28. Isla
Isla
They dropped anchor in the deep waters on the far side of the Fachan’s Bay cliffs a fortnight later, and a day and a half after that, Isla sat in Archduchess Pierpont’s library clutching a handkerchief in her fisted hand.
She barely registered the slight pressure from Celie’s fingers softly squeezing her shoulder as she stood behind Isla to offer silent support.
She’d only been back for a mere thirty-six hours and already, Isla’s world was falling apart around her.
In their absence, the King had done precisely as he’d said he’d do and had declared that she would marry Montfort within days of her return to the city. Jaydon had also taken the opportunity to sail to the nearby port of Thornfield to visit his younger cousin, the Duke of Marlboro.
Unfortunately, he’d left word that Fachan’s Bay’s mayor was to immediately inform him when the Jest returned to port.
A rider had gone out the same hour Isla had set foot on dry land.
The King had also confined Isla to the port city until he returned and presided over the wedding himself. No more escape attempts for her.
This afternoon, Isla had come to the Archduchess with one final, desperate request. She’d asked the Grande Dame to act as an intermediary between herself and Lord Jontoreaux.
The older woman had reluctantly agreed, and here Isla sat, waiting on pins and needles to hear whether Jonto would grant her scandalously inappropriate request.
Jonto had arrived a few minutes earlier and was standing next to the fireplace, thanking Ethan, Lady Pierpont’s steward, for bringing him a snifter of brandy.
He ran a finger between the top button of his starched collar and neck, moving his head this way and that as though the material pinched the skin.
He swallowed hard, pulled in a breath, and shot a glance at Isla before pretending to pick a piece of lint from the sleeve of his finely tailored blue woolen frock coat.
Isla had never seen him quite this nervous before, and she anxiously wondered whether he had some idea of the meeting’s agenda.
“Please join us, Jonto.” Lady Pierpont indicated a leather armchair that faced Isla, who sat on the sofa.
The Grande Dame herself presided over the room in a wingback chair identical to the one she’d indicated with a gracious wave.
With one hand atop the other, she rested gnarled fingers on the ivory lion’s head adorning the handle of her ebony walking cane.
Jonto’s nod at the invitation was amiable enough, given that he appeared unaware he’d been sending subtle signals conveying his distress.
When he’d first arrived, he’d greeted the three women with a courteous bow before taking his place next to the fire to await Ethan and the promised brandy.
At Lady Pierpont’s behest, he strode to the indicated chair and sat.
Nico also accepted a drink but remained standing off to the side.
Once her guests had their beverages in hand, the Archduchess wasted no time on further pleasantries.
“First, I’d like to thank you, Jonto, for taking Isla to retrieve your hedge witch.
Your generous support gave me enough time to speak to my nephew on several occasions during your absence.
I’d hoped to persuade him to give Isla more time to correct the issues arising from the mismanagement of her lands. ”
Wilhelmina pursed her lips and gravely shook her head.
“I’m not sure what Montfort and his cronies have been whispering into Jaydon’s ear, but it soon became clear that there’s more to the King’s decision than simple misogyny.
Some very influential lords have sided with Montfort, and it appears they’ve somehow backed my nephew into a corner.
He refuses to change his mind, or perhaps he simply can’t, and because of that…
” she gently rubbed the parchment-thin skin over her hooded eyes, “…Isla has come to me with a request.”
Jonto looked at her with apprehension showing in his eyes.
Seeing his reaction and dreading what would come next, Isla felt heat rising into her cheeks.
Unable to face his discomfort, she averted her gaze and instead focused on the untouched platter of sweet pastries set out on the low tea table between them.
He knew. He knew what would be asked of him, and in that moment, Isla knew what his answer would be.
What it had to be. The short time they’d known one another wouldn’t be sufficient to convince him to give up a lifetime of pleasant bachelorhood.
Oblivious to Jonto’s unease or, more probably, choosing to ignore it, Lady Pierpoint relentlessly carried on.
“She informed me that she’s come to care about you.
More importantly, to me, anyway, is that she trusts you.
Normally, I’d never interfere in such matters, but these are hardly normal circumstances. ”
The nervousness Isla had sensed when he’d first entered the room was nothing compared to the panic creeping into Jonto’s frame.
His shoulders stiffened and crept upwards on a neck that was turning a distinctive shade of pink.
He’d guessed what was coming, and judging by the large swallow of brandy and the wildly pulsing vein in his neck, he didn’t like the prospect of hearing Isla’s proposition one little bit.
She wondered whether he’d flee the room before the Archduchess had time to deliver Isla’s plea.
Because that’s exactly what it was. An all-or-nothing gambit that would either save Windsong Hall or doom it.
Lady Pierpont continued her matter-of-fact delivery of the question, the answer to which would determine the course of Isla’s future.
“I’ve never been one to prevaricate, so I’ll come right out and say it.
If you were to marry Lady Brighton, she would avoid the prospect of marrying Montfort, and she would retain ownership of her land and estates.
You, of course, would most definitely retain yours. ”
Isla jumped when Jonto leapt to his feet in a panic, spilling his brandy on his waistcoat and nearly dropping the snifter onto the platter of pastries. “No!” He grabbed at the falling glass, juggling it until he held it firmly within his grasp.
Isla blinked at the reaction that was so totally out of character for the dashing, debonair pirate as to bordering on ridiculous. Was the idea of marrying her so odious to the man?
Swallowing hard, Jonto shook his head like a dog shedding water from its ears. “I’m sorry, Isla, but that’s not possible.” His gaze jerked between Isla, Lady Pierpont, and finally Nico. “I can’t, Nico. You know I can’t.”
Celie placed a second hand on Isla’s other shoulder, squeezing in a silent message that said, Hold yourself together, girl.
Her friend understood how very close she was to fleeing and, with that subtle gesture, hoped to prevent her from making a fool of herself in front of the Archduchess and Lord Jontoreaux.
Isla stiffened but, understanding Celie’s intent, raised her chin to disguise the utter devastation his reaction had wrought. She’d dared hope he would go along with the idea, and his panicked rejection felt like a dagger to her heart.
Jonto had been her last hope, and instead of flying out of the room crying—it had been a near thing—she simply set her wine glass on the low table and rose.
“There’s no need to sound so panicked, Lord Jontoreaux.
No one is forcing you to marry someone against your will, after all.
” With that very pointed message, she turned to Lady Pierpont.
“I’m deeply grateful for your assistance, Your Grace.
” With that, she gathered her dignity and strode from the room.
Celie shot Jonto a venomous glare before following her friend.
Jonto’s voice was hoarse when he called out. “Isla, I’m sorry. It’s just not?—”
Nico interrupted him, “Let her go, Jonto. Nothing you can say will help.”
Ethan hurried to open the front door as Isla swept from the drawing room. She couldn’t speak around the lump forming in her throat, so she settled for nodding her thanks.
Her driver waited out front with her carriage. Not expecting to see her quite so soon, he jumped from the seat and hurried to pull open the door.
Without pausing, Isla mounted the step and gracefully slipped into the compartment.
Celie followed and nodded at the driver as he gently shut the door behind them.
Isla absently gazed out the window, and from the looks of the clouds gathering at sea, they were in for a storm later that evening.
No matter. The darkness mirrored her despondence as the driver cracked his whip.
The carriage lurched forward, pushing her further back into her seat.
Jonto’s panicked refusal to even consider her proposal shocked Isla’s mind into shutting down.
She sat in numb disbelief, unable to form coherent thoughts or make any plans.
She thought they’d grown close during the three weeks on the sea, and for him to refuse her only hope of salvation with such vehement denial was devastating.
Celie, usually so upbeat and chatty, sat in stony silence.
Her body language said more than words ever could.
With fingers clasped so hard in her lap that the knuckles had turned a pasty white, she sat ramrod straight, staring out of the window with such an expression of livid fury that Isla felt obliged to say something if only to calm her friend’s ire.
“I’m sorry, Celie.”
That jerked her friend out of her reverie. “For what?”
For what, indeed? For not being the woman her mother was.
For losing Windsong Hall. For any number of things that she’d done so poorly over the years.
“For being such a disappointment. How many times did you hold me in your lap when I was a child and tell me I came from prime stock, from a family of blue bloods stretching back to the fifteenth century? And now look at me. I’ve lost my home and have let down everyone who relies on me for their livelihoods. ”
Celie rubbed tired eyes. “If things were as they were two months ago, I’d tell you to stop feeling sorry for yourself, but I can’t without naming myself a hypocrite.
I’ve let you down. I’m the one who should apologize and not you.
I’ve never told you this, but when your mother was on her deathbed, she asked me to watch over you.
” She lowered her hand and forced a sad smile.
“She loved you so much. As do I. You told me on the ship that she’d know how to fix things, and you were right.
She would. And I’m the one who’s sorry that I can’t do the same.
I don’t know what to do or how to help you, and it’s eating me up inside. ”
They rode in silence after that, each thinking their own private thoughts. As the carriage pulled into the driveway of her familial home, with a heart heavy with regret, Isla knew she had to put her final plans into place.