Chapter 13
“I’m so happy you’re both here.”
It was obvious Ana María was telling the truth, for her velvet eyes sparkled, a grin brightening her face. It had been more than a week since they had seen one another, her sister and Gideon having been busy with political dinners and such. Isabel and Gabby were aware of their older sister’s duties as the wife of an MP, but sometimes they smarted. However, any frustrations they may have felt were extinguished by Ana’s excitement for their visit, which was infectious. Gabby grabbed Ana’s hand and twirled about, laughing gaily. When they stopped, Isabel smiled as Ana turned to her, grasping both of her hands.
“Querida, I’ve missed you.”
And Isabel had missed her older sister. So much so that she reached out, wrapped her arms about Ana’s waist, and tucked her face into her shoulder. Ana María’s arms came around her instantly, holding her tightly in a manner Isabel had always desired but never known how to ask for.
“Isa, has something happened?” Ana asked softly, rubbing a soothing hand along her back.
Isabel shook her head but did not lift it from her sister’s shoulder.
“I suspect she’s feeling a bit…emotional right now.”
She slid her eyes to Gabby and glared.
Ana María’s hold tightened about her shoulders. “Why would you be feeling emotional, Isa?”
Her grip on her sister increased.
“Is it Westhope?” Ana María’s voice turned hard. “Has he hurt you?”
?Ay Dios! How could she have forgotten how protective her older sister was? Sucking in a breath, Isabel pulled back and met Ana’s gaze. “He did not.”
Gabby snorted. “It’s Isa who’s breaking hearts. Lord Westhope is enamored with her.”
Isabel could not stop the rush of heat that swept up her neck, over her cheeks, and to the roots of her hair. While she knew Gabby was just teasing her, she had not told her younger sister how Westhope had seemed poised to kiss her in the shadows of the terrace at the Harrington ball…until Isabel had feigned a cough and scuttled back inside the ballroom. She had felt terrible, a feeling that had not dissipated, but the thought of kissing anyone but S—
“And are you enamored with him?”
Faith, what should she tell Ana María? She certainly couldn’t admit that she was encouraging the viscount’s affections to learn what he knew about French movements in Mexico, and the special push and pull between her and Sirius seemed too uncertain, too precious, to discuss in her sister’s drawing room. Without thinking, she slid her gaze to Gabby, desperate for an idea of how to respond.
“I think,” Gabby began, flopping onto a settee in a mass of crinoline, “that our dear Isabel is fond of the viscount but is hesitant to engage his affections.”
“Why?” Ana María slowly sank onto an armchair, her gaze glued to Isabel’s face.
Isabel paced around the matching armchair, her hands curling around the seat back. “I don’t intend to stay in England.”
Understanding swept across her older sister’s expression. “Oh. Of course.”
And with those three words, uttered with such forlorn sadness, a stone settled in Isabel’s gut. She’d always known that when Ana María married Gideon, her sister’s home would forevermore be in England. Gabby knew it, and so did Ana María. But they had never discussed what it meant for the three of them, and how one day their futures, their day-to-day lives, would be spent far away from one another. Two and a half years ago, this would not have bothered Isabel, for her sisters had been polite but indifferent strangers. Yet now…now that reality was enough to steal her breath away.
A melancholia settled like a cloud over the drawing room. Ana María busied herself with the tea tray, her mien pale as she prepared their cafecito. Gabby stared out the window to the little garden beyond, her hazel eyes clouded over. Exhaling, Isabel settled her gaze on a painting that hung over the unlit fireplace. Gideon had it commissioned from a visiting Mexican artist, and it featured a sweeping view of the Mexico City skyline, with the snowcapped mountains far in the background. And in the center of the foreground was a woman looking out on the view, her black hair tossed about on the breeze. An intense wave of homesickness crashed over Isabel whenever she looked at it, and she suspected it did the same for Ana María. Sliding her gaze to her sister, Isabel found Ana looking at it, as well, her lips pursed and her face in a frown.
Abruptly, Ana María dropped her spoon on the tray with a clatter. “I don’t like to think about you two leaving. Just the thought of being left here, alone, makes my heart feel like it might lurch from my chest.”
“But, Ana, you’re not alone.” Isabel leaned toward her. “You have Gideon.”
“And think of all the friends you’ve made, especially at the parish,” Gabby added.
After her marriage, Ana María had become involved in the parish church where Gideon had been raised. Isabel enjoyed visiting for Mass, but Ana had taken it upon herself to organize all manner of events for the congregation. Palm Sunday and Easter festivities, a fundraiser for the small parish school affiliated with the church, health clinics for parishioners, and more were overseen by her older sister, and Isabel was in awe of Ana María’s leadership abilities. Her sister had bloomed in her marriage to Gideon, and Isabel knew that despite how she ached for Mexico, Ana María would never call it home again.
“I know,” Ana mumbled, aggressively stirring cream into her coffee, “and I know Gideon loves me. But you are my sisters.”
Isabel swallowed down a painful knot of emotions and turned away. The sound of rustling fabric met her ears, and she peered back to see Gabby had taken a seat next to Ana, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.
“Ana, please don’t cry. It makes me uncomfortable.”
An amused snort slipped out before Isabel could contain it, and both her sisters glanced up at her, Gabby’s gaze full of mirth and Ana’s tinged with fond exasperation.
“Gracias for reminding me you are not deserving of my tears, pendeja,” Ana María grumbled.
“Ana!” Isabel and Gabby exclaimed in unison. When had their older sister said such a foul word?
It was Ana María’s turn to laugh, and soon the tense atmosphere was dispelled by the trio’s shared laughter. Over cups of coffee, they conversed and shared all manner of chatter about society gossip, the parliamentary bills Ana María was helping Gideon find support for, Gabby’s increased participation in her suffrage group, as well as speculation over what was occurring in Mexico.
“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Ana María said, jumping to her feet as she dashed to a cherrywood escritoire situated on the other side of the room. “Tío Arturo passed along a letter from Mother and Father. They are safe and well, gracias a Dios.”
Cupping a hand to her mouth, Isabel swallowed down tears of relief.
Ana María rejoined them, but held out an envelope to Isabel before she sat. “There was also a letter from Padre Ignacio for you.”
Hoping her hand didn’t tremble, Isabel reached out and grasped the yellowed, dirt-smudged envelope, her throat thick. Without hesitation, she tucked it into the small reticule at her side.
“Don’t you want to read it?” Gabby asked with a shake of her head.
“I’ll wait until tonight.” Her sister opened her mouth as if to argue, so Isabel turned to Ana María and quickly asked, “Will you read us Mother and Father’s letter?”
The deflection worked. Soon the sisters were discussing the news their parents shared, and what it meant that imperial forces were heading north to Guaymas in Sonora. Isabel hid a secret smile, for she had shared that information with Padre Ignacio after learning it from Sirius. But her smugness was short-lived because she knew it wasn’t enough. The constant worry for her parents made Isabel keenly aware of the letter in her reticule, and she pondered what words Padre Ignacio had written until her head pounded. She needed fresh air. She needed to read the letter in solitude. Isabel needed to escape.
Rising to her feet, Isabel smiled at her sisters…or hoped she did. “I’m going to walk to that little bookstore around the corner.”
Her sisters blinked at her, their mouths twisting, twin frowns on their faces. It was Gabby who spoke first, though. “Por supuesto. I figured you would want to visit because we were so close.”
Isabel nodded, silently praying for blessings for her ornery sister who always made her feel understood.
“Oh,” Ana María murmured, her gaze darting about. “Let me ask Consuelo to accompany you.”
“No.” Isabel realized she said the word sharper than she intended when her sisters jerked back their chins. Licking her lips, she tried again. “The shop is not far. Surely I can walk there and back without encountering trouble.”
“You would think,” Gabby murmured, taking a sip of coffee.
Ana María rolled her eyes. “Very well. Enjoy yourself.”
On the short walk to the bookshop, Isabel allowed herself a moment to contemplate what it would mean to return to Mexico and leave her sisters behind. Because while neither of them had said it, Isabel knew her younger sister would be in England for longer than she would. Despite her sister’s claims to the contrary, Gabby had made friends and established relationships with an ease that made Isabel jealous, and she didn’t think her sister would rush to abandon them. She could be wrong, of course, but if Gabby followed her back to Mexico, it would be several years still.
Straightening the hat on her head, Isabel pushed open the door to the bookstore.
“Good afternoon, miss,” the proprietor called, a stack of books in his hands. With a quick dip of his head, he disappeared into a back room.
Thankful to have been spared the awkward practice of small talk, Isabel looked around. She had been pleasantly delighted when she discovered this little nook of a store nine or so months ago. It was tucked between a butcher shop and a bakery and had an impressive selection of books, from philosophical tomes to penny dreadfuls. Isabel had also found several Spanish translated works, and had eagerly thanked the shopkeeper for stocking them. Surrounded by rows of books, the air filled with their musty, slightly vanilla scent, Isabel expelled her stresses with a great exhale.
That was until she turned down an aisle and promptly collided with a firm chest. Stumbling backward, she would have fallen except a strong pair of hands gripped her upper arms and stopped her descent. Isabel looked up, her breath catching in her throat.
“Isabel! Are you all right?” Sirius asked, drawing her closer until his chest was almost pressed against hers. His sapphire eyes were large with concern.
After a heartbeat, she nodded. Isabel willed her body to step away from his warmth, but she was suddenly unable to control her limbs. It had been a handful of days since she’d seen him at the museum…where he’d brought her to release against his tongue. Heat singed her cheeks as she stared up at him.
“What are you doing here?” she eventually managed.
The corner of his mouth ticked up, his eyes tracing her face. “I live only two blocks away, by the park.” At her questioning look, he added, “The town house with the blue door?”
That sounded vaguely familiar. Isabel dipped her head.
Sirius glanced over her shoulder, and she assumed he was checking to see where the proprietor was. “I was selecting books to send to Dancourt Abbey.”
“For your library?” she asked, knowing he took pride in building up his collection.
“No, actually.” Sirius dropped his hands and stepped back a half step. “I periodically send books to the families who live there. Any books they don’t keep they donate to the local schoolhouse. Sometimes they send requests.” He pulled a scrap of parchment from his coat pocket and showed her.
A fluttering feeling began low in her belly, and Isabel clasped her hands together tightly. Sirius sent books to his country estate simply for his employees and their families to enjoy? His thoughtfulness didn’t surprise her. Not really. When she thought back to the weeks she spent as a guest at Dancourt Abbey, it had been apparent to Isabel that Sirius was greatly respected and esteemed by his employees. There was always someone, whether a local farmer or man from the mill, who stopped by to chat with him, and it was not uncommon to hear their combined laughter echoing about the halls. Once, Isabel had stepped outside for a walk when she’d encountered Sirius and Whitfield playing cricket on a makeshift pitch with a handful of boys from the village. She’d watched them covertly, not wanting to seem at all interested in their antics, until a bend in the path had obstructed her view. He shared his charm and consideration with everyone.
It was probably why he had agreed to help her in the first place, and nothing more. Anything that occurred between them after that was a matter of opportunity and convenience.
And yet he said you weren’t boring…
Sirius took a step closer to her, a pucker between his brows. “What’s wrong, Isabel?”
She instantly bristled. “Why do you think anything is wrong?”
“I can tell,” he said cryptically, his gaze softening.
Isabel didn’t know what to think about that, nibbling her cheek as she glanced about. The shop owner was still in the back storage room, and she could hear him rummaging about, leaving her and Sirius alone. Just standing this close to him, his scent in her nose, left her a bit breathless. Isabel risked a glance up at him, finding him considering her patiently.
Something about his calm countenance had her blurt out, “I received a letter.”
He nodded. “From whom?”
“Padre Ignacio,” she said quickly, as if saying the name might make her voice tremble.
Sirius widened his stance, concern filling his eyes. “Is it news of your parents?”
“No,” she blurted out. Catching Sirius’s surprised expression, Isabel clarified, “We received a letter directly from my mother stating they were well.”
“I’m relieved for you.” He raised his hand to her cheek but abruptly paused…before letting his arm drop. “So why do you seem so perturbed to hear from him?”
“Because…it’s just…” She mashed her lips together as her gaze darted about, her mind racing to explain all that she was feeling. Glancing back at Sirius, her shoulders sank. “I—I don’t have anything new to share with him.”
Not wanting him to see the embarrassment on her cheeks, Isabel pivoted to face the nearest bookshelf. Her gaze fell on the cover of Five Weeks in a Balloon, by Jules Verne. How Isabel wished she could ascend in a balloon again, but instead of being tethered to the earth—to her problems—it would carry her away. Far, far away from her sense of failure. From the kind man who sought her company but left her cold. From the man who stood behind her, whom she wanted for herself despite knowing he could never be hers.
“Do you expect Father Ignacio to shame you?”
“No.” The answer was immediate. Not once had Padre Ignacio ever shamed her. And yet the idea of failing him made her nauseated. “It’s just…” Isabel shook her head as she trailed off, dipping her chin so he could not see her expression.
After a tense moment, he exhaled, long and loud. “Have you read it?” When Isabel shook her head again, Sirius’s tone turned soft. “Would you like to read it now, while I’m with you? Sometimes it’s easier to do difficult things when you have a friend for support.”
What a lovely sentiment, and even lovelier that Isabel finally had a friend who might be supportive of her. With a nod, she extracted the letter from her reticule and slowly unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed over the writing and stopped, a frown pulling on her mouth.
“It’s not from Padre Ignacio,” she whispered.
“Who’s it from, then?” Sirius asked.
Isabel looked up at him, panic cinching around her throat. “Fernando Ramírez.”
The only thing Sirius knew about this Fernando Ramírez was that he used to be engaged to Ana María Fox, and had tapped Isabel with her irksome task. Yet the dread that contorted Isabel’s face at the realization the man had written to her was enough for Sirius to hate him.
Instead, Sirius grasped Isabel gently by the elbow and ushered her farther down the row, until they came to an armchair tucked into a narrow corner. A ginger cat lay nestled in a circle on the seat, and though Sirius was loath to chase it away, he wanted Isabel to be comfortable. So Sirius scooped up the grumpy feline and set it on its feet, and he rolled his eyes when it bared its teeth at him before sauntering away. Without waiting for her leave, Sirius sat, Isabel bundled in his arms. Her skirts made the position a tad uncomfortable, but his need to hold her overrode any discomfort.
“Sirius, really?” she scolded, her mouth pursed in reproach. Yet she didn’t attempt to escape his grip.
“Mr. Johnson is getting a bite to eat. I told him I would keep an eye on the shop,” Sirius said, squeezing her side, “so we have all the privacy needed to read that letter.”
Isabel rotated her head to look at him. “You truly want me to read it to you?”
Sirius resented the doubt in her voice, but did not mention it. Instead, he tucked a silky strand of black hair behind her ear and nodded. “Go on, then.”
With a sigh, Isabel unfolded the letter again, smoothed out the corners with her fingers. “It may take me a moment to translate.”
“There’s no rush,” he said, making a show of settling more comfortably in the chair.
A fleeting, perhaps fond, smile lit her face. Clearing her throat, she began.
Se?orita Luna,
I hope this letter finds you well. Current circumstances have made communication a trying affair, so forgive me for not being in touch more frequently. However, Padre Ignacio has told me that you have a new suitor.
The word suitor made Sirius clamp his teeth together.
Isabel’s mien paled at the mention of her father, and Sirius dared to hold her a bit tighter. How dare Ramírez use her father to manipulate her. Sirius allowed himself a fleeting moment to daydream about choking this faceless man—
Sirius snatched the letter from her hand, folded it carefully, and slipped it back inside her reticule. “That’s quite enough of that, I think.”
He’d expected Isabel to respond with indignation at his high-handed ways, but instead she sank back against his chest and covered her face with her hands. Grappling with what to do or say, Sirius settled on burying his face in the curve of her neck, his arms locked snugly around her.
The sound of Isabel’s throat working met his ears, and while he didn’t think she cried, it was obvious her emotions had been rattled. Sirius longed to ask her what she was thinking, but held his tongue. She would tell him when she was ready, if at all. And Sirius would learn to be satisfied with that.
He suspected he’d have to content himself with whatever Isabel was willing to give him.
Isabel tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “I can’t imagine why I thought I could do this. Me, timid, awkward Isabel Luna.”
“Stop that,” Sirius growled, dragging his hand up to cradle her face. “There is nothing about you that is timid or awkward. The Isabel Luna I know is fearsome. Sharp-witted. Quotes Frankenstein with clever ease.” When Isabel chuckled, he ran his thumb over her smile. “You dazzle me. Please don’t allow the words written in that letter to speak louder than the words I’m telling you right now.”
Her obsidian eyes glinted with her unshed tears. “You’re just saying that because you’re kind to everyone. I know, because I’ve been paying attention.”
“Not close enough, it seems.” Sirius held her gaze for a long moment before he leaned forward to slowly press his lips to hers. It was a short kiss, and still it rocked him to his core. “Instead of hearing Ramírez’s words in your mind tonight as you lie in your bed, hear mine, Isabel. The man who doesn’t want anything from you aside from your happiness.”
It was a lie. An acrid lie, for Sirius wanted too much. Much more than he could ever venture to deserve.
Determined to chase away his morose thoughts as well as hers, Sirius rose and set Isabel on her feet. “Johnson will return soon, and we certainly don’t want him to find us curled up like two rabbits in a burrow.”
Isabel shook out her skirts while her gaze never left his face. “Certainly not.”
Gripping his lapels…while he tried to keep a grip on his self-possession, Sirius gestured to the shelves with a jerk of his head. “Will you help me select some books to send to Dancourt Abbey?”
A sunrise emerged across her expression. “I would love to.”
Sirius smiled, thankful to steal a bit more time with her.