Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Another lesson?” Isobel scoffed, her hand tightening on the door handle. “Your Grace, you have made it abundantly clear how hopeless I am at this charade – as you prefer to call it. I would not want to waste any more of your precious time.”
She heard him move behind her, his footsteps deliberate against the floorboards as he drew closer, his voice breaching the air between them moments later.
“That is not what I meant.”
“Is it not?” She whirled around to face him, her bright skirts swaying with the sudden movement.
“You have done nothing but criticize every word from my mouth, every step I take. You have made a game out of pointing out my flaws. I am clumsy, I am graceless, I am nothing like the perfect angel that is my sister—”
“That was never my intention. I only intended to urge you to be mindful of the mistakes you were making without thinking,” Richard interrupted, his voice rising slightly.
He cleared his throat, seeming to catch himself as he added with a deep exhale.
“You were... You were not paying attention to the small details that matter in situations like these. Sometimes, it could be those little, seemingly insignificant points that could ruin your work. My goal is to teach you how to avoid such problems, Miss Wightman. That is all.”
Isobel studied him, noting the way his jaw tensed, how his hands had curled into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax moments later. He looked almost... defensive. As though her accusations had struck something within him that he had not expected.
Although his current reaction to her accusations was not enough to dissuade her from the fact that he had treated her badly on several occasions.
“And so, you believe it is best to insult me repeatedly?” she asked, keeping her voice cool despite the heat rising in her chest.
“I—” He stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line quickly as though he was holding back from making things much worse.
A muscle worked in his jaw, the twitching flesh mesmerizing her for longer than she would ever be willing to admit.
Finally, he said, “I was trying to ensure you would not make errors that could endanger both you and your sister. But I... I handled it poorly.”
The admission hung between them, unexpected and strangely vulnerable. Isobel's grip on the door handle loosened slightly, though she refused to let her guard down completely. This man had a talent for saying things that wounded her, whether he intended to or not.
“Why should I believe you genuinely want to help me now?” she asked quietly.
Richard began to take a step closer, then seemed to think better of it and stopped. His blue eyes held hers with an intensity that made her pulse jump, like a startled hare before it ran for the hills.
“Because I want to make sure your efforts are not going to waste,” he said, his voice softer now.
“You are putting yourself at risk for your sister – who you barely know, in a house that is quite foreign, for a family that has shown you nothing but coldness. That... that deserves better than my harsh words.”
Isobel felt something shift within her chest, the tight knot of resentment that she had been carrying about all of last night and this morning as well, loosening gradually.
She wanted to hold onto her anger, to use it as a shield against the confusing feelings this man stirred within her.
But the sincerity in his expression, the careful way he spoke now – as though he was truly afraid of hurting her again – made it difficult to cling to her fury.
“Very well,” she relented, stepping away from the door. “What did you have in mind?”
Relief flickered across his features, so brief she might have imagined it. He gestured to the seating area near the window, and Isobel slowly moved toward it, keenly aware of how he followed, keeping a respectable distance between them now.
Once they were seated – she on a settee, him in a chair positioned at an angle to her – Richard leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You must learn how to retrieve information from others without raising suspicion,” he began. “The way you questioned your aunt this morning was... direct. A tad too direct. If she is indeed the culprit, you may have alerted her to your suspicions.”
Isobel bristled slightly, trying not to appear caught.. “I was merely expressing concern for her well-being. What is suspicious is why she was around the attic at that hour. I’d barely even gone far with my questioning!”
“Yes, you are right. I, too, find it odd that she would casually be wandering around the house at that hour – even more so that it is where Isobel was kept. Still, the truth remains that you pushed too hard when she deflected. A more subtle approach would have been to let the matter drop, then return to it later from a different angle.” He paused, studying her.
“I know how to make people bend to my will – owning a duke's title provides certain advantages in that regard, which has come in handy numerous times. But for you, it will be different. You will need to use your words, your charm, to make people trust you enough to reveal themselves.”
“My charm,” Isobel repeated dryly. “You have not exactly sung praises of my charming nature thus far, yet you sound convinced such a thing exists. I have tried to be charming, as you taught me previously. But all anyone wanted to tell me was useless information.”
“That is because you have not been trying to be charming,” Richard countered, a hint of amusement touching his lips.
“You have been sympathetic and imploring, which is entirely different – and occasionally useful. However, that is not what you need right now. You need to make people feel at ease, and then you will draw information out of them, without them even fathoming what it is you are doing.”
Isobel frowned. “And how exactly does one do that?”
Richard pointed at his face, raising his finger to his eyes, before bringing it down to his lips, using the pointer finger and thumb to stretch his lips into a stiff smile.
“It might seem unlikely, but your expressions can grant you grace among others very easily. Most people are more trusting when they are smiled at or teased in a way that makes them feel special and makes them receive the attention you are offering. You can say whatever you want, and you will never be caught because your smile has confused them into believing it was a joke. As I said before, everyone likes to be showered with attention. A single tilt of your head will make you appear interested in whatever is being said. You need to be able to capture attention and distract others from whatever they might have been focused on…” Richard's gaze held hers, and there was something in his expression that caused her breath to hitch in her throat. “By becoming... irresistible.”
The word hung in the air between them, its meaning as heavy as the implication. Isobel felt heat creep into her cheeks, but she refused to look away.
“Show me, then,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.
Richard's eyes darkened, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake.
But as he rose from his chair and moved to sit beside her on the settee, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, anticipation began to fill her nerves.
Their eyes met, and her heart began to flutter in her chest, like a bird in a cage.
“First,” he said, his voice lower now, “It is imperative that you learn to control your reactions. Right now, your face shows and tells all that you feel. It is not a bad thing – more often than not, it is a useful skill. But that is only when you deliberately wish to reveal what you want to be seen by others.”
Isobel tried to compose her features, but it was difficult to focus with him sitting so close. That scent – his scent was filling her senses, stopping her from getting the results she wanted as she breathed in deeply, drawing in the warm, spicy smell deep within her.
“When you wish to portray innocence and naivety, you must appeal to them softly. Smile innocently, widen your eyes slightly, and be sure to nod in an exaggerated manner at whatever they say. This makes you seem unknowledgeable, and harmless, and they will believe that you are incapable of deception.”
Isobel attempted to mirror the expression, feeling ridiculous immediately after she began.
“No, not like that. Like – a-are you all right? You look as though you are in pain.” A small smile tugged at his lips, this one much different from the one he had flashed at her when he made the suggestion. “Soften your mouth a tad. Yes, like that. Better.”
They continued like this for a while, Richard showing her different expressions, varying ways to carry herself, to make gestures, to utilize her voice.
Despite herself – and the initial tension hanging over their heads, Isobel found she was beginning to enjoy the lesson.
There was something about it that lent an air of closeness, from the way he studied her so intently in order to correct her expressions to the way his corrections required him to touch her sometimes – adjusting the angle of her chin, the position of her shoulders.
“You are doing better,” he murmured after a while, and the approval in his voice sent a warm flush through her.
“Thank you. It does help quite a bit that you are a proficient instructor.” She found herself smiling at him, her heart quaking when he gave her an expression that seemed as open as her smile.
Then, abruptly, his expression shifted into something dimmer, more unsure. Slightly, he pulled back, running a hand through his hair, looking a little unsure of what to do.
“Miss Wightman, I... I must apologize,” Richard said suddenly, his eyes straying away from hers. “For kissing you last night. It was a despicable action – and very inappropriate of me. I took liberties I had no right to take, and I–”