Chapter 6
Thaddeus strode irritably out of the house and into the garden. The gentleman who had pulled him away was a particularly dull business contact, and he was annoyed with the man for taking him from Isolde’s side, and doubly annoyed to find her gone when he returned.
One of the women standing nearby had informed Thaddeus that she had seen Isolde going toward the garden.
Thaddeus had ignored the woman’s very thinly veiled hint that she would have never wandered off from a marquess; he thanked the woman curtly and headed for the garden.
When he did not immediately see Isolde, his frustration deepened. He strode further into the garden, methodically checking any spot she might be.
Then he heard what sounded like a woman’s muffled cry, and something struck fear into his heart. There was no reason to think it was her, yet he could not stop his steps from speeding up.
Then he rounded the corner and came upon Crowley crowding Isolde against a hedge, a look of pure terror on her face. All his annoyance fled as the fear in his heart seemed to consume his entire body. For a moment, he froze, feeling as though he’d collapse.
And then the anger bloomed within him like a raging fire.
He threw himself across the remaining space between them and grabbed Crowley’s shoulder, yanking him away from Isolde. Crowley had the audacity to grab at her as he went, causing her to stumble forward.
Thaddeus shoved him away and caught Isolde as gently as he could in his arms. For a moment, she clung to him, staring up at him with wide eyes.
Then she scrambled away, averting her gaze – but in those few moments, the fear in her eyes and the tears shimmering on her eyelashes had made his blood boil.
Behind them, Crowley was sputtering something about Isolde tempting him.
Thaddeus whirled around to face him, barely restraining himself from punching the man in the face. Instead, he gripped both lapels and pulled Crowley close so he could lean down into his face.
“Leave my sight,” he said, low and dark, “or I shall make you regret your entire existence.”
Crowley’s protests cut off with a whimper, and for a moment, he just stared at Thaddeus, mouth opening and closing without sound like a fish trying to breathe air. Then Thaddeus released him, and he scurried away without looking back.
Thaddeus took a few deep breaths to calm himself before turning back to Isolde. She was staring at him, and when he met her gaze, it looked like she might cry.
“Lord Hartington,” she said, her words trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Whatever for?” he asked, confused, but she barely seemed to hear him.
“I told him I wished to leave. I tried to get away from him,” she continued. The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
“Miss Fairchild,” he interrupted her, voice firm but gentle. “It was very clear his attentions were not wanted.”
She sucked in an unsteady breath and then nodded. He noticed her glance jump to his hands and wondered if she had been afraid not only of the impropriety but of his anger.
“I am not angry with you,” he said, holding her gaze. “And even if I were, I would not hurt you. You never need fear that from me.”
She exhaled the breath, and he was relieved to see the fear leave her eyes. She still looked badly shaken, however.
“Perhaps before we return to the ball, we can walk a bit more in the garden. To calm our nerves,” he suggested.
“Yes, please,” she replied, relief flooding her face.
He gestured for her to go before him to the main path, and then he fell in walking beside her.
He didn’t want to force her to make conversation, so they walked in silence, and he found himself listening to her breathing.
It had been light and fast, but the longer they walked, the more it slowed.
As it evened into a steady rhythm, he felt his own body relax in kind.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly, and he glanced over at her. “For saving me. It seems to have become an unfortunate habit for you.”
“I would not call it unfortunate,” he said, and then did not trust himself to say more. He looked at her face once more. Though she had calmed down, she still looked stiff and nervous.
At that moment, he would have given anything to make her smile, or even just to chase the worry away. He halted on the path, turning to face her and very gently reaching down to take her hand in his. Even through their gloves, he felt a spark at their touch. It made his head swim a little.
She glanced between their hands and his face, her eyes curious. He squeezed her hand gently.
“Before we go inside, I want to reassure you again, no trouble will come to you from this. I will make sure of it. And I promise you that I will also make sure our plan succeeds. You will have the love match you deserve.”
Her eyes warmed at his words, and she suddenly looked full of hope. It lit her face from within and made his stomach swoop.
A light breeze picked up and tugged a loose curl from her hair, so that it fell down against her cheek. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed it behind her ear.
She smiled at him, and the whole moment seemed to slow down, crystallizing in a way he was sure he’d never be able to forget.
The moon came out from behind a cloud and fell upon her face, and she almost seemed to glow. His gaze was drawn to her lips, and once more he noticed their particular shade of pink.
She suddenly seemed very close to him, and he realized how little movement it would take to close the space between them. He longed to do just that, to lean down and press his lips to hers, to feel for himself how soft and warm they would be …
He suddenly caught hold of himself. What was he thinking? He had just been promising her that he would see their plan through. Kissing her was not part of that plan – it would only complicate things and jeopardize her future even more. He could not be so selfish.
He let go of her hand and stepped back, looking away.
“I fear I am monopolizing your company. If you are well, we should return to the ball. We should dance at least one dance, don’t you think?” he asked, then hastily added, “for the sake of appearances.”
He didn’t dare look at her, but when she replied, her voice sounded steady.
“Yes, of course. Let us go in.”
He must be the only one so affected. Of course, she did not feel the same – she had been forced into this engagement, so why should she ever think of him as anything but a problem to solve?
They made their way inside, and to avoid anyone asking where they had been, he swept her right into the next dance. Isolde was graceful and skilled as a dancer, and they proved well-matched as partners.
Still, Thaddeus could not stop his thoughts from swirling as though they, too, were performing a waltz.
Marriage had never been his goal, but rather an eventuality he intended to put off as long as possible. He was happy living as he was, a bachelor with the freedom to spend his time as he wished.
And yet now suddenly the idea of someone sharing his life with him, of binding himself to someone, did not feel like such a faraway possibility or such a heavy burden.
He looked down at Isolde in his arms, cheeks rosy from the dancing, and resisted putting into words what might have brought that change about. Instead, he sought to distract his own mind, and his wandering eyes landed on a familiar face.
“My brother and your cousin look as though they’re having a splendid time,” he said, nodding toward the couple. They were across the ballroom, dancing together with brilliant smiles on their faces.
“Yes, they do,” Isolde said, following his gaze. “Who would have guessed at that?”
“Henry makes friends wherever he goes,” Thaddeus replied. “He makes it look easy.” He couldn’t help the twinge of bitterness in his gut. He wondered what it was like not to have the burden of being firstborn, always meant to take on the mantle of marquess.
Isolde turned back to look at him, her eyes lingering on his face as though trying to puzzle something out. He felt himself warming under her gaze and looked away.
If she had a question, though, she did not voice it, and they finished the dance in silence.
The night suddenly seemed to be wearing on Thaddeus, and he felt he might be getting a headache. So when a young gentleman shyly approached and asked if he might have Isolde’s next dance, he nodded in approval and gave her an encouraging smile as she took the boy’s hand.
Perhaps it was not just him who had been admiring Isolde’s dancing because after that, she had a queue of dance partners waiting.
He wondered if she might meet her future husband tonight, but the thought made him queasy, so he found himself a corner to lean into and tried to stop thinking altogether.
“Harrow!” Cassian’s voice broke through the crowd, and he looked up to see his friend coming to greet him, a blonde woman on his arm. Cassian said something to the woman as they approached him, and she glanced at Thaddeus before smiling and looking away.
“I was searching for you earlier, but you’d disappeared. Get up to any fun?” Cassian asked when they were close enough. Perhaps Thaddeus’s glower warned him off making any jokes like he had in their last conversation, because he quickly moved on, gesturing to the woman with him.
“This is my cousin, Lady Vivienne Bradshaw. She is out in society for the first time since the tragic death of her husband.”
“Pleasure to meet you, My Lady,” Thaddeus said, inclining his head toward her. He remembered Cassian mentioning her in the past.
As she returned his nod, he caught something in her face – something he’d seen many times before, a certain sort of hunger.
He remembered his mother and sister had mentioned her over dinner not long ago now, and how they’d both heard she was on the lookout for a second husband. Apparently, her first had not only left her with no heir but also with very little money.
“Reginald, you never said your friend Lord Hartington was so handsome. You should have better prepared me!” Vivienne exclaimed with a pretty laugh. “It seems almost unfair that you should be so handsome when you are already a marquess!”
He sighed internally. He sympathized with Lady Bradshaw’s perilous situation, but he had met many women who coveted the position that being his wife would bring. It made it difficult to enjoy their company, never knowing what their true motives were.
“Thank you for the compliment, Lady Bradshaw, though I don’t think I’m much more handsome than most of the men in attendance.”
Undeterred by his lukewarm reception to her flirting, Vivienne just shook her head as though she couldn’t believe it and gave him a sweet smile.
“Has your previous companion abandoned you, My Lord? What a shame, for a woman to leave a man who dances as finely as you do, standing in the corner.” Her tone was teasing, and her eyes were light, but he felt the pointed nature of her comment, nonetheless. It irritated him.
“I had asked to be allowed to rest, as my head wasn’t feeling well. However, I do find my spirits improving, and I think I shall look to return to her side.” He shifted his weight as if to leave, and Vivienne laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“I think you will have to wait in line,” she said, nodding across the room to where Isolde seemed to be negotiating between dance offers from two gentlemen. “Such a pretty face, My Lord. You had better keep her close if you don’t want to lose her.”
Thaddeus followed her gaze, and then couldn’t help looking around the room, noticing that many of the men present seemed to be looking at his bride-to-be.
An unnerved feeling crept up his spine, and he rolled his shoulders to push it away. Why should he feel bad about Vivienne’s teasing? That was the whole plan, for him to lose Isolde to another man.
No, not lose, he reminded himself. Their engagement was a facade; she was not his to lose.
“We really must have dinner, the three of us,” Cassian was saying as he turned back to the pair. “Now that Vivienne is widowed, it’s perfectly respectable for her to join us for dinner sometime. I know the two of you would get on so well.”
“Of course,” Thaddeus replied, suddenly ready to agree to anything to get out of this conversation.
He could not help thinking that he did not want to spend his dinner away from home when he could be enjoying Isolde’s company at Hartington.
“As I was saying, I must get back to Miss Fairchild. Excuse me.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed off through the room.
In the brief moment they’d been talking, he’d lost track of her again. His eyes searched the dance floor, but he could not find her.
He wandered the room and finally spotted her, sitting at a table with several other women. He strode toward them but slowed as he got closer, realizing how happy Isolde looked.
She was smiling brightly and speaking with the other women animatedly. She looked exactly as he had wished he could make her look, back in the garden.
He stopped, far enough away that she wouldn’t notice. He was sure if he approached the table she would go with him – for another dance, or home for the night. But somehow he couldn’t bear to interrupt the moment, not when she looked so happy.
He found himself longing for another moment alone, for a chance to make her smile like that himself. And try as he might to banish that thought, it would not go.