Chapter 189: Chapter Hundred And Eighty Eight

Damon stopped walking. He slowly turned his head.

Walking quickly toward him across the courtyard was a young woman. She was wearing an incredibly expensive dress covered in delicate white lace. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly.

It was Isabel.

Isabel walked to meet him. She was smiling a wide bright smile. Her cheeks were blushing a soft, pretty shade of pink. She looked exactly like a young woman who was hopelessly delighted to see her favorite person in the world.

She walked with a very slight, almost unnoticeable limp, favoring her right leg.

Damon looked at her. His face remained hard, cold, and unreadable. He remembered the last time he saw her, she was screaming at Camilla in his private bedroom and he had ordered her to leave. He did not have any patience for her silly games today.

"What are you doing here?" Damon asked bluntly. His deep voice carried absolutely no warmth or polite greeting.

Isabel stopped a few feet away from him. She did not let his cold tone ruin her happy smile. She batted her long eyelashes at him.

"I accompanied my father to the palace today, My Lord," Isabel replied sweetly, gesturing vaguely toward a group of older noblemen standing near the gardens.

She looked down at her right foot and smiled bravely.

"My broken leg got healed recently," Isabel explained, trying to sound strong and resilient. "The royal doctors did a wonderful job. I finally got to leave the house for a while and get some fresh air. It was so boring being stuck inside."

She looked back up at Damon, her eyes shining with admiration.

"I also heard the wonderful news," Isabel continued, her voice full of sweet praise. "I heard you collected your father’s land back from General Howe in a flawless victory. Everyone in the capital is talking about your brilliant strategy. Congratulations, My Lord."

Damon did not smile at the compliment. He just wanted to get into his carriage and go back to his camp.

"Thank you," Damon replied simply, his voice flat. He turned his body slightly, preparing to walk away.

But Isabel was not finished. She quickly signaled with her hand.

A young maid, who had been standing a respectful distance behind Isabel, hurried forward. The maid was holding a large, beautifully woven wooden basket. The basket was covered with a very clean, very expensive cloth. A delicious, warm, savory smell was drifting up from the basket.

Isabel smiled sweetly and pointed at the basket.

"We had a new cook hired at our estate recently," Isabel explained proudly. "And she makes the absolute best, most delicious, chicken soup in the entire kingdom."

Isabel looked deeply into Damon’s eyes, trying to look like a caring, devoted woman.

"My mother wanted me to bring you some," Isabel lied smoothly. Her mother had absolutely no idea she was doing this. Isabel had planned this herself to try and win his favor back. "She knows you work so hard for the army. She thought you could use something warm and nourishing to keep your strength up."

Isabel’s maid stepped forward and held the large basket out toward Damon.

Damon stood still. He looked down at the basket.

He thought to himself, his internal voice filled with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Chicken soup?" Damon thought, recalling a very similar situation from his recovery time. "Is this a new trend among noblewomen? First my wife tries to poison me with half a jar of salt in a bowl of grey oats, and now this girl brings me soup in a basket?"

He looked at Isabel’s hopeful, blushing face. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. She was trying to act like a sweet, caring wife. She was trying to replace Camilla.

Damon slowly reached out his large, black-gloved hands. He collected the woven basket from the nervous maid.

Isabel’s smile grew even wider. Her eyes sparkled with victory. She thought she had finally broken through his cold exterior. She thought he was accepting her gift with gratitude.

Damon held the basket. He looked directly at Isabel. His face was a mask of cold, unfeeling stone.

He spoke. His deep voice was perfectly polite, but it held a sharp, hidden edge of mockery.

"How incredibly thoughtful of Lady Ryde," Damon said smoothly. "I must show my deep gratitude for this generous gift."

Isabel blushed even harder, lowering her eyes shyly. "You are very welcome, My Lord. I am just happy to—"

Before Isabel could finish her sweet sentence, Damon completely ignored her.

He turned his head slightly. He looked over his broad shoulder at his aide standing right behind him.

"Kade?" Damon called out clearly.

Kade quickly stepped forward and stood at strict attention. "Yes, General?"

Damon raised the heavy woven basket slightly in the air.

"Do you care for some warm chicken soup today?" Damon asked his aide. His voice was serious, acting as if he were simply offering a piece of scrap paper.

Isabel froze.

Her sweet, shy smile instantly dropped off her face. Her eyes widened in shock.

She stared at Damon, unable to process what was happening. She had spent hours preparing that basket. She had brought it specifically for him to taste her care and devotion. And he was casually offering it to a lowly, ordinary military guard right in front of her face?

"My Lord..." Isabel blinked rapidly, stuttering in confusion. She reached her hand out slightly, wanting to stop him. "That is for you..."

But before Isabel could complain or demand the basket back, Kade’s happy, loud voice interrupted her.

"Yes, I do, My Lord!" Kade replied eagerly. He rubbed his stomach and smiled a wide hungry smile. "I am so hungry right now. I have been standing inside for a very long time. This soup smells absolutely wonderful!"

Damon did not hesitate for a single second. He immediately handed the basket over to Kade.

"Enjoy it," Damon said smoothly.

He turned his attention back to Kade, completely ignoring Isabel’s shocked, pale face.

"When we finally get back to the military camp," Damon instructed his aide clearly, making sure Isabel heard every single word, "send a regular messenger to the Ryde’s family residence. Tell the messenger to say my polite thanks to Lady Ryde for feeding my hungry guards today."

Kade bowed his head deeply, clutching the warm basket happily against his chest.

"Yes, your grace," Kade replied obediently. "I will make sure the message is delivered promptly. Thank you for the meal."

Isabel stood on the stone pavement, completely speechless. Her hands were curled into tight, angry fists at her sides. Her face was turning a bright, furious shade of red. She felt humiliated. He had basically called her expensive, loving gift guard food.

Damon finally turned his cold eyes back to Isabel.

He looked at her trembling lips and her angry eyes. He did not feel an ounce of pity.

"Don’t do things like this ever again, Isabel," Damon warned her strictly. His deep voice dropped into a low, dangerous, chilling tone that left absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

He took a tiny step closer to her, towering over her small frame.

"I am a married man," Damon stated firmly, stating the absolute fact loudly enough for the nearby nobles to hear.

He looked her right in the eye, his gaze piercing through her fake innocence.

"I do not want my wife to get the wrong idea about my loyalty," Damon continued coldly. "Do not bring me food. Do not wait for me in courtyards. Keep your distance from me."

Isabel gasped softly. Her eyes filled with angry, humiliated tears. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak once more. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to tell him that his wife didn’t even love him.

But Damon did not give her the chance to say a single word.

He simply turned his broad back on her. He walked past her, ignoring her, and walked directly toward his waiting carriage.

He opened the carriage door himself and stepped inside, sitting down on the velvet seat.

Kade turned to Isabel and bowed. " Thank you once again, Lady Isabel." He said. He quickly walked to the carriage, climbing in and sitting opposite the General, happily holding the basket of soup on his lap.

The carriage driver cracked his leather whip. The horses neighed loudly, and the carriage rolled smoothly out of the palace courtyard, leaving Isabel standing alone, furious and humiliated, staring at the dust.