Charles sat in his den, stewing over his last conversation with Isabella. He'd been harsh with her, but if he weren't, she'd stay. She'd had this dream of doing something to please her father for so long, if she didn't accomplish her goal and instead stayed here with Charles, she might regret it for the rest of her life.
He didn't want to be the cause of Izzy not realizing her dream. Charles knew all too well how it felt to lose what you cared most about, because life with Isabella had been his dream. If she stayed, she might even resent Charles. No, he couldn't let that happen, as much as it pained him.
It would be all too easy to wrap his arms around her and carry her back upstairs. As it would also be too easy to marry her and have her stay here forever. Charles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. If they were meant to be, it had to truly be Isabella's choice. She'd have to be sure, without doubts that staying here was what she desired. Until that happened, he'd have to push her away, if necessary, even though it broke his heart.
A commotion came from the hallway. Charles opened the door to see two maids laughing as they walked up the stairs. What were they going on about? Usually they were so quiet he didn't know they were around, which was the way he had always preferred it. He was sure if Isabella had her way, they'd all be quite friendly with each other and speak to each other on a regular basis. Charles hoped he got a chance to find out what that would be like. He'd change most anything about the way his home was run if it meant the woman he loved was overseeing his staff.
Charles followed loud voices coming from the direction of the kitchen and stopped short in the doorway. He widened his eyes at the scene. Sebastian and Isabella were sitting at the kitchen table, laughing so hard their eyes watered. What was going on?
He strode to the table and stopped, arms crossed as he waited for someone to give him an explanation.
Sebastian tilted his head and winked at Charles. "Merry Christmas, nephew."
Why was his uncle shouting? He frowned and switched his gaze to Isabella. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. Leaning closer, he could see her eyes were bloodshot. They'd been drinking?
Charles grabbed Isabella's glass and sniffed. Brandy, good and strong. He slammed the glass back down, sloshing some liquid onto the table. "What do you two think you're doing? You're making spectacles of yourselves in front of the servants. I saw two maids laughing on their way up the stairs. Now it's apparent to me what, or should I say whom, they were laughing about.
Isabella leaned over so far in her chair that she almost toppled to the floor.. "M-merry Christmas, Charlie."
"Charlie? Who's that?"
She pointed a shaky finger in his direction. "That's you, honey."
Charles shook his head. "You're drunk. Let's get you upstairs to bed."
Her eyes widened. "Now? Oh good."
Charles rolled his eyes as he tried to will the heat from his face. Now everyone in the house would know what they'd already done. He leaned down and helped Isabella to stand. She was as stable as a wet rag and soon wilted. Walking with her was not an option. Bending over, he caught her at her midsection and flipped her over his shoulder. She laughed, clapping her hands on his back. He felt her lift one hand from his back. What was she doing?
"Bye, S'bastian!"
The fool was waving good-bye to his uncle. He sighed. "Come on, Isabella. You're going to bed."
"Oh good."
"Alone."
"Rats." She hiccoughed.
Charles swung around just enough to glare at his uncle. "I can't believe you gave her alcohol and intoxicated her. I'll deal with you later."
Uncle Sebastian waved to Charles. "Good night, Charles. Have fun."
Laughter followed Charles all the way up the stairs.
After he'd trudged up the long, steep flight of stairs carrying Isabella, he stopped for a moment at the top. Finally catching his breath, he carried her the rest of the way to her bedroom. Sarah stood in front of the door with her hands folded in front of her.
"Sarah, I need help with Lady Isabella."
"Yes, your grace."
"My uncle gave her…" Why was he telling her this? That was something Isabella would do. "Never mind. Just open the door."
"Yes, your grace." Sarah opened the door wide, giving him room to maneuver his load to the bed. He flopped Isabella down on her back then pulled her legs over until he was certain she wouldn't fall off. As much as he'd like to stay and help Isabella himself, it wasn't the time.
"Sarah, get Lady Isabella comfortable for bed."
"Yes, your grace."
Charles left the room and closed the door, leaning against the other side once he was in the hallway. As he ran his hand down his face, he couldn't keep a corner of his mouth from rising. Even inebriated, Isabella was irresistible. He made his way wearily to his own rooms and sighed. Charles wished Isabella was staying and they were already married. Would his dream of them being together come true?
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