Isabella’s POV
“Because Isabella likes it.”
Ethan’s gruff voice echoed in the small space.
York made a snorting sound of disbelief. “At least pretend that she doesn’t have you warped around her little finger,” he muttered under his breath.
It was obvious Ethan had heard him, though, because the sound of a slap followed the comment, and York grunted in response.
“If this doesn't work, just be prepared to run laps until you can no longer use your legs,” Ethan growled in annoyance.
Seemingly unperturbed by the threat, York grumbled something about the abuse of power before falling silent.
I stood just outside the box, suppressing laughter at the exchange. The thought that my carefree, proud husband, who often scoffed at the hypocrisy of the aristocracy, was now conforming to their standards simply because he thought that’s what I wanted, quickly sobered me. And he was doing this while I was plotting to deceive him.