Chapter 13
It had been hours since Thaddeus and the others had left on the hunt, but Isolde was still buzzing from the moment they’d shared in the courtyard.
The way he’d leaned into her, so close she could feel the heat from his body, and the look in his eyes – her stomach was full of butterflies.
She lost at every game they played because she could not keep her mind on anything but what he might wish to talk to her about. Still, Cornelia was having a marvelous time and seemed to have made many new friends, and that made Isolde smile.
When they sat down to lunch, she was relieved to see she’d been seated with Tatiana and Annora, along with another lady at the party whom she did not know.
Then Lady Bradshaw swept over and took the last seat at the table, and her mood dipped.
Still, she reasoned with herself that she had not had much interaction with the lady herself, and perhaps she should give the woman a chance before deciding she disliked her.
“Miss Fairchild, I can’t help but confess that I think you ever so lucky,” the unknown lady at their table said.
Isolde had somehow missed her name while lost in her thoughts.
“It was long rumored that the marquess did not intend to marry at all, and yet you have stolen his heart!” The young woman looked a bit starry-eyed.
Tatiana and Annora both smiled, Tatiana in her sweet way, and Annora giving Isolde a more knowing glance.
But Lady Bradshaw gave the biggest smile.
“Yes, indeed, Miss Fairchild,” she said, “it was quite the sudden turnaround. I think you must tell us how you managed to capture his heart so quickly. Why, I’ve known him for ages, and I only learned of your name after the engagement.”
Isolde sucked in a breath, feeling the chill of Lady Bradshaw’s words despite her smile. The woman leaned in and continued.
“In fact, I’ve decided you must have some kind of magic. Nearly all the gentlemen in attendance here seem to have equally fallen for you.” It seemed like a compliment, but the words made a bitter feeling slide through Isolde, as though they contained a hidden poison.
“I’m sure that isn’t the case, Lady Bradshaw,” she stammered, “though you are so kind to say so. I can’t really say how it came to be.
I had met Lord Hartington a few times, as the meadow at the edge of the estate borders my house as well.
When we met again as adults, we realized we had something special between us, and before I knew it, we were engaged.
” Isolde hoped she was being convincing.
She had never been particularly good at lying.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Lady Bradshaw said, sitting back with a smile still on her lips. “My cousin Lord Cassian – who is Lord Hartington’s good friend, as I’m sure you know – had intimated a very wild story to me about the origin of your engagement, involving a bet at the gentleman’s club.”
Isolde felt herself turn scarlet, mortified. She had not expected Lady Bradshaw to know about that and certainly had not expected her to bring it up in conversation!
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Annora said, laughing. “How on earth could a bet result in a marriage proposal?” She made it seem like such a silly idea, and Isolde felt a rush of gratitude for her cousin – but at the same time, her mortification increased.
Annora’s lie was believable because it was such a laughable idea. And yet, it was what had happened. She had nearly forgotten how she got here, and that the marquess had won her hand in a game of cards, like property.
She had been so excited to meet him later, to speak with him alone about this important matter he alluded to – but what if her intuition was wrong, and it wasn’t anything exciting or to do with his feelings?
Perhaps he only felt their plan was going too slowly and wanted to strategize about how to move it along.
The thought tied her stomach in knots, and she frowned to herself.
Get ahold of yourself, Isolde! You can’t let some silly infatuation with the marquess distract you from finding a good match, someone who is well situated enough to offer help and shelter to you, and especially to Cornelia. Getting her out of harm’s way should be your focus.
She sighed, thinking of everything Thomas had told her. Yes, she had gotten too distracted. She needed to work toward finding a match, someone who would hopefully love her enough to allow her to bring Cornelia with her to their new home, out of her father’s clutches for good.
After the meal had finished, Annora pulled Isolde off to a bench in the corner of the garden.
“I just needed to tell you not to pay any attention to Lady Bradshaw!” she said, her face now much angrier than the facade she’d put up during the luncheon. “I’ve met her a few times over the years, and she’s always struck me as bitter and ambitious.”
Isolde appreciated her cousin for trying to soothe her concerns, but she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Whatever was or was not happening between Lady Bradshaw and Thaddeus, it was none of her business.
“Don’t worry about me, Annora,” she said, shaking her head as if to shake away the thoughts that troubled her. “I’ve already told you, there is nothing romantic between me and the marquess.”
She could tell Annora wanted to say more, so she changed the subject.
“But speaking of romance, I saw the way Lord Henry was looking at you last night at dinner. He is besotted with you, and I think perhaps you owe it to yourself to see where it might go.”
“No, darling,” Annora replied, folding her arms stubbornly. “I told you, I promised I wouldn’t pursue him anymore. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
Isolde sighed, wanting to say more, but apparently, she’d had the desired effect of discouraging the whole conversation, because Annora stood up and grabbed Isolde’s hand.
“Come on, darling, let’s stop all this talk of romance and go have some fun!” And she dragged Isolde off to play more games.
***
Her own thoughts of romance were not so easily dissuaded, Isolde found. As she went upstairs to dress for dinner, one of the maids ran over to her.
“Note for you, miss,” she said, holding it out as she bobbed a curtsey.
“Thank you,” Isolde said, taking the note as she went up the stairs. Who would be sending her notes? But as she looked at her name on the outside, her heartbeat quickened. She was sure she recognized the handwriting – it looked the same as the letter Thaddeus had sent her from London.
She hurried to her room so she could read it privately. Opening it with shaking hands, she saw that it was indeed from Thaddeus. He asked if she would meet him at midnight, in the orangery, after everyone had gone to bed.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she could feel her earlier resolution to stop worrying about Thaddeus’s feelings weakening. After all, was this the request of a man who cared nothing for her?
To meet him late at night, in a secret place … it was very nearly scandalous! Didn’t it mean that what he had to say must be something intimate and private?
All through dinner, her mind went back and forth between possibilities. One moment, she was sure that Thaddeus must have felt the same glimmer of possibility between them as she had.
The next, she convinced herself that the reason the meeting was so clandestine was just that he feared drawing attention to them with so many people in the house.
She barely remembered to eat; she was so nervous and excited. And with how her stomach was fluttering, perhaps it was for the best. Unlike the night before, she felt too shy to try to catch Thaddeus’s eye.
She glanced at him a few times when he was occupied with other guests, but never for more than a moment, worried that if their gazes met, he would be able to read everything in her heart – and so too might anyone else who was looking.
After dinner, everyone retired to the music room for entertainment, and Isolde sat nervously in the corner, wondering how best to manage slipping out to the orangery. Would it be suspicious if she stayed up after everyone had gone to bed?
Especially if Thaddeus did, too? And what if others tried to stay up with her? Many of the guests seemed to be in the mood to linger by the piano for hours yet.
Finally, she decided the best option was to retire to her own room as soon as seemed polite, and wait out the rest of the evening there, until she could be sure she could slip to the orangery unnoticed.
Thankfully, Lady Hartington and a few other of the older women took their leave after an hour or so, and Isolde waited a bit longer before retiring.
She tried to fill the time by reading one of the books she had found in the library, but she was too anxious to sit still.
Nervous energy jittered through her body, and the only thing that soothed it even a little was to pace around her room, thinking through what Thaddeus might have to say to her, and what she might say back.
Finally, the clock chimed midnight. Isolde crept out into the hallway and started making her way downstairs. She had barely made it down the stairs, however, when she heard someone calling her name.
“Miss Fairchild, a moment.”
She turned to find Lady Hartington walking toward her. Her heart started to race, as though she’d been caught doing something wrong.
Lady Hartington stopped at the parlor door and opened it, gesturing for Isolde to follow her in. The room was empty, but a fire still crackled in the grate.
“Please, sit,” Lady Hartington said. “I won’t keep you from your bed for long, I simply wish to speak with you for a moment.”
Isolde sat nervously in the chair across from Lady Hartington, doing her best to keep her spine straight and her face neutral. Lady Hartington gave her a long, hard stare, and then finally spoke.
“I know what you’re up to, Miss Fairchild.”
Isolde’s heart leaped into her throat. How could she have known that Isolde was going to meet Thaddeus? Isolde felt herself blushing as she tried to think of a respectable reason that she would be meeting Thaddeus so late at night.
“Lady Hartington,” she began, but the other woman held up a hand to stop her.
“I know exactly why you’re marrying my son,” she said. Isolde nearly gasped with relief that this confrontation wasn’t about the meeting, but then her nerves resurged at the intimidating look on Lady Hartington’s face.
“Yes, I understand, and I won’t allow it,” Lady Hartington continued. Isolde frowned. What did she mean by that?
“You won’t allow it?” Isolde asked, confused.
“If you think that by claiming my son’s heart, and therefore his fortune, you’ll be able to pull your father out of his sinkhole of debt, you’re gravely mistaken.”
Isolde did gasp, then. She felt her cheeks burn with shame to know Thaddeus’s mother thought so little of her.
“Lady Hartington, I assure you, I want nothing of the kind!” Isolde exclaimed. Even as she said the words, however, she felt a twinge of guilt. After all, she was hoping to use her engagement to Thaddeus as a way not only to make a good match for herself, but to help her family as well.
But still, she thought, that’s quite different from planning to actually marry Thaddeus and try to take his wealth for myself!
Lady Hartington gave her a severe glare, clearly unconvinced.
“We shall see,” she finally said, standing up. “If that is your design, you may be sure that I will see the end of it. For now, I bid you good night.”
Not knowing what else to do, Isolde stood and followed Lady Hartington from the room.
With the other woman watching, she had no choice but to head back upstairs to her room.
She was so shaken that she sat for several minutes on her bed, waiting for her breathing to calm and her heart to stop racing.
Finally, hoping desperately that Lady Hartington had actually gone to bed this time, she left her room once more and headed for the orangery.