Chapter 18
Thaddeus ignored Vivienne’s admonishment to let Isolde go, pushing away her hand to try to stand up.
“Fine, fine,” Vivienne said, exasperated. “I’ll go after her. You must lie still.”
He sank back onto the lounge and watched as Vivienne swept out of the room. Annoyed as he was with her, he was grateful at least that she was going after Isolde. He needed her to come back so he could explain … everything.
After several minutes had crawled by, Vivienne returned, her face downcast.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I begged her to come back, but she refused. I tried to explain to her that whatever her impressions, they were mistaken, but she didn’t want to listen.”
Thaddeus felt his heart sink. He knew that people were already talking about him and Vivienne in the garden. There was no way to tell what Isolde had heard, but from the looks of things, whatever it was, she believed it.
He didn’t dare to hope she was upset because she cared about him. It was no doubt because his behavior would make others question their engagement, and therefore on her marriageability.
Cold fear struck his heart at the idea that she might be so angry that she would write him off forever, without ever knowing the truth. He struggled to stand once more, determined to go after her.
But his body had other ideas. As soon as he was upright, his head started to spin. He fell back onto the lounge, woozy and frustrated. Vivienne bent toward him, cloth in hand once more, but he shooed her away.
“Leave me be,” he said crossly. She’d done enough damage. She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Lord Hartington?” A man put his head into the room, and after a moment, Thaddeus recognized him as Isolde’s brother, Thomas.
“Yes, Mr. Fairchild. Do come in.” He gestured for Thomas to enter and then gave Vivienne a pointed look. “Thank you, Lady Bradshaw, for your assistance. You can go.”
Vivienne looked a bit put out but apparently could think of no reason to stay, so she dropped the cloth beside him on the lounge and left.
“Did your sister speak to you as she left?” he asked Thomas as soon as Vivienne was gone. Thomas shook his head.
“She came in asking for you, upset, but left again quickly after, seeming even more upset,” Thomas said. His voice was carefully polite, but his eyes looked accusingly at Thaddeus.
“I must speak with her,” Thaddeus said, once again starting to push himself up.
“Easy, Lord Hartington, easy,” Thomas said, gently stopping Thaddeus with a hand on his shoulder.
“If I know my sister, it’s best to let her go for now.
She rarely lets her emotions control her, but when she does, it takes a moment for her to calm down.
Besides,” he added, eyes glancing to the bandage on Thaddeus’s forehead, “you’re in no fit state to go anywhere, except perhaps somewhere you can properly lie down. ”
Thaddeus wanted to object, but he had to admit that Thomas surely knew Isolde better than he did.
And besides, his head was throbbing now.
The doctor had assured him he would be all right, but insisted he stay in bed for at least the next several days.
Thaddeus had to begrudgingly admit that all of Thomas’s advice was very sensible. He sighed.
“You’re right, I’m sure. I should probably just ask to be moved to my room upstairs for the time being, until I’m stronger.”
“I can help you, if you don’t mind,” Thomas offered.
“Yes, please,” Thaddeus replied immediately. He was relieved not to have to make more of a fuss than he already had. “We can go out that door back there – there’s a set of stairs. Generally only the servants use them, but it will be less trouble than going through the hall.”
“Of course,” Thomas agreed, and bent down to loop Thaddeus’s arm around his neck and put his own arm behind Thaddeus’s shoulders. “Ready?” Thaddeus nodded, and Thomas stood up, carrying the bulk of Thaddeus’s weight.
It was slow going, but eventually, they made it to his room, and Thomas set him down gently on the bed. Thaddeus expected the other man to leave, but instead he sat down in the chair next to the bed and fixed Thaddeus with a determined stare.
“Forgive me, Lord Hartington, but now that we have a bit more privacy, I feel it’s my duty as a brother to ask you if there is any truth to the rumors about you and Lady Bradshaw.”
Thaddeus raised his eyebrow, impressed with Thomas’s boldness and honesty. He also felt relieved to have a chance to finally explain himself to someone, even if it wasn’t Isolde.
“No,” he said firmly. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Lady Bradshaw, and there never has been.” Thomas nodded, but he was still watching Thaddeus with a hint of accusation, and Thaddeus felt compelled to say more.
“If I were a more superstitious man, I would say that it feels as though the universe is conspiring against me and your sister. It certainly feels as though ending our engagement would be the easier path, as ridiculous as that may sound. And yet every obstacle makes me want to fight harder for her.”
As the words left his mouth, he realized they were basically a confession, but he had no desire to take them back. In fact, he felt like he could breathe a little, for the first time since this whole affair started.
He glanced at Thomas and saw the other man looking back at him, taken aback.
“Do you really mean that?” Thomas asked, leaning forward intently. “You’re not just saying that because I’m Isolde’s brother?”
“No.” Thaddeus shook his head strongly to emphasize his words, even though it made him a bit dizzy to do so.
“No, I mean it. At first, I was merely keeping up with the pretense of it, hoping to find a solution that worked for both me and your sister. But now, I know …” He trailed off, his heart thudding, realizing how true the words were as he said them, “Now I know that I want to make this engagement work. I want it to be real.”
He impulsively sat back up, because nothing seemed more important at this moment than going to Isolde and telling her exactly what he had just told her brother. But his head spun again, and he had to close his eyes, pushing down the wave of nausea that threatened to make him tip over.
“Don’t worry, Lord Hartington,” Thomas said, reaching out to clasp Thaddeus’s hand. “If you truly mean it, I’ll talk to Isolde. I’ll explain everything.”
“No,” Thaddeus said adamantly, shaking his head.
“I should do it. It’s my fault that things are in the mess they are.
My friends keep coming between us. It’s my responsibility to fix all this and …
” He struggled to find the right words and then finally could only say, “It should be me. She should hear it from me.” He felt this so strongly, like he knew deep in his bones that things could only be made right if he found Isolde and talked to her himself.
He felt his heart speeding up, and it was a little hard to breathe – he was a bit light-headed, actually – but none of that mattered, he needed to get to Isolde, only she mattered, only she –
The lightheadedness increased, and the nausea returned and, for the second time that day, everything went dark.