Chapter 17
Isolde lay back on her bed and sighed. Cornelia sat down next to her and took her hand, patting it gently.
Her sister had followed her back to the main house from the hunting lodge – thankfully, no one else had come. She knew it was impossible that she would never see Lady Bradshaw again, but she was wishing for it fervently.
“Why did you let Lady Bradshaw get under your skin like that?” Cornelia murmured.
“I know she was being horrible, but it’s not like this is an engagement you wanted.
If Lord Hartington falls for Lady Bradshaw, wouldn’t that make him more inclined to help break the engagement quietly, in a way that leaves both of you free to marry others? ”
Isolde shut her eyes, not wanting to try to explain her feelings to her little sister. She had also realized, once she reached her room, that she had once again managed not to eat anything. First breakfast, now this – it was nearly lunchtime, and she was starving.
“Izzy?” Cornelia asked tentatively, “you don’t care if Lord Hartington falls in love with someone else, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said, but even her own ears caught how her voice trembled.
“Oh, Izzy …”
“Never mind,” Isolde said, sitting up. She felt miserable, but staying here with her sister’s pity wouldn’t help.
Perhaps she should find the staff and ask for lunch to be brought up to her room.
Or perhaps she should go back to the hunting lodge, to prove to Lady Bradshaw that she wasn’t so easily scared off.
She was weighing these two options when Annora burst into the room, out of breath.
“Isolde, darling! Come quickly, Lord Hartington was thrown from his horse and badly injured!”
Time seemed to stop for a moment, and all Isolde could hear was the thudding of her own heart. She felt the blood drain from her face, and Annora reached out to grab her hand.
“Isolde?”
Annora’s touch brought her back to herself. She jumped up from the bed.
“I must go to him, immediately!”
***
The yard around the lodge was full of people, but Isolde paid them no mind, rushing right through the door and looking around wildly. Thankfully, her gaze landed on Thomas, who was standing in a corner.
“Thomas!” she said, nearly tripping as she rushed to him, “Did you see? Is it bad? Where is he?”
“Calm down,” he said, hugging her. “It was a bad fall, but the doctor says he’ll recover. He’s in the parlor.” He gestured across the room where an archway led a few steps down toward a half-closed door. “But Isolde –”
She didn’t wait to hear what else her brother had to say but pulled herself out of his embrace and ran in the direction he had pointed. Some deep fear spurred her on, making her feel she couldn’t be sure that Thaddeus was all right until she saw him with her own eyes.
She reached the few stairs and nearly leaped to the bottom. She heard Thaddeus’s voice – it sounded rough and pained. Her heart clenched in her chest. She was about to push open the door when another voice made her stop cold.
It was just a murmur, but she’d unfortunately become all too familiar with the voice that she heard. Lady Bradshaw was in the room with Thaddeus.
She took a small step toward the door, listening.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of.”
“Lady Bradshaw …” Thaddeus’s voice sounded a bit airy, like he was weak.
Isolde felt a compulsion to run to him, to throw her arms around him, and demand he prove he was going to be okay.
But the sound of Lady Bradshaw’s voice, and Thaddeus calling her by her name like that …
Isolde could only creep forward, unable to resist listening further even as the idea of them together made her feel sick.
She made it to the door and was able to peer in. Thaddeus lay on a chaise lounge, his face pale and his eyes closed. Lady Bradshaw was leaning over him, dabbing his forehead with a cloth.
“You know,” she said, “if you wanted to finish what we started the other night in the garden, there were less dangerous ways to get my attention.”
Isolde’s blood ran cold. She backed away but knocked the door as she went, and it clattered against the wall. Lady Bradshaw turned at the noise, and Thaddeus opened his eyes.
For one split second, their eyes met. Then Isolde turned and ran. She heard Thaddeus calling after her weakly, and Lady Bradshaw shushing him, telling him to let her go.
Tears filled her eyes as she hurried back to the entry hall and across it to the door, and she willed herself not to cry them. Not until she was back in her room and alone.
She was nearly to the edge of the yard when she heard Lady Bradshaw calling after her. She stopped instinctively, her good manners finally catching up with her. She blinked to clear away her unshed tears and turned to face the woman.
“Miss Fairchild,” Lady Bradshaw said, crossing her arms. “I think it’s finally time you and I have an honest conversation.”
Isolde glanced around at the yard. There were still plenty of people outside, but none close enough to hear them. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders.
“Some honesty would be nice from you, Lady Bradshaw,” she said with as much courage as she could manage. Lady Bradshaw smiled.
“Good, I’m glad you don’t want to pretend we’re friends. That makes it easier for me to say this: You ought to stay out of my way.”
Isolde gasped at this unexpected threat.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Thaddeus and I have been close for a long time. It only makes sense for us to be more than friends. I would benefit from his title and money, and he would benefit from what an exceptional wife I would make him.”
Isolde could only stare at the woman as she made such bold and blatant statements. Lady Bradshaw took a step closer to her.
“Marrying him is what I want, and I always get what I want.”
Isolde blurted out the first response that came into her mind.
“What about what Lord Hartington wants?”
Lady Bradshaw laughed, and it wasn’t one of her pretty, polite laughs. Isolde could tell the question had genuinely amused her.
“I know you are not suggesting, my dear, that he might want you? How could you possibly imagine he would want such a meek and mild little thing like you, when he could have a proper woman, one who knows how to take care of things?”
Isolde felt herself blushing, mortified, but she also felt a hot rush of anger. Lady Bradshaw may have a lot of advantages, but it seemed genuinely knowing Thaddeus wasn’t one of them. He would never think of her in such a cruel way, she was sure.
She looked Lady Bradshaw in the eyes.
“You mean, the way you take care of yourself? Flirting with any man with money, hoping one of them will pity you enough that you can ensnare them in your traps? Lord Hartington would never want a woman like that.”
She only had a moment to register the angry look on Lady Bradshaw’s face before she turned on her heel and stormed away, her anger the only thing that was keeping her tears at bay.