Another Twilight

Chapter 2

Edward Masen is coming back after a self-imposed exile of six years. I am not sure how I feel about that. My head says it is a political decision. However, my heart can't help but beat faster. My treacherous body can't help but remember the pleasure it received from his body.

I am Lady Isabella Masen, wife—no, I remind myself, not wife but widow—of the late Lord Anthony Masen. My husband was a good man and a good husband, but I have not been a faithful wife.

And now the man I cheated upon my husband with is returning from France. He will take his rightful title as Anthony passed away without fathering a son, and Edward is his first cousin. Though it has not been a month since my husband died, people are already talking of us getting married. It makes sense, I guess. I already have a position as Lady Isabella Masen, and Edward has never been married. And now it is his duty to give the earldom an heir. Rather than bring a wife from another family and divide the estate, it is a better idea to marry me instead.

But can I let him touch me again? Should I let him touch me again, after hearing the last gasping words from Anthony? He had never openly berated me for my slip, but neither had he forgiven me completely. Every time I had cried and begged forgiveness, he said that he didn't wish to talk about it, that he would like to forget it all. You would think it was enough on a husband's part not to remind his wife of her transgression, but to me it was not.

Because after he caught Edward and me together, he never touched me, never kissed me, never even entered my bedroom.

To the outside world, we remained the same loving couple, the earl and his countess who were perfect for each other. He managed the province, I managed the manor house. Both of us played our roles in the society faultlessly. But behind closed doors, there was nothing but heartbreak.

My daughter cannot be Anthony's heir, but she saved my sanity. She was the only sunshine I had in a world where the days were as dark as the nights. She was the only sign of an earlier time when my husband had loved me as much as I loved him.

"Lady Isabella? Lady Isabella?"

Someone was repeatedly calling my name. Oh, why could people just not leave me alone? I was grieving my husband. Surely I deserved to weep in peace?

But no, I still have a role to play. And I must play it with dignity. I cannot run away from my responsibilities.

I take a deep breath and dry my tears. "What is it, Alice? Do we have another guest?"

Alice is my personal maid, a young girl with whom I feel more comfortable with than any other servant. Our housekeeper is a sour-tempered older woman named Mrs. Stanley, and our butler a blank-faced and seemingly emotionless man, who also happens to be the housekeeper's husband. Those two are made for each other.

"I apologize for disturbing my lady, but your mother is here to see you."

I sigh heavily. I love my mother; she is a caring, loving woman, but right now I wish to be alone. Her gregarious nature makes her chatter constantly, flitting from one topic to another. Ever since Anthony died, she has been paying me these visits every two or three days. And my patience is wearing thin.

Before I have time to compose myself, she breezes in, all fluttering hands and adoring eyes.

"Oh my dear child, how are you feeling today? You look sad—are those tear marks on your cheeks? Alice, is your lady eating well? Has she broken her fast yet? Go get her something to eat. Go, girl, don't just stand there gaping at me like a goldfish!"

Alice gives me a startled glance. I nod at her. Anything to make my mother stop talking.

And I suppose I should eat, even though I do not feel inclined to. If not for my Elizabeth, I would have slowly starved myself to death. Or taken a leap from the roof—that would have been much quicker.