Chapter 23 #2
“I know. But knowing something and feeling it are different things.” William stared toward the darkened window. “I do not even know whether she trusts me anymore. Not truly. She believed me when I told her I knew nothing about her father, but that is not the same thing.”
Gabriel remained silent.
“Tomorrow I may lead her into Bryn Hir and prove exactly how right she was to doubt my family.” William swallowed. “And somehow I am still selfish enough to be afraid that whatever we find there will destroy any chance I might have had with her.”
The confession left him feeling vaguely ashamed.
He almost wished Gabriel would make a joke. Anything to make it feel less ugly.
Instead, his friend asked quietly, “Is that what you want? A chance with her?”
William looked at him.
“Yes.”
The answer required no thought.
He did not want another few weeks of a false courtship or stolen conversations justified by an investigation. He wanted more peach-colored skies and arguments and afternoons in the garden. He wanted to walk into a room and know he would find her there.
He wanted Rosalind.
And tomorrow he might discover that his own brother had made wanting her the most selfish thing he had ever done.
Gabriel’s expression grew grave. “Then you wait.”
William frowned.
“We do not know what we are going to find tomorrow. If Lord Eastmere is alive and well enough to bring home, you may spend the entire journey back tormenting yourself over whether his daughter loves you.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then Rosalind is going to need her friend far more than she needs a declaration of love.”
William looked away.
The words hurt because they were precisely what he needed to hear. Whatever waited at Bryn Hir, Rosalind came first, even if that meant William never had the chance to tell her what she had become to him.
After a moment, he nodded. “One problem at a time.”
“One problem at a time.”
William sank back against his pillow. “You are surprisingly sensible tonight.”
“I have been reading.”
A reluctant laugh escaped him. “How are matters progressing with Isabella?”
Gabriel brightened so quickly that William almost regretted asking. “Remarkably well.”
“Does Isabella know that?”
“She has spoken to me voluntarily several times.”
“You have been riding together for two days.”
“That is irrelevant.”
William laughed. “What did you talk about?”
“Christine de Pizan, among other things.”
That caught William’s attention. “You managed to work your reading into conversation?”
“I did not have to. Isabella mentioned her.”
“And I suppose you casually revealed that you had recently read her work.”
“There was nothing casual about it. I had been waiting for precisely such an opportunity.”
“At least you admit it.”
Gabriel grinned, though his expression softened a moment later. “She told me she wants to establish a school.”
“A school?”
“For girls. Somewhere they might receive a proper education rather than being taught just enough to make them accomplished wives.”
“That sounds very much like Isabella.”
“Yes.”
The quiet admiration in Gabriel’s voice made William smile.
“She wants them to study history, philosophy, mathematics, literature. Whatever they have the ability and desire to learn. She said women are called ignorant by the same people who refuse to educate them and then somehow expected to accept the insult as proof of their own inferiority.”
William considered that. “I imagine you agreed.”
“Of course I agreed. I am attempting to make her like me, not have me thrown from a moving horse.”
“An important distinction.”
Gabriel ignored him. “She still has no intention of marrying.”
William glanced at him. “You knew that already.”
“I did.”
“And yet you sound disappointed all over again.”
Gabriel gave him a look. “I had hoped prolonged exposure to my considerable charms might have altered her position.”
“Two days on horseback?”
“I work quickly.”
William laughed, but Gabriel’s expression soon grew more thoughtful.
“The thing is, I understand it better now. She has plans for her life. Important ones. She wants the school. She wants independence. She wants to decide for herself what her future looks like.”
“And you admire her for it.”
“Of course I do.”
William waited.
Gabriel sighed. “I would simply rather like it if she eventually decided there was room for me in that future.”
There it was.
William smiled. “Even without marriage?”
Gabriel was quiet for a moment. “I would prefer marriage.”
“Naturally.”
“I am still me.”
“Tragically.”
Gabriel ignored him. “But I do not want her to marry me because I have somehow convinced her to give up the life she wants. I want her to discover that having me in it would not require giving up anything at all.”
Something about that struck William more deeply than he expected.
“I would help her build the damned school,” Gabriel added.
“I know.”
“I would find her teachers. Books. A building. Whatever she needed.”
“I know that too.”
Gabriel looked toward him. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
For all his ridiculousness, Gabriel had never wanted Isabella to be less than she was. He wanted a place beside her, whatever shape she ultimately allowed that place to take.
William understood the feeling rather well.
His horse carried him over the crest of the hill, pulling him from the memory.
Ahead, Rosalind drew her horse to a sudden stop.
William followed her gaze.
For two days, Bryn Hir had existed only as a name in a letter and a destination somewhere beyond the next mile. Now, as the road descended into the valley, the dark woods parted and the distant estate rose into view.
Bryn Hir.