. In times long gone, they had run about the Lichfield Maze reciting words from every act with childish gusto.

These thoughts brought about a positive feeling for Isabel as she sank back into her seat beside Alexander. The lighting dimmed leaving the singular spotlight upon the dressed stage and the curtain fell. A bell rang indicating that the play was about to start, and Isabel felt her heart start to flutter. Without knowing why, she reached out for Alexander’s hand.

For a moment, his hand went deathly limp, then it closed around hers and warmth blossomed within her. Even though he stared straight ahead and did not look her way, there was a glint in his sea blue eyes that imparted a soft flutter in her chest. She could see it, even from the corner of his eyes—he was excited about the show.

The room darkened further causing the crowd to hush one another to silent amidst the gasps of anticipation. A sudden spray of soft yellow light animated the stage as the curtains rose. The opening scene began and the actors to play Bernardo and Marcellus appeared. The theatre’s acoustics were a delight and Isabel quickly found herself enthralled by the spectacle. However, she wasn’t able to lose herself entirely to the play. She acutely aware of the man sitting beside her. She noted the soft rise and fall of his chest the subtle tightening of his grip when the drama rose. This was an opportunity she could not allow to go amiss.

She watched with eager anticipation and waited with bated breath for the moment they had both cherished so much as young lovers.

When the moment came, she pressed her lips to his ear, reciting the words. "To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub, for in the sleep of death what dreams may come..."