The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,59

challenge to keep up with Hellion and her whippet of a groom, and just the effort Winter needed to grind his surging emotions to dust. Still, Hellion and Iz took the race easily by several lengths, and when he caught up to them, the lad chortled in triumph, pumping a fist into the air.

“Feel better?” Iz asked, trotting briskly past to cool down the lathered horse.

“Well done, you.” Winter shrugged and pushed a smile to his face. “Thanks for the race. I needed that, so thank you.”

“What’s wrong?”

He swallowed, his throat working, the words spilling out of him. “I had a sister. She died.”

…

Isobel wanted to weep at the unguarded, vulnerable agony on Winter’s face, and before she could help herself, her fingers had reached over to tug on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, milord. Death is never easy.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Winter asked, his gaze snapping to her hand.

Flushing, Isobel snatched it away. “Both my parents are dead.” She blinked, worried about her impulsivity or that he might make the obvious leap to connect the similarities between his wife and Iz. She hadn’t exactly been creative with her nickname. Winter might be distracted with his own concerns, but he wasn’t stupid. “Consumption,” she added swiftly, fighting a blush at the lie and grateful once more for her cloth covering.

The truth was her parents had died in an unfortunate carriage accident. Her sister Astrid had been convinced that it’d been foul play—an attempt by their unscrupulous uncle to inherit their father’s vast fortune—but nothing had ever been proven. Their uncle’s efforts to marry Isobel off to Beaumont had sharpened their suspicions, though he had not been successful. And his niece had married the intractable, complex man perched on the horse beside her, instead. She resisted another urge to touch him, keeping her hands firmly on Hellion’s reins.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Winter said.

“It was a long time ago.”

Side by side, they trotted in silence through Hyde Park for a while. She risked a peek at him through the gap in her mask and cap, but his attention was on the path in front of them as they cantered along the winding Serpentine. The lake glittered from the rays of the afternoon sun, a bevy of swans landing gracefully in the distance. If she wasn’t so nervous about giving herself away, she would have stopped to stare. As it was, everything inside her was caught up in the man at her side.

“How did she die?” she asked.

“Opium,” he murmured. “I couldn’t save her. Oliver and I were too late.”

“Is that why you don’t get along?”

He didn’t answer for a long time, and she wanted to kick herself. Damn and blast, she was Iz not Isobel. A groom, not his wife. She’d let her emotions overrun her. He would see through her for sure.

“We never have,” he finally said. “Not as children, nor as men. Prue was the glue that held us together, and Oliver is driven to be everything I am not.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “He should have been duke, not me.”

“No.” It was out before she could curb her tongue, and she felt his gaze flick to her. “I mean, you’re the firstborn. It’s your right and duty.”

“What do you know of duty, young Iz?”

She faltered, then tossed her chin. “I know that running away from it is never the answer.”

“And do you know that from experience?” He made a tutting noise. “Were your parents local gentry in some country parish? You’re educated, lad. A fool would know it. So why are you here apprenticing to be a groom? Running from duty?”

God, he was sharp. Or perhaps she wasn’t as convincing as she should be. Isobel pinned her lips and urged Hellion into a quicker gait. Let him assume what he wanted. She risked exposing herself if she tried to explain. He caught up to her after a few minutes and, despite the earlier spike of tension, they fell back into silence.

“It’s complicated.” His low voice shivered through her. “With the duke and me. My father is a hard man. Autocratic and ducal to a fault. I could never measure up as a boy, and as a man, I vowed not to.” He trailed off, but Isobel said nothing. This rare glimpse into her husband was more than she’d expected. He wanted to speak and he felt comfortable enough to do so. “My mother died of a broken heart. He could never love