Chapter 15
Isolde wrapped herself up tightly on the way back to her room. The chill of the night air felt much sharper now than it had on the way to the orangery. She had waited there for nearly half an hour, thinking that
Thaddeus must also have been late, for surely he had not given up after a mere fifteen minutes? He never appeared, however, and finally she was forced to admit that he wasn’t coming.
As she made her way back to her room, she could hear other guests still up and about, and she wondered briefly if she should go to his room. Then she realized what madness that would be – she could only imagine what the gossip would be if someone saw!
She also realized she actually had no idea where his room was, which shouldn’t have made her feel unimportant, but it had. She made a mental note to find a way to get the information from one of the servants without arousing anyone’s suspicions.
Back in her room, sleep eluded her. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why he hadn’t come. It had been his idea to meet, after all. Was she so trivial to him that he did not even remember sending the note to ask her to meet him?
Morning came too soon, and she felt miserable as she pulled herself out of bed. She wished they were not entertaining guests, for all she wanted to do was stay in her room. She forced herself to dress and go down to breakfast.
Her bad mood did not improve at the breakfast table, as whispers seemed to flit around the room. Everyone but her seemed to be talking about something.
Annora had managed to sit beside Isolde, and after about ten minutes of this, Isolde turned to her cousin, intending to ask if she knew what everyone was talking about. She was surprised to see her cousin looking guiltily at her.
“What is it?” she murmured, keeping her voice low so only her cousin would hear.
“Darling …” Annora said sympathetically and then leaned a little closer. “I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you, my dear, but you’ve a right to know … Lord Hartington and Lady Bradshaw were seen together in the garden last night. Alone.
Isolde felt cold and then hot in quick succession. A riot of emotions danced through her. Thaddeus, alone in the garden with another woman? That woman? And apparently that’s what he’d been doing, instead of meeting her like he’d said he would.
She felt tears gathering in her eyes and forced herself not to cry. Perhaps this had been what he wanted to tell her about. Perhaps he had fallen in love with Lady Bradshaw, and he needed her to hurry up and fulfill their arrangement so that he could be free to marry her.
Isolde put down her silverware, her appetite gone. She wished she’d stayed in bed, never mind proper appearances. She looked around at everyone still enjoying their breakfast and wondered how long it would be before she could reasonably excuse herself from the table.
“Isolde?” Annora said at her side, her voice full of concern.
Isolde closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping her cousin would get the hint that she did not want to speak about it. That she could not speak about it.
She wasn’t sure how she made it through the rest of the meal. She did her best to put on a cheerful face, because the last thing she needed was to have people asking what was wrong, and drawing Thaddeus’s attention – or worse yet, Lady Bradshaw’s.
She thought of the woman looking smug, knowing she’d tempted Thaddeus away from his appointment with Isolde, and straightened her spine. Whatever else, that woman must not have such satisfaction.
Finally, breakfast was over, and the party started to prepare for the hunt. As they made their way outside, a few people started pointing down Hartington’s long drive. A carriage was making its way toward the house. Everyone watched as it came to a stop and the door creaked open.
Isolde’s heart jumped into her throat when Lord Crowley stepped out.
He beamed brightly at the assembled crowd, as if he thought they were there for him personally. He climbed down and made his way over to Thaddeus, who Isolde noticed was staring at Crowley with barely concealed surprise.
“Apologies for not being here yesterday, Hartington, but you know how business can be. Ever so grateful for the invitation.” He stuck out his hand to Thaddeus, who merely looked at it.
“Ah, Crowley!” It was Lord Bradshaw’s voice that rang out as he made his way to where Crowley and Thaddeus stood. He took Crowley’s outstretched hand and shook it, turning to face Thaddeus.
“Harrow, I ran into Crowley earlier in the week and took the liberty of extending him an invite to the hunt. The more, the merrier, eh?”
Thaddeus’s face was stormy, and Isolde was suddenly taken back to the night of the ball, when he’d seen Crowley attacking her in the garden. She felt quite sure at that moment that Crowley was not welcome at Hartington.
And yet, what could Thaddeus do? It would cause a great deal of talk if he were to turn Crowley away, after his friend had invited him.
Isolde was torn, half of her wishing Thaddeus would grab Crowley and throw him back into the carriage, ordering him off the property forever – but the other half of her was terrified at what that sort of scene would do to this already precarious situation.
Isolde thought she saw the same battle playing itself out on Thaddeus’s face.
Finally, he seemed to swallow his anger and shook Crowley’s hand. Relief and disappointment mingled in Isolde’s heart.
“Lord Crowley, what a surprise that you could join us. I trust you’ll have a pleasant time. We were just about to prepare for the day’s hunt.”
Crowley grinned widely.
“I’m sure I’ll have an excellent time, Lord Hartington. Thank you for your warm welcome.”
Isolde turned away, not wishing to look at the man anymore.
She was heading back toward the house when she heard Thaddeus call her.
Turning, she saw him striding her way. He beckoned her to follow him with his head, and she did, both of them stepping away from the crowd.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach – perhaps he would finally explain about last night.
“There will be a lunch at the estate’s hunting lodge today.
I’ll see you there.” He looked at her as though he was trying to tell her something important, but Isolde was perplexed.
Everyone would be at the lunch, why should they not see one another there?
And why wasn’t he saying anything about last night?
Did it really matter that little to him?
She felt her throat tighten with emotion but clenched her teeth. The courtyard was full of people – there were many eyes on them. She needed to play the part.
“Of course, My Lord,” she said, as sweetly as she could manage. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crowley wander over to her family. She remembered what Thomas had said and struggled to contain her panic.
“Excuse me, My Lord,” she murmured, already moving away even as she made her curtsey to Thaddeus. She reached her family a little out of breath and found Crowley and her father laughing together over some shared joke. She glanced at Thomas and could tell from his face that he was as nervous as she.
He was standing beside their father, a barrier between Crowley and Cornelia, who was practically hiding behind Thomas and looking deeply uncomfortable.
Her mind raced, thinking again of how she needed to fix this, and quickly. She could not let her father marry Cornelia to that horrible man. Even now, thinking of the feeling of his hands on her at the ball made her feel sick.
“Ah, Isolde!” her father said cheerfully upon noticing her, clueless to the feelings of all three of his children.
“One daughter successfully engaged, and working on the same for the other!” He had the audacity to wink at her.
She blushed at the way he was discussing marrying off his daughters in such a public way, as if they were nothing but business deals.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. She could not solve this entire mess right now. But she could, at the very least, get her sister away from Crowley for the moment.
“Cornelia, I’ve come to fetch you so you can come with me and help me with the games for the day,” she said, giving her sister as comforting a smile as she could muster.
“Now, Isolde,” her father said, frowning, “I had actually planned –”
“I’m so sorry, Father. I’m afraid Cornelia will be indispensable, and I must steal her away.” And without waiting for another word from her father, Isolde looped her arm through her sister’s and drew her away.
“Thank goodness, Izzy!” Cornelia whispered once they were a decent distance away. “I loathe that Lord Crowley. And I fear the worst as far as Father’s plans for me.”
“I know,” Isolde said grimly. “But don’t worry; I won’t let it happen.”
She tightened her hold on her sister and vowed she’d keep that promise.
***
The games had been set up by the lake today, not far from the hunting lodge where lunch would be served. Isolde did her best to enjoy the games, but as relieved as she was to have Cornelia safe among the ladies for a few hours, she could not help her thoughts from returning to Crowley.
Apparently, she was not the only one.
“Miss Cornelia, the buzz is you’ll be the next one wed, and a match nearly as wealthy as your sister’s!” one of the ladies twittered as they sat to take mid-morning refreshments.
“You’re always spreading such rumors,” another lady said with a laugh, but then she leaned in and whispered, “but oh, you must tell us if it’s true, Miss Cornelia. Are you to be wed to Lord Crowley?”
Cornelia blushed scarlet, a mortified look on her face, and Isolde rushed to interrupt.
“I can assure you I know of no marriage plans for Cornelia,” she said, “and as her sister, of course, I would know if anything were happening.”
“Hmmm, yes, I suppose …” the first lady said, sounding both skeptical and a little disappointed. Apparently, she was as fond of rumors as her friend had suggested, though, because she almost immediately turned to Lady Bradshaw.
“Well, we must have some entertaining thing to talk about. Perhaps Lady Bradshaw will regale us with the tale of how she was found alone in the gardens with Lord Hartington last night?”
There were murmurs and giggles among the whole group of ladies around them. Lady Bradshaw tossed her head and gave a pretty little laugh, as though she was very amused but a little shy. Isolde swallowed hard, wondering at how everyone could just discuss this in front of her.
“Well, I cannot deny that we were together in the garden, but I assure you dear, nothing untoward happened. Lord Hartington is an old friend and always a perfect gentleman. Although, of course,” she dropped her voice a little, as though confiding a secret, “I should be very flattered if he was interested in me. He is so kind, and of course, very handsome and rich.” She laughed again, and Isolde set her glass down on the table rather harder than she’d meant to.
Lady Bradshaw looked up at her for the first time, and then widened her eyes, as though she had forgotten Isolde was there.
“Of course, I am only speaking hypothetically, Miss Fairchild! I apologize, that must have seemed quite rude of me to say such things about your fiancé.” Lady Bradshaw said the word ‘fiancé’ like she did not quite believe it.
“I only meant to say that Lord Hartington is quite the match, and therefore of course, you are the luckiest among us, to have finally gotten him to think of marriage. Though between us, dear,” and she dropped her voice again, “I would advise you to keep a bit closer watch on him. Wandering around in the garden like that, someone might steal him. After all, nothing’s certain until you’re properly married. ”
Lady Bradshaw winked at Isolde, as if she’d just told her secret information that she should be grateful to receive. Isolde felt nauseated. Without really thinking, she stood up from the table.
“Excuse me, I am not feeling well,” she said, leaving the table as quickly as she could.
Her common sense was telling her not to leave, to stay and endure it with a smile.
But she’d had enough of smiling while people treated her horribly.
Her father, Lord Crowley, Lady Bradshaw … it was all too much.
She heard Cornelia calling after her, but she didn’t stop walking. She had to get away from all this.