Chapter 23
Isolde hurried further into the gardens, breaths quick and shallow, pulse racing. For a moment, she’d had such hope. When Thaddeus had appeared, she’d felt everything would be okay.
All she needed to do was step forward, ask to speak with him. She cursed herself for not moving more quickly. The surprise of seeing him and the rush of emotions that came with that had halted her, and some part of her had wanted to stay in that moment.
It had felt they were the only two people in the world, and she’d longed to hang onto that feeling.
And then he’d been swarmed by the other guests, her chance lost as she was pushed farther away from him. She had tried to push her way back to him, but the crowd was too thick and the excitement too high.
Her voice had been drowned amongst all the others. And then Crowley had appeared by her side, forcing her to move away as she tried to get him to leave her alone.
He’d pursued her around the room, and then she had looked up to see Thaddeus on the dance floor, in Lady Bradshaw’s arms. It was as if her hopes had all been dashed on sharp rocks, and she’d had to escape.
She could hear someone running after her, and she hoped desperately that it was Thaddeus, wanted to turn to see if it was – but she dared not in case it was Lord Crowley.
So she just plunged on, heedless of the path she took. “Miss Fairchild!” She heard Crowley’s voice call behind her. So it was him on her heels. The memory of him accosting her last time they were alone in a garden flashed before her eyes, and she hurried her steps.
Fully running now, she skidded around the corner of a hedge – and nearly ran into a stone wall. She had turned into a dead end.
She heard Crowley’s footsteps behind her, and somewhere nearby, a woman was laughing softly. She thought she caught a man’s deep voice, as well. She wondered if she dared to cry out for help, but stayed quiet, hoping that Crowley had not seen where she’d gone, and would pass by her unawares.
No such luck. He rounded the corner, face red from running, and frowned at her.
“You are testing my patience, Miss Fairchild,” he said, striding toward her.
“Please leave me alone, Lord Crowley,” Isolde replied, doing her best to keep her voice from shaking. Had anyone seen them leave? Would anyone come looking for her?
I can’t believe I’m trapped like this, with him, again.
“I think it is well within my rights to pursue a lady who was so rude as to leave me standing on the dance floor alone.” He took another step toward her.
“I simply did not wish to dance, and I don’t believe that entitles you to chase me into the gardens,” Isolde said, stepping back until her back hit the wall. Crowley moved closer, and she made herself step forward again, away from the wall.
She didn’t want to be forced against it by him like last time. She listened, but she no longer heard any other voices. It seemed she was alone.
Suddenly, Crowley lunged at her. She tried to avoid him and nearly managed it, but he caught hold of her arm, his hand circling her wrist.
“Let go!” she shouted, heedless of who might hear her. She tried to jerk her arm away and run, but he tightened his grip and yanked her back toward him.
“I’m tired of these games, Miss Fairchild,” Crowley spat. “Do you intend to marry me, or shall I marry your sister? Answer me now, once and for all.”
His fingers around her wrist were crushing, and she pulled helplessly at his unyielding grip.
She suddenly felt so angry – at Lord Crowley for being so beastly, at her father for putting her in this situation, even at Thaddeus, for confusing her and making her wish for things she didn’t know if she could ever have. It was all so overwhelming.
She turned and kicked Lord Crowley hard in the shin, and he cried out in pain. His grip on her loosened, and she snatched her hand away. Crowley’s face contorted with anger, and he threw himself after her, his hands mere inches from her gown –
“That’s enough,” a male voice said, and Isolde turned toward it, sure it was Thaddeus.
Instead, she saw Henry standing in the gap in the hedge, and Annora just behind him, her face pale and full of anger. Henry strode past Isolde to grasp Lord Crowley firmly by the arm and push him away from her. Annora rushed to Isolde’s side.
“This behavior is beyond ungentlemanly, Lord Crowley. It is unconscionable, and I shall see you escorted from Hartington at once.”
“You misunderstand, I only –” Crowley began to say.
“We heard everything,” Annora said, her voice like steel. She put an arm around Isolde, and Isolde gratefully leaned into her.
“Indeed,” Henry said. “You threatened Miss Fairchild, and from the looks of it, you intended to lay hands on her.”
“He already did,” Isolde said, finding her voice. “I would not be surprised if there were bruises on my wrist.”
Annora gave an angry gasp, and Henry’s face hardened.
“I’m going to take Isolde inside,” Annora said. “Lord Henry, will you be all right alone with Lord Crowley?”
“Oh, indeed,” Henry replied, his mouth set in a grim line. His grip on Lord Crowley’s arm looked ironclad.
Annora led Isolde toward the house, and a wave of relief washed over her. She had never been so grateful to her cousin for being on her side.
***
They slipped in through the front door and up the stairs, avoiding all the prying eyes in the ballroom.
Once they were back in Isolde’s room, Annora rang for some tea while Isolde settled onto a chair by the window. She pushed the window open a little to let in some of the night air, hoping its cool breeze would soothe her.
“Are you all right, darling?” Annora asked, coming to sit beside her. “Shall we fetch a doctor for your wrist?”
“No, thank you,” Isolde replied. “It is sore, but I don’t believe that it’s permanently damaged. I just need to sit a minute and regain my composure.”
“Of course,” Annora said. “We’ll stay up here as long as you like.”
A moment of silence followed, and Isolde focused on breathing evenly, trying to slow her heartbeat, which was still racing. After a few minutes, Annora spoke again.
“I’m sorry, Isolde,” she said. Isolde looked at her in surprise.
“Whatever for? Not Lord Crowley’s behavior! How could you have stopped him? And indeed, you did stop him – you came to my rescue.”
She put her hand on Annora’s, and Annora laid her other hand on top of it, grasping Isolde’s hand between her palms.
“Not that. Of course we would step in to help you, there was no question of it! I meant …” She hesitated, looking away.
“I was in the garden, with Lord Henry,” she finally said, looking incredibly guilty.
“I promised you I would stay away from him, and yet I seem to keep ending up near him. We had each stepped out for some air, and ran into one another … it just sort of happened, and I did not have the heart to tell him to leave me alone …”
“Annora,” Isolde said, feeling almost like she should shake her cousin, “what nonsense! Stop apologizing at once. I’ve already told you, I think you should follow your heart.
It’s rare to have found what you and Lord Henry have, and you must stop denying yourself on my account.
And any rate,” she continued, smiling wryly, “at least one of us will have found luck in love.”
“Oh, Isolde!” Annora said, throwing her arms around Isolde and hugging her tightly. Isolde hugged her back just as tightly.
When Annora pulled away, she gave Isolde a piercing look.
“But tell me, darling, do you really not think that you will find love with Lord Hartington? I know you insist he does not care for you, but I am sure he does. Do you really not care for him enough to try to keep him?”
Isolde sighed.
“I must confide in you, Annora, I have been so conflicted. I … I do have feelings for Lord Hartington; I must admit it.” Annora squealed and then clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Sorry, I’ll be quiet,” Annora said. “Keep going.”
“I just don’t know if he feels the same way.
Yes, I know,” she said in response to Annora opening her mouth.
“I know you will insist he does, and Thomas said the same. But I cannot count on other people’s impressions, and Lord Hartington himself has said nothing to me.
He has never spoken to me of our relationship outside of carrying on the illusion of it while we proceed with this ridiculous plan that he made.
And meanwhile …” She sighed. “Lord Crowley is threatening to marry Cornelia, and no matter what, I must stop that from happening. If marrying him myself is the only way …”
“Isolde, no!” Annora scolded. “You cannot marry that man, and neither can Cornelia. And perhaps you are not sure of Lord Hartington’s intentions, but surely speaking to him about the matter is preferable to marrying Lord Crowley.”
Isolde felt tears welling in her eyes and tried to blink them away, but one escaped and rolled down her cheek.
“It just feels like I have tried to speak to him so many times,” she whispered.
“Something always gets in the way, whether it be Lord Crowley or Lady Bradshaw or our own fumbling communication. I want to speak with him, I need to know how he feels, but I am growing so tired of trying and failing. I thought coming to Hartington would be a chance to perhaps turn my luck around, to escape my father and maybe help Thomas and Cornelia as well. But instead, my feelings are all muddled, and I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. ”
Annora hugged her again, much softer this time. She clung to Isolde for a long moment, and then she let go, giving her a warm smile.
“Poor Isolde. Even your own feelings won’t give you peace. But don’t worry, darling. I shall enlist Henry, and together we’ll help you speak to Thaddeus. You won’t have to carry all this on your own.”
“Thank you,” Isolde said. “You always make me feel less alone.”
“You are not alone,” Annora insisted. “And if it’s the marquess you want, then it’s the marquess you shall have, if I have anything to do with it!”
Annora looked so fiercely determined that Isolde had to laugh.
“Let’s just start with finally being able to speak honestly with him,” she said, not wanting to hope for more than that at the moment. But she realized with relief that, with Annora vowing to help, she already felt lighter.