Chapter 20
Twenty
Rain still falls.” Victor clenched his fists, determined not to hit the man standing in front of him. However, as Sir Lightwood continued to call Isabel’s character into question, the temptation to hit the man grew.
“Hardly enough to notice.” Sir Lightwood stepped closer. “I always knew you were a man of the world. All the piety in the world, you are still your father’s son.”
Victor’s jaw clenched. Explaining the truth of the rumor to this man was not worth his time. A truth he owed to Isabel and no one else. “Sir, you overstep.”
“Ha!” Sir Lightwood’s barking laugh was a hollow victory.
Victor reached for Isabel’s hand. She’d had the presence of mind to put back on her cold, damp glove.
Sir Lightwood stepped back, blocking their exit. “You think I am allowing the two of you to leave unchaperoned?”
“My groom is in the stables.” Isabel stood at Victor’s side.
“Your brother should sack him without references. He distracts my own servants from their work while you—”
Victor stepped forward, nose to nose with Sir Lightwood. “I would think through your next words very carefully. Miss Godderidge’s honor will not be besmirched.”
Sir Lightwood’s malicious laugh rang through the pavilion. “I am not the one who ruined the late Lord Godderidge’s only daughter. I am sure his four sons will have more than a little to say. Does the wealthy Mr. Dalrymple have enough gold to purchase a special license?”
No wonder Isabel had no love for this man and feared for Miss Jane. He turned to Isabel. She looked somewhat paler than a few minutes ago. “Your bonnet? There is still a fine mist falling.”
Isabel stepped away to retrieve her bonnet from where it had fallen.
Victor glared at the man. “You will step aside.”
“You will pay to keep this out of the papers, like your father’s folly.”
Victor turned to Isabel without giving the man even a nod. She finished tying the bow under her chin. Victor offered his arm and walked her around the odious Sir Lightwood, into the misting rain.
The groom in the green Leadon Hill livery waited with Isabel’s horse at the stable while the Kellmore grooms held Victor’s steed and the mare ridden by the Leadon Hill groom. As they mounted, Sir Lightwood called for his own horse.
Isabel turned to the Kellmore groom she’d spoken with earlier and spoke a single word. “Slowly.”
Her eyes met Victor’s and pleaded for understanding before she turned her horse to the road and urged her into a run.
Victor and the groom followed on her heels.
Victor easily caught up with her as they raced to her home.
He pushed ahead of her and reached the door before she did, leaping from his horse while an attentive footman grabbed his reins.
Victor reached Isabel as she stopped her winded horse.
He helped her down. She grabbed his hand and ran up the steps and into the open door.
“Mamma!”
“The Rose Parlor,” answered the butler.
“We are not at home to Sir Lightwood, unless Mamma says otherwise.” Isabel pulled Victor, muddy boots and all, into the parlor, where she dropped his hand and rushed into her mother’s arms.
Disjointed words poured out of Isabel’s mouth. At the end, Lady Katherine looked to Victor for an explanation.
“My Lady, I did not, nor did I ever intend to dishonor your daughter.” In that moment, he wished to gather the crying Isabel into his arms and offer her any consolation he could, including a kiss to wipe away her memories.
The kiss of which he was accused. Though it would have been everything chaste and pure Isabel deserved in her first kiss.
He still could not do so without some understanding between them.
“I was asking her if she would allow me to speak to either you or your son about—”
Pounding on the front door interrupted Victor’s plea to court Isabel for a second time. Would he never be allowed to ask to court Isabel?
Lady Katherine’s face smoothed to a stony calm as she stood. “If I deny Sir Lightwood entrance, it will be worse. Isabel, go change. Mr. Dalrymple, you may stay to face him or leave.”
Isabel glanced at him, trying to convey something he could not quite read as she left the room.
“I will face my accuser.”
Lady Katherine’s lips quirked up before she smoothed them back. Nodding at the footman, she said. “Allow Sir Lightwood in but stay nearby.”
She directed Victor to a chair near the fireplace.
“I’m still wet.”
“I know. You should warm yourself.” Lady Lightwood retook her seat in the center of a sofa.
Sir Lightwood burst into the room. He looked around like a wild man, his coat dripping onto the carpet. Spotting Victor, he advanced.
“Felton.” One word from Lady Katherine stopped him in his tracks. “My dear friend would be disappointed to see her husband coming to blows in my parlor. Do pretend to be civil in my home and sit down.”
Sir Lightwood sat in the chair she pointed to with her fan, placing the man in the seat furthest from Victor and still in the same conversational grouping.
“I caught that man—” Sir Lightwood stopped when Lady Katherine pointed at him with her fan with all the skill of a swordsman.
“Why, thank you. I am in good health. So glad you asked. I see you are not going to abide by society’s rules of politeness, but I insist as the lady in the room and your hostess that I speak first.”
Sir Lightwood had the decency to close his mouth.
“I understand that you came upon Mr. Dalrymple and my daughter as they had taken shelter in your pavilion. They had been on an errand at Kellmore with my full knowledge as well as the Earl of Whitstone’s.
Unfortunately, all of us misjudged the weather, and they were caught in the rain.
Mr. Dalrymple took the rare opportunity of being alone with Isabel to ask for a formal courtship, which has my full blessing. ”
“He was holding her close, and he kissed her.”
Victor opened his mouth but closed it at the smallest shake of Lady Katherine’s head. “Did you not kiss my dear friend Hannah in that same pavilion at the start of your courtship?”
“How. Do. You. Know?” Sir Lightwood stood, his face reddening.
“Really Felton. Sit and stop acting like a barbarian. Of course, Hannah confided in me. She may have been your wife, but we were friends.” Lady Katherine fanned herself, though the room was cool.
“Now, did you come here to greet me? Or perhaps offer your help with the harvest fair? Or only to cast aspersions on my daughter’s character? ”
“I was only looking out for her.”
Victor clenched his jaw so tightly he feared it would break.
“Thank you for your unwarranted concern. I am sorry to have added this to your day. I’m sure that whatever brought you from London at harvest time is of utmost importance.” Lady Katherine stood, forcing Victor and Sir Lightwood to stand as well. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at services.”
She did not offer her hand. Nor did Sir Lightwood move to take it. He cast a malicious glare at Mr. Dalrymple before leaving the room.
Lady Katherine turned to Victor. “I do give my blessing. However, I suggest you send an express to Lord Godderidge. My footman will get directions for you. I expect you and your mother for dinner tonight. I’ll make sure you have a moment or two alone with Isabel to tell her of my approval.”
Victor left Leadon Hill lightened and weary. Sir Lightwood would not let things go so easily. Lady Katherine might have thought she manipulated him into silence, but Victor was sure she only prolonged whatever plans Sir Lightwood was threatening.
Mamma breezed into the room. “I sent Mr. Dalrymple home to change. The poor man looked half drowned.”
“Is Sir Lightwood gone already?” asked Isabel from where she sat as her maid reworked her hair.
“For now. He left far too easily. Once he learns David is not in residence he will be back.” Mamma sighed and sat in the chair near the window.
“How do you know?”
“As usual, Sir Lightwood is desperate for money.”
Isabel tried to read her mother’s face, but it was difficult when turning her head would mean pulled hair. “Why? How? David would not allow blackmail.”
“No, your brother would not. But I doubt our money is what Sir Lightwood seeks, not when Mr. Dalrymple is one of the richest men in the country.”
Though aware of that fact, Isabel was surprised that it had faded into the back of her mind over the past month.
She’d stopped seeing Victor as the wealthy Mr. Dalrymple and had begun seeing him simply as Victor, the man who carried her from his barn, ruined his boots for a dog’s ball, looked at her paintings with genuine appreciation, made her laugh even when soaking wet.
The man who made her feel comfortable and warm.
“I have observed Mr. Dalrymple for some time. He is very careful to keep himself circumspect. Which given the terrible rumors surrounding his father’s death, is natural. I have no doubt that he treated you with respect today, but I would like the particulars from you.”
Again with Victor’s father. What had been the gossip?
Isabel made a mental note to ask Mamma later.
If she was going to marry into this family, she needed to know what shadows followed them.
Other gossip was at the moment far more worrying.
Isabel waited for her maid to finish and leave the room before moving to the edge of the bed to be closer to her mother. “Where should I start?”
“First I must know. Do you enjoy his company enough to allow him to court you? As this will most likely end in your marriage.”
“If you had asked me a month ago, I would have run from such an idea. But he is the kindest of men. He all but ruined his boot today digging a hole for a chipped wooden ball. I admire him for that and all his other kindnesses. After my rudeness of the last two years—” Isabel paused as she searched for the words to express her remorse.
Heat of shame burned in her cheeks. “I cannot help but think he would be better for Jane.”