Chapter 2
Doubts plagued Thaddeus as he walked back to Hartington. He’d come in the carriage, but he sent it on and went on foot.
It felt good to stretch his legs and get some of the tension from that meeting out of his body. He strode along the road, no longer worried about the dust that rose to stain his clothes.
He scoffed at himself for how eager he’d been to make a good first impression. What had he expected from Isolde Fairchild? Excitement?
Many women would be thrilled to marry a marquess, it was true, but he doubted any would be pleased to have it sprung on them in such a way.
He realized he’d been hoping he might even get a bit of gratitude, but now he saw how ridiculous that was. Had he really thought she might thank him for his part in the whole affair? In her mind, he was probably no better than her father.
He didn’t bother to tidy himself up when he returned, instead settling in his study in his dusty clothes to turn over the whole interaction in his head.
He had half a mind to go back and release her from the engagement altogether, except that he knew the news would already have spread. The engagement itself was scandalous enough. He needed to treat its end with a lot more delicacy, so that both their reputations could escape unscathed.
And in the meantime, he would feel much better knowing she was with him, at Hartington, away from her father and whatever other terrible ideas he might have.
He pictured the gleam in Crowley’s eyes the night before as he’d goaded the older man into making the wager and shivered. Yes, best to keep Isolde close.
He frowned at the memory of her reaction to his invitation, the only time her carefully composed manners had slipped. Surely the idea of being closer to him was not so terrible?
He’d have thought she’d be happy to be away from that house and her father. He certainly had been when his father had still been alive. It was still strange, being here without the shadow of his father’s presence – not feeling as though he wanted to flee every moment.
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?”
“Viscount Cassian, My Lord.”
“Show him in, thank you.”
Cassian swanned in, his dark blond hair disheveled in a way that suggested he’d been out riding. He combed it into place with his hand and dropped into the chair opposite Thaddeus’s desk, a teasing twinkle in his green eyes.
“And how are we feeling since last night’s … events?”
Thaddeus only groaned in response, and Cassian laughed. He seemed to be over whatever had bothered him last night. Well, at least one person wasn’t angry with him over this, then.
“I did tell you not to get involved,” he said.
“I can’t say I regret it, to be honest,” Thaddeus replied stubbornly. “I do not. I do, however, wish I could see how to best untangle the whole thing.”
“I was by earlier, but they said you were out. Did you go to call on Fairchild?”
Thaddeus nodded. “Fairchild wasn’t in a good state to receive company, if you can imagine,” he said dryly. Cassian snorted at this, and Thaddeus felt a twitch of irritation at his new fiancée’s father. “I still made headway with Miss Fairchild, though.”
“The daughter? Your intended?” Thaddeus rolled his eyes at Cassian’s gentle mocking.
“Yes. She agreed to stay here, and please don’t offer your opinion on the matter. I’ve enough opinions on all of this already.”
“You invited her to stay here?” Cassian asked, ignoring his request and raising an eyebrow.
“Why not?”
“I just – Are you actually intending to go through with this? I had honestly thought you only meant to save the girl from Crowley.”
Thaddeus opened his mouth to agree, but Cassian continued.
“I mean, I have heard she’s quite the beauty. Maybe after seeing her today, you thought the better of relinquishing your prize?”
The tone of Cassian’s voice and his referring to Isolde as a prize made something snap in Thaddeus. The bad mood he’d been nursing all day turned hot.
“I know you’ve always kept yourself quite clean,” Cassian said. He sniffed. “Never even a hint of rakishness about you. But if you’re legally wed, well, that’s another matter, isn’t it?”
“Enough,” Thaddeus said, slamming his hand onto his desk.
The sound made Cassian jump out of his lazy posture, his eyes widening.
He could feel his breathing speed up with his emotions.
“This may all be a mess, and apparently a joke to you – but as you said, that woman is my intended wife, and you should speak of her with respect.”
Cassian was staring at him. They rarely fought, and it was even rarer that Thaddeus was the one to instigate it. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him.
A knock on the door broke the tension, and Henry poked his head in without waiting for a reply.
“Ah, sorry Thad. I’ll come back in a bit.”
“It’s fine,” Cassian said frostily, standing. “I was just leaving. Good luck.” He snapped the last two words out as he slipped past Henry and out the door. Henry raised an eyebrow at the tone but evidently decided against asking about it.
He came in and took the seat Cassian had just vacated. Thaddeus tried to rein in his temper, realizing that his pulse was racing and his breathing rushed. He ran a hand through his hair, careless of how unkempt he must look.
“You already know what I’m going to say,” Henry sighed. “This is wrong. It isn’t the way one should go about these things, and it certainly isn’t the way to get Mother off your back about marriage.”
Thaddeus didn’t reply, and Henry leaned forward, nervous but obviously determined to say his piece.
“Maybe you’ve gotten a little … too used to doing things on your own, in your own way.
While you’ve been away.” Thaddeus was sure that Henry didn’t mean that to sound like an accusation, like he was suggesting that Thaddeus had run away.
But that was how it felt. The anger started to bleed out of him, replaced with guilt.
“Just think of us, too, Thad. What you do reflects on all of us. Think of Tatiana’s future. ”
His words cut more deeply than Thaddeus wanted to admit. His father had been buried a day and already he was flailing under the obligations of filling his shoes.
And yet, for all his father had been a perfect marquess, he had been a terrible father. Cold, demanding, and willing to sacrifice anything for his reputation. That was not the sort of marquess Thaddeus wanted to be. He could not be.
He leaned forward and spoke gently, but firmly.
“This might be a mistake, but it’s my mistake to make.
You know I would never do anything that would harm you, or Tatiana, or Mother.
Surely you know that,” he said, more to himself as he sat back and sighed.
“Miss Fairchild is innocent in all this and deserves to be treated as such. For the rest, I shall figure it out. I’m marquess now, and I shall act like it, for better or worse. ”
Henry looked at him for a long moment and finally nodded. He wasn’t convinced, but he’d decided not to fight. He stood and began to leave, but he paused at the door to say one last thing.
“This rivalry with Crowley will be the death of you, if you’re not careful.”
***
Isolde had sent word that she would arrive early in the afternoon, and to Thaddeus’s chagrin, it appeared the whole family had decided to welcome her.
He doubted very much that Isolde wanted to be met at the door by a whole party of people, but there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps best to get all the introductions out of the way, anyway. He bounced on his feet as her carriage pulled up.
When Isolde stepped out of the carriage into the afternoon sunlight, he had to catch his breath. She wore a deep blue dress in a shade that matched her eyes and complemented her hair.
It was simple yet well-made, showcasing her figure modestly yet undeniably. He’d noticed she was pretty the day before, of course – the rumors of her beauty were no lies. But between nerves and not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he hadn’t truly taken in the sight of her.
He’d been thinking that morning of the last time he’d seen her, a few years ago in one of his infrequent trips home. He’d been on a walk because he never wanted to be inside when his father was home if he could help it.
He’d come around a bend in the path, and they’d nearly run into each other. She had her hands full of wildflowers that she’d picked, and one particularly pretty one that she’d tucked behind her ear.
She had been lovely then in a still girlish way, smiling shyly at him as he stood aside to let her pass.
Now, as he held his hand up to help her down from the carriage, he could see she had fully bloomed into womanhood.
All the hints of beauty that had been there from the start had come to fruition, and she was dazzling. He did miss the flower in her hair, though. He idly thought that he should put one there himself and then wondered what he was thinking.
He shook himself and realized everyone was waiting on him to make the introductions. He’d found it odd when he realized that despite the close quarters, his family had never formally met Isolde, or either of her siblings, in any social setting.
Apparently, the Fairchilds mostly kept to themselves, making required social appearances but little more.
Tatiana had told him that they were seen as always on the edge of impropriety, saved by the title and the careful behavior of the children.
He’d thought back to their conversation, and Isolde’s comment about not having so many suitors as he might expect. More fallout from her father’s actions.
“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled to everyone’s waiting stares. He caught Henry giving him an incredulous look while Tatiana giggled behind her hand. He blushed.
“Mother, Henry, Tatiana, this is Miss Fairchild.” He paused a bit before adding, a bit weakly, “My betrothed.” He hastened on in the growing awkwardness, “Miss Fairchild, this is my mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Hartington, my brother, Lord Henry Harrow, and my sister, Lady Tatiana Harrow.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, My Lady, My Lord, My Lady,” Isolde said, softly but clearly, and dropped into a curtsy.
She was the picture of a perfect lady, and he was seized with a desire to look over at Henry and demand he explain how she was in any way ill-suited to be the wife of a marquess.
He shoved that desire down without looking at it too carefully. It was irrelevant because they were not actually going to marry. But still, surely no one could find any objection to her.
His mother and Henry returned the greeting with a similarly formal tone, but Tatiana, bless her, bounded forward to take Isolde’s hand.
“Now that we’ve been properly introduced, I hope you won’t be so formal.
I’m ever so excited to know you. I’ve often wanted to come over and say hello to you and your sister, but Henry said it wouldn’t be becoming.
But now we’ve met, we must be friends, and you must introduce me to your sister, as well! ”
Isolde looked a little overwhelmed at such a greeting, but she smiled warmly.
“Thank you, I’m sure my sister would love to meet you, if there’s an occasion.
” She glanced carefully to his mother as she said that, as if tacitly acknowledging she wouldn’t be pressing any luck.
He thought again about how there was nothing objectionable about her, and this time the thought made him feel a bit sad.
How constrained she must feel to every social nicety, feeling that she could never put a toe out of line because of her family’s precarious position.
Tatiana pulled Isolde inside, still chatting happily. Henry and his mother followed behind, and he saw them exchange a glance, but he could not decipher its meaning.
“Tatiana,” he called, and his sister turned to him with a happy smile. He knew her support was born of her own dreamy, girlish ideas of romance, but he was happy for it all the same. “I have to attend to some business matters. Perhaps you’d like to give Isolde a tour of the house?”
“Oh yes, of course!” Tatiana beamed. “It’s a stuffy old place, but it’s not so bad. I shall show you all my favorite spots.”
Isolde still looked a bit overwhelmed, but she smiled and dipped her head.
“Thank you, Lady Tatiana. That would be lovely.”
“Just Tatiana is fine, please! After all, we are to be sisters, aren’t we?
Let’s just be cozy, like good friends. I shall soon have you calling me Tati like Thad and Henry.
” And Tatiana looped her arm through Isolde’s and started to lead her away – no doubt toward the library, Tatiana’s favorite haunt.
As they walked away, Isolde threw a glance back at him, and he realized he was somehow the person she knew best in this situation.
Thaddeus felt a desire to laugh at the absurdity of it, followed by a twinge of regret. Perhaps he should have cleared his schedule and given the tour himself.
But no, of course not. She was in much better, more lively hands with Tatiana. And she likely didn’t wish to see him, anyway.
Suddenly feeling quite grumpy, he forced himself to turn toward his study.
“Thaddeus.” He hadn’t realized his mother was still in the entry, watching him.
“Yes, Mother?” he asked, cautiously. They had not fully discussed the situation yet, and he was afraid to know her thoughts.
Unlike his father, she had always encouraged him to be kind and trust his instincts – but he feared this situation might be a bit too unconventional, even for her. Sure enough, her face was solemn.
“You are the marquess here now, and I am only too happy for it, my darling. I have full faith in you, and you have my full support. But …” she hesitated, glancing down the hallway, “are you sure this isn’t a mistake?”
I’m not sure of anything, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t admit that now, not when his mother had just professed her faith in his abilities.
He followed the direction of her gaze, watching Isolde listen quietly as his sister chatted about something. They had stopped near a window, the sun coming through to burnish Isolde’s hair.
And he realized that he was sure about one thing. He could not leave her to the whims of fate, not if there was something he could do about it.
“Please don’t worry, Mother,” he said, turning back to her and squeezing her hand where she’d laid it on his arm. “I’m sure.”