Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Captain Godderidge closed the door to his brother’s study. Victor imagined the door to a ship’s brig would sound as formidable. The captain pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
Victor had only met the second born Godderidge son once before. Though Isabel talked of him much, he knew little of what to expect from the man who paced the room. A room Victor once found comfortable in the presence of the late Lord Godderidge now chafed at him as a witness box would.
With hands clasped behind his back, Captain Godderidge paced the length of the room between Victor and the door as a sentry would.
“I rode through the night to reach my sister and was prepared to challenge you in any way necessary to see to Izz’s welfare.
My mother informs me, however, that you are not the villain in this story, and Izz claims that you have formed an attachment.
You will pardon my skepticism, as I hardly know you, but I must say, I have reason to doubt my sister’s attachment. ”
Doubts? Victor had a few of his own. Mostly awe that Isabel would agree to his courtship after such a rocky start.
“I cannot speak to your sister’s feelings for me, but I assure you I am in earnest when I asked to court her.
Admittedly, we are an unlikely pair, and I am astonished that your sister agreed to my suit. ”
Captain Godderidge stopped pacing. He stared at Victor as if trying to read his soul. “You are not what I pictured for her. I assumed she would find a man at least as tall as me.”
“I believe my height—or lack thereof—put her off. She is the only woman of her age I know who wears out-of-fashion heeled shoes. I am sure she did only to point out my short stature.”
The captain’s mouth quirked up, and his shoulders relaxed. “Izz would indeed do that. However, it is not only you. She has preferred those ridiculous old-fashioned shoes since before she was fifteen or so because they put her on equal footing, so to speak, with David and me.”
“She mentioned something of the sort.”
A servant interrupted to bring in a tray of food.
The captain offered Victor tea before he sat. Victor declined, while his host added a sandwich to his plate. “Please pardon me. When you arrived, I had just begun eating, as I said, I rode through the night, and I am famished.”
“Understandable. If I had heard the type of rumor I expect you did, I would have ridden through the night to my sister’s side as well. It was those rumors that led me to call so early this morning.”
“How did you hear of them?”
“An express arrived for my friend Lord Barlow. His father, the Marquess of Blackridge, laid the blame for my supposed behavior at Barlow’s feet and demanded an accounting. Barlow left immediately for Town to not only satisfy his father, but to squelch what rumors he could.”
The captain’s fork clattered on his plate. “Lord Braxton Barlow?”
“The same. Also an unlikely friend whose reputation is deserved, but exaggerated.”
“He was here?”
“For the past month.”
The tension that had left the captain’s body returned. “David and I warned him away from Isabel.”
“That he told me, and Barlow kept a respectful distance. He is not as much of a rake as society claims.”
“Since you say he rushed to London to do what he can in this situation, I will allow some difference of opinion on him. But Barlow’s friendship does not play in your favor.”
“I understand there are many who question my judgment in our friendship.” There was nothing for it. Victor would not abandon the only friend who stood at his side during his time of need. Though he was not blind to his friend’s foibles.
The captain folded his arms and glared. Victor only just kept from cowering.
“What I must know is what you intend to do now.”
“I came this morning to consult with Isabel and your mother. I have no wish to force your sister’s hand.
Though in truth I have already commissioned a brooch to give her on the occasion of our engagement, if she will have me.
I have yet to speak to your brother about such matters and gain his approval.
I hoped he would return before the fair, but I am prepared to travel to Southampton if necessary. ”
“So you intended to propose before this… debacle?”
“One hardly asks a woman to court him if he is not leaning in the direction of marriage. Though my heart is ready, I do not believe your sister to be sure of her heart or my devotion.”
“I have heard you are a careful man in your business affairs. You apply the same logic to love?”
This time, Victor shifted in his seat. How to explain without sounding as if he were a hunter laying a trap?
“My feelings are not logical, so no. However, like any other transaction, I know it is best if both sides are satisfied and sure they are getting what will benefit them. I know that beyond my money, I have little to recommend myself. I am not tall, nor is my physique one that draws women to swoon. I am not considered dashing or fashionable, despite Barlow’s attempts.
My family tree is a shield short of a coat of arms. I am, however, dedicated and unfailing in keeping my word.
There are women who have shown interest in my bank account more than in me.
I want a wife I can talk to and consult with.
That friendship is what I have found in your sister.
Now I only wait for her to be sure she has found that in me. ”
“So your caution arises out of care for her needs?”
“Yes, I do not wish her to regret her choice. Which is why, even now, I am reluctant to rush into marriage simply because of an exaggerated event.”
“Would you rush if David and I felt it was best?”
“No. Only if Isabel thought it was best.”
A smile filled the captain’s face. “I cannot speak for David, but that answer is the best one you could have given. I believe I shall be glad to call you brother, Mr. Dalrymple.”
“Victor, if we are to be brothers, or Dalrymple, of course.”
“Edward. As my elder brother has the right to be called Godderidge.”
“If you don’t mind, I would like to see Isabel now. Likely she is quite concerned about the length of our conversation.”
“Since she was with Mamma, she likely could not listen at the keyhole. Go and find her. Tell her you have my blessing, though we both know it counts for little.” Edward offered his hand.
Victor took it. Edward’s blessing counted far more than the man believed.
At Mamma’s suggestion, Isabel returned to the library.
Her mother’s abigail sat quietly in the corner sewing as Isabel drew.
The maid served two purposes. First, to keep Isabel from walking down the corridor and listening at the study door, and second, to act as a chaperone when Edward finished interrogating Victor, and he was finally free.
Isabel sketched a mouse. The happy creature lived in a well-furnished burrow with a bed covered with a handkerchief embroidered in pale pink flowers.
She had owned such a handkerchief as a child and had lost it while trying to follow David and Edward through the woods.
A discarded thimble made a fine cup for the strawberry wine.
Not that she had a clue how a mouse would know how to make such a thing, but as strawberries would be in easy reach, it seemed the most natural of fruits to have for a mouse.
The tick-tock of the clock on the mantel grew louder as she strained her ears to hear anything from the study.
Finally, the click of a doorknob and the sound of footsteps indicated Victor’s release from her brother’s interrogation.
Isabel set her sketchbook aside and stood.
Her maid stood as well, reminding Isabel that rushing to Victor was not exactly proper.
A footman would tell the men where to find her.
The seconds dragged on as she waited for her brother and Victor to come to her. Finally, two sets of footsteps came closer.
Edward entered the library first, crossing the room to Isabel. He took her hands and studied her face for a long moment before speaking. “Your Mr. Dalrymple requires an audience. I have granted him permission for a private one. The door will remain open, however, and I will not be far.”
Her brother dropped her hands and signaled to the maid to leave. The maid glanced at Isabel for confirmation before hurrying from the room ahead of Edward, who, true to his word left the door open a foot.
Victor approached, stopping three feet away. “I had planned this morning very differently. Ask you for a ride, visit the miller to check on the flour we have ordered. Then everything changed.”
“How is that?”
“Barlow received a letter from his father citing the same rumors your brother had heard. I intended to make you and your mother aware of the issue and seek your advice.”
“Our advice?”
He stepped closer, but still not in a close enough distance to even take her hand.
“Yes. This matter affects you even more than me. I know some men would come and offer an immediate marriage by special license to save you. That is what is expected of society. But I have no desire to force you into accepting my suit because Sir Lightwood is spreading malicious gossip. I want to know how you would like to proceed.”
Isabel took a step forward and reached for Victor’s hand. “May we sit and discuss this? It feels like so much to talk about while standing so formally.”
They sat on the settee where she had been perched for the last half hour. Victor looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Is something wrong?”
“As much as I enjoy sitting thus, I wonder if it is proper.” His hand slid away from hers.
Isabel missed his touch. “Considering we are discussing my feelings and our potential nuptials in the least romantic way I can think of, sitting together is the only thing I find comfortable about this situation.”
Victor smiled then. “This is rather awkward, is it not? I also never thought of discussing marriage with you as a solution to a problem.”
He had thought of marriage too? Her heart raced. Isabel fought to appear calm. “How did you plan to then?”
His face reddened ever so slightly. “After the harvest fair, or perhaps that evening, when all was running smoothly, I thought to have a moment with you where I would declare my love and beg you….”
Isabel’s curiosity that he would pick a day that meant so much to her demanded answers. “Why then?”
“I hoped it would be enough time for you to know me well enough, and also it is a day you associated with happiness. I wished this to be a happy memory for you.”
Isabel took his hand. “I like your plan very much. Though I do not know that you would need to beg. By the date of the Harvest Ball, I believe I would have my mind quite made up, as each day I find some little thing that endears me more to you. This very conversation, the fact you wish my opinion of our future. I never imagined that a man would consider my needs so much.”
“And what are your needs?”
“I am not sure that I know. I wish to quell the rumors as much for you as for me. You have a reputation for integrity and the story that you would harm me must hurt you as well. Mamma advises that too quick a marriage confirms all that was said. Especially since it is known that you have the funds to purchase such a favor as a special license.”
“I have the funds but not the connections.”
“Still, I do not wish to wed so quickly, I agree it gives the story too much credit. Yet now that we are discussing our wedding, waiting for the harvest fair for a proposal seems so very far away.”
“There are three Sundays between now and the fair. We could post bans this Sunday and be wed—”
“The morning of the fair?” Isabel leaned forward, the idea forming a perfect picture in her mind.
He reddened again. “I was thinking the day after, but the morning of would work as well.”
Were they engaged then? Isabel didn’t want to ask, but she was not sure.
Victor slid off the settee to kneel in front of her.
He took her other hand in his. “Isabel Dawn Godderidge. I know this is not how either of us planned for a proposal. I have been intrigued by you for some time, your wit, intelligence, and talent. I never thought that you would even speak with me. I know I am not what you hoped for in a husband, but I can only offer my devotion and promise to put you first in my life.”
Isabel studied him for a moment. Her first impressions coming back.
Short, soft, simpering. How wrong she’d been.
Well, not the short part. “Victor, you do me the greatest honor. But before I can accept, I must know that you forgive me for judging you harshly and ignoring the fine man you are because you were not taller than me? I was ever so shallow.”
He leaned closer. “I forgive you. Although without shoes, I believe I am taller than you.”
“Taller? How are we to know?”
“I am sure once you are Mrs. Dalrymple we can find a way to be certain.”
It was Isabel’s turn to blush. “I shall look forward to proving I am taller than Mr. Dalrymple.”
“You accept?”
The surprise on his face almost made her giggle. Instead, she leaned forward and whispered “yes” before brushing her lips across his.
He dropped one of her hands, bringing his hand to cup her face, his fingers brushed her cheek.
What followed was no half-way kiss, but a sweet slow melding of breath and touch and dreams. A controlled spark of passion ignited in Isabel’s heart with a promise to burn hot in due time.
They parted, and he stood bringing her up with him.
This time, his arm wrapped about her waist, pulling her close as the hand that had been on her cheek moved to her hair.
Isabel placed a hand on his heart, and her other hand found the curls at the nape of his neck as their lips met again.
She no longer cared who was taller. The word “ecstatic” redefined itself as nerves she never paid attention to came alive, confirming Victor as her heart’s choice.