✔ Mrs Mandray

47. The Truth

Isabella

The manor was silent when she and Rhys arrived in the drawing room. A low fire in the white stone fireplace gently light up the green tones and furnishing of the barely used room. It felt like a life time since she had been here.

Had it truly only been a day?

Barely a day and yet she felt so different, so resolute in her plan.

It was real now. Isabella had a place to go to, a house– cottage– with a modest garden and worn furnishing. There was no grandeur that she now saw before her. No gold trimmed cushioned or brass candle holders mounted on the walls but it was what she was used to. Similar to what she had been calling home for years yet different.

Isabella found herself pacing around the edge of the room, brushing her finger tips over every surface and object beside her.

Oliver would have his own room, a good one that they could paint any colour he liked. She would have her own room too, she would have her own house.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

Isabella had been raised to manage a house and under Tomas' guide she had been running two of the Mandray homes but–

"What are you thinking?"

"I can't own a house." She blurts out, frowning to herself.

"Of course you can," There's a confused lilt to the High Lord's tone. "It will be in your name."

"I've never lived on my own." She whispers the words to herself, pausing at a vase of flowers. "Will it be hard?"

He snorts and she half turns to face him.

"If you believe for a single second that you're going to be left entirely on your own then you have severely misunderstood the type of people my family are." There's such an understanding and warmth in his eyes that she finds her shoulders sagging in relief. "Not to mention Cassian will likely be visiting as close to daily as he can get."

A soft blush blooms on her cheeks. Oh she hates how her stomach flutters at any mention of the male. Isabella drags her embarrassed gaze from the floor, meeting Rhys' guarded gaze.

"Unless you decided against... that." He settles into one of the armchairs, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. "Either way we'll all still be here for you and Olliver."

That?

Oh... the conversation. The one where Cassian was struggling to tell her something. It would be a lie to say her curiosity wasn't immediately piqued by the knowledge that Rhys apparently knew what the illyrian was trying to tell her.

Even if it was slightly upsetting to find out she would be the last to know whatever this mysterious knowledge is.

Rhys seemed to have straightened up at her silence, concern clear in his eyes. Isabella finds herself trying to ask a question but she doesn't know what.

"It's okay." He murmurs, voice low and quiet as if reassuring a skittish animal. "You can ask me anything."

"Cassian wasn't exactly very clear." How could she word this without alluding to the fact she has no idea what's going on. Well she does have an idea but her list to confer with Nesta would have to wait. "We... well it was a time crunch, wasn't it?"

He nods, gently acknowledging her words.

"To be honest I was in a bit of a daze." She whispers, playing on the meek little female she had been masquerading as her whole life. It was horrifically easy to curl her shoulders in slightly, to have her gaze fluttering to the ground as she gnaws on her lip.