Chapter 10
Thaddeus had brought a whole stack of business papers to read over on the journey home, but they lay beside him in the carriage, untouched. He couldn’t manage to focus on them, anxious energy buzzing through his body. He stared out the window and willed the carriage to go faster.
There was a sudden jolt that nearly knocked him out of his seat, and he had barely righted himself when the carriage lurched to the side, and he heard the coachman shouting something.
He braced himself, fearing they were about to crash, but thankfully, the carriage slowed and then came to a stop, still leaning sharply to one side.
Thaddeus stood carefully and opened the door to look out.
“Careful, m’lord!” the coachman urged. He was hurrying around from the front of the carriage and offered Thaddeus his hand to help him down.
From the outside, the problem was clear – one of the wheels had struck something in the road.
The impact had cracked several of the spokes and broken the outer rim.
Thaddeus sighed in frustration. They were still far from Oxford, too far to ride the rest of the way on horseback and send back for the carriage. He looked to the coachman.
“How long will it take to fix?” he asked.
“Several hours, m’lord, at least. We’ll not only have to repair or replace the wheel, but we’ll need to check the undercarriage for any other damage.”
Thaddeus frowned, his anxious energy turning into a dark cloud. The sun was already low in the sky, so it was unlikely the carriage would be ready today. They would have to find somewhere to stay for the night and set out again in the morning.
“Wycombe’s not far,” his manservant suggested, having climbed out of the carriage after him and heard the whole exchange. “There’s an inn there where we can stay for the night.”
The coachman set to work unhitching the horses, and soon they were riding for Wycombe. When they arrived, he sent the manservant to fetch help for the carriage, while he went to the inn to get them rooms.
Thankfully, the inn was not too full, and he was able to procure rooms for himself and his men. He ought to have gone up to his room and tried once more to devote his attention to business matters – but he was in even less of a mood to concentrate than before.
Instead, he stayed downstairs and got himself a glass of wine, settling into a corner to drink it.
He had been nursing the drink and his bad mood for about an hour when he heard someone call his name. Looking up, he was shocked to see Cassian making his way across the room, Vivienne not far behind him.
“Harrow, what a lovely surprise to meet you here!” Cassian said, sitting down at the table beside him. Vivienne sat down across from Thaddeus and gave him a warm smile.
“It’s a shame we did not realize that you were traveling today, Lord Hartington,” she said. “We could have all made the journey together. That would have made things much more pleasant!”
“My dear cousin, you hurt my feelings!” Cassian said, falling back into a melodramatic pose. “You make it sound as though you prefer Lord Hartington’s company to my own.” He laughed and shot Thaddeus a wink.
“Don’t say such wicked things,” Vivienne murmured, giving Thaddeus a sly smile. He sighed internally. Apparently, she had not yet given up her designs on him.
“I wasn’t intending to stay here for the night,” Thaddeus said, ignoring their banter. “Unfortunately, a wheel broke on my carriage. I shall be on my way as soon as it is fixed.”
“But surely not until the morning, at least,” Cassian said. “Which, of course, means that you shall be free to have dinner with us! We should thank the rock that broke your carriage wheel, as we owe it the pleasure of your company.”
Cassian’s joking only increased Thaddeus’s irritation with the whole affair. And he certainly did not want to join them for dinner.
Then again, he did not want to have dinner alone.
He wanted to have dinner at home, in Hartington.
With Isolde. He thought morosely about having dinner by himself, alone in his room, and his frustration with the day deepened.
He looked at Cassian’s easy smile and Vivienne’s pleasant face and thought that perhaps it was better he did not eat alone after all.
“I would be happy to have dinner with you, thank you,” he said.
***
The dinner was an uneventful affair. Perhaps learning from last time, Vivienne kept the subjects light and amusing and didn’t bring up marriage.
She was pleasant enough company when she wasn’t needling him, but he could not forget the things she’d said at the last dinner.
Every time the conversation settled into a pleasant rhythm, something she would say or do would remind him of that other, more contentious conversation, and he would inwardly flinch.
And of course, any time he was reminded of that conversation, he also thought of Isolde. At first, with a flare of annoyance at the things Vivienne had said, but then he would get lost in just thinking about her.
Her quiet grace, her bright eyes, the way her face lit up when she smiled … He missed it, he had to admit to himself. He missed it all.
By the end of dinner, it could not have been clearer in his mind that he would have preferred Isolde’s company. He supposed perhaps he ought to be grateful to Cassian and Vivienne for helping him come to terms with his own feelings.
When dinner finished, Vivienne bid the two of them good night and retired to her room. Cassian stayed, insisting Thaddeus join him for one more cup of wine.
It was Cassian’s third or fourth cup – Thaddeus had lost count – and he had never been good at holding his liquor. His speech had started slurring a little, and he had a dangerous glint in his green eyes.
“Harrow,” he said, slinging his arm around Thaddeus and leaning in so close Thaddeus could smell the wine on his breath, “you mustn’t let yourself be defeated by this situation.”
“And what situation is that?” Thaddeus asked dryly, shrugging off Cassian’s arm.
“This whole thing, with the Fairchild woman. You mustn’t go through with it. There are better options. Real women.”
Thaddeus felt a low simmer of anger at the man’s words. Heedless, Cassian continued.
“And we both know where you can find such a woman. She’s right in front of your eyes.” Cassian gave a wobbly gesture toward the seat Vivienne had just vacated. “You and I both know Vivienne would make a much better match for you than Fairchild’s daughter.”
Thaddeus abruptly stood up, containing his anger for the sake of their friendship. He hauled Cassian up to his feet.
“You’re drunk, Cassian,” he said, voice so dark it was almost a growl. “Go to bed and let us both forget this conversation ever happened.”
He strode off before Cassian could say anything more, leaving the man calling incoherently after him.
***
Thaddeus had given his manservant strict instructions to rouse him early in the morning, so that they might get back on the road as quickly as possible.
They were up before the sun, and Thaddeus was relieved to hear that the carriage was repaired and ready to go. Not half an hour into the day, they were loaded up and ready to depart.
Thaddeus was just about to step up into the carriage when he heard a feminine voice calling for him. For one wild moment, he thought of Isolde – but no, this was not her voice.
He turned and saw Vivienne coming toward him from the inn’s door. He sighed. How had she even known he was about to leave? He had to credit her dedication if nothing else.
“Lord Hartington, you’re leaving so soon?” she asked as she reached him, a pretty pout on her face. “What a pity, I had hoped we might travel together.”
“Forgive me, but as I said yesterday, this was an unplanned delay, and I am in haste to return to Oxford.”
“Well, I am ever so glad that I caught you before you left, for at least I have a chance to express to you how much I enjoyed your company last night.” She leaned slightly closer to Thaddeus with a beguiling look on her face that Thaddeus was sure many men found very appealing.
Unfortunately for her, he was not one of them.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Cassian come out of the inn and amble toward them. He cursed internally, knowing his appearance would only lengthen the conversation and delay him further.
“It was such fun, and I was hoping that, once we are back in Oxford, I might visit you at Hartington?” Vivienne was saying. Thaddeus was struggling to find a good way to rebuff this request when Cassian reached them.
“I was just saying to Vivienne that it was nearly time for the annual hunt at Hartington,” Cassian said, smiling. “Quite a few of us have been wondering when our invitations will arrive.”
Thaddeus’s jaw tightened.
“The annual hunt was my father’s tradition,” he said, “and I had very little to do with it.”
“Still,” Cassian protested, “it would be a shame to let such a fun tradition die, especially when everyone looks forward to it every year. It would be terrible to disappoint them.”
Thaddeus had certainly not planned to contemplate hosting future events at Hartington so early in the morning, and especially not to discuss such things with others. His impatience got the better of him, and he barely managed to keep the tone of his reply civil.
“I shall think about it,” he said, backing away from the pair and putting his foot on the carriage step. “Unfortunately, I really must be going. I bid you both a good day.”
He threw them a shallow bow before quickly swinging himself up into the carriage, shutting the door, and rapping to let the coachman know to drive on. He avoided looking out to see the impression his abrupt departure had made.
***
A few hours later, they finally arrived at Hartington. It was late, and he was tired and hungry.
Still, he could not stop himself from inquiring if Isolde had gone up to bed yet. Upon hearing that she was still awake and in the library, his feet seemed to take him in that direction of their own accord.
He gently pushed open the door, not wishing to startle her. His eyes were immediately drawn to where she was sitting by the fire, reading. The firelight glinted off her red hair, giving it a golden shimmer.
Her face was peaceful, fully absorbed in whatever she was reading.
He stepped a little further in and let the door close softly behind him, letting himself take in the sight of her. She looked like she belonged here, in Hartington. With him.
He thought he’d like to commission a painting of her in just this setting and hang it in the hallway with the other family portraits. No, not there – in his study, where only he got to look upon it.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just gazing at her. She paused her reading and suddenly seemed to sense his presence, looking up. Her eyes met his, and she broke into a smile.
“Lord Hartington!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and rushing up to him. “We did not expect you until tomorrow!”
He matched her smile, and as she got closer, his heart began to pound. He expected her to stop a few feet from him, but held out his hand to her, nevertheless.
He was shocked when she took it with her own, and even more shocked when she stepped closer and lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
He froze, and he felt her do the same. The moment seemed suspended in time, her hand in his, her lips just inches from his cheek. She was so close he could feel her quick, shallow breaths on his skin.
Then time resumed, and she stepped quickly away from him, blushing scarlet.
“Forgive me, My Lord,” she stammered. “I do not know what came over me, I –”
She seemed at a loss for words after that, and he felt the same. After a moment, he dropped her hand and stepped back, bowing slightly.
“I believe I must have startled you, Miss Fairchild. I apologize. I only came to let you know I had returned, and to wish you good night, which I shall do now.”
The smile slipped off her face, and he would have done anything to put it back, but he wasn’t sure how. He felt he was making a mess of things, but his own feelings were so confused he could barely think straight.
“Good night, Lord Hartington,” she said demurely, so different from just moments ago, and then dropped into a curtsey. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed again and left.
The moment he was alone in his room, he put his hand to his cheek.
The spot where she had kissed him was still tingling.
He closed his eyes and relived the moment – her lips, soft and warm on the skin of his cheek, her hand putting slight pressure on his as she pushed herself up to reach.
His heart fluttered in his chest, and he cursed himself for handling the moment so poorly.
This was why it was better to stick to the plan. He and his confused feelings would only make things worse for her. She had not agreed to any of this, and he had promised her that he would help her find a love match, not fall in love with her himself.
He thought of Cassian’s prodding about the hunt. He had never cared about the hunt one way or the other, but perhaps it could accomplish something. It would bring any number of eligible gentlemen to the estate, and Isolde could have her pick of them.
Yes, it was the perfect cover to help their plan move forward. He resolved to speak to his mother and send out the invitations tomorrow.
The sooner he could get it arranged, the sooner Isolde might find a match, freeing him of his conflicting emotions, and getting her out from under his roof before he did something he regretted.
He had to keep reminding himself that whatever tender feelings he harbored toward her, she deserved so much better than him.