Chapter 5 #2
“I first came into His Grace’s employ when he was just five years old.
” Mr. Pemberton was sure to look directly at Isolde as he spoke, not so much as blinking.
“I will not disparage the man’s father, for it is not my place to do so, but let it be said that he was not a particularly loving man.
His Grace, when I met him, was withdrawn—even scared of he who had borne him and was supposed to care for him—and I knew on that first day that there was nothing I would not do to keep him safe. ”
Isolde said nothing. She tried to hold Mr. Pemberton’s eyes but could not bring herself to do so. She tried to sit still and appear proud and confident, but she fidgeted terribly.
“And I like to think I have done that. His brother, too. I gave myself the same charge—”
“His Grace has a brother?” Isolde interrupted before she could stop herself.
“Had,” Mr. Pemberton said darkly. “He had a brother, and where I failed him, I have not once failed His Grace.”
Isolde scolded herself for the interruption, just as she felt sick at the implication. While Mr. Pemberton was severe and cold, she had no doubt that this man would do anything he must to protect the duke.
“I have seen him grow from a boy into a man,” Mr. Pemberton continued.
“I have seen him at his worst and at his best. I have seen sides of him that some might weep at, and others that would bring such joy that the sun’s shine might appear dim by comparison.
He is…” His voice cracked slightly. “He is like a son to me, in some ways. If the world were different, I might call him my closest friend. What I am, however, and what there can be no doubt about, is that I am his protector.”
“I—”
“I failed in this charge yesterday,” he spoke over her. “Thankfully, you were there to see that no harm came to him. For that, I owe you my thanks.” He looked right at her.
“That… I was happy to do it,” she stammered.
“However, my thanks, my gratitude, can only be stretched so far. So, when His Grace told me that you and he were engaged…” Isolde winced as Mr. Pemberton’s words struck her.
“You can imagine my shock. There is not a part of His Grace’s world that I do not know, and if he was engaged as he claims, I would be the first to be made aware. Why, I would consider it my right.”
She swallowed. “We all have secrets…”
“Do not play me for a fool, Miss Whitmore,” he said sternly.
“Treat me with dignity, as I have treated you. I am not willing to call you a liar. I am not yet willing to announce you as a heretic. What I want to know, the reason we are having this conversation, is what you said to His Grace to make him believe that you and he are one.”
Isolde licked her lips as her mind raced.
Once again, she sensed that if she were to reveal the truth, now would be the right time. Only, it felt as if that time had come and gone. She was in this now, and to admit her lies would likely only make things worse.
How can I make it sound as if… as if this was the duke’s idea?
“As you know, His Grace has suffered a loss to his memory.”
“I am aware,” Mr. Pemberton said. “And it is only because I do not wish to make things worse that I have not told him the truth. His mind is fragile. I have no desire to upset him, nor do I plan on calling him a fool. So, again, I ask you, what did you tell him?”
“N—nothing,” she stammered. “Truly, I am as surprised as you are. When he woke last evening, he was confused, unsure of who he was. He found me tending him and… and…” She started to sweat, her body trembling. “He did not know who he was. He assumed that I was… that he and I…”
“You expect me to believe that he simply assumed the two of you were engaged?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” she said, seizing upon the moment.
“I did not know what to say. He was so… so unsure. So confused and scared. He…” She licked her lips.
“He seemed to assume that we were engaged, for why else would he have been in my room? And not wanting to upset him or make him feel… feel as if he was alone, I simply went along with it.”
He looked at her flatly. “You went along with it? To translate, you saw a chance to attach yourself to a duke and could not possibly pass up…”
“No!” she cried, even though what he said was true.
“I was only trying to help. He was so weak and… and he did not seem to know who or where he was. I thought once he woke again, that he would forget what we’d spoken about.
” Tears started to well in her eyes. “Please, I did not mean for this to happen. You must believe me.”
“And if I choose not to?”
Isolde felt the tears well in her eyes. She felt her chin wobble. She felt like a mouse backed into a corner with a large cat bearing down on her. Trapped… out of options… the lies growing so quickly that she could barely keep up.
However, as she looked at Mr. Pemberton, and met his cold eyes, she saw through him, and came to realize something. And so it was that she found a way out… or so she hoped.
“Then…” She steadied herself. “Then I suggest you speak to His Grace. Tell him, if you must, that he is wrong. But when you do, be sure to tell him how you too have been lying to him, just as I have.”
Mr. Pemberton’s eyes widened, but he was quick to fix the error. “That is not…” He cleared his throat. “I have not lied.”
“You have,” she said. “The moment he told you who I was, you went along with it. You have made him look like a fool, and I wonder how he might react to such a thing.”
Guilt swarmed through Isolde like a hive of locusts. This was not who she was! She was a good person. Her charge in life was to help those who could not help themselves. But desperate times… it was incredible what one was willing to do.
Mr. Pemberton studied her for some time. His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed together. She met his stare, her best efforts at appearing brave.
“So… he is the one who made the proposal?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I only went along with it because I did not want to upset him.”
“And then what?” he continued. “His Grace is convinced the two of you are engaged. He seems rather pleased by the notion. Tell me, where does this end for you?”
“I…” Isolde considered. “I only wanted to help. His Grace’s memory will return, I am sure, at which point he will be free to decide what he wants to do. Until then, I think it best if… if I continue to aid him in his recovery. I want to help, Mr. Pemberton. Please, allow me to help.”
Mr. Pemberton looked at her flatly. She was certain that he was about to deny her.
No doubt he was weighing up in his mind the pros and cons of revealing who she was, versus going along with this lie.
And when he opened his mouth, she was certain from the way he looked at her that he was all but ready to throw her to the wolves.
At that moment, the door burst open, and the duke walked in.
“Sorry to disturb,” he said as he strolled through the door. His face brightened immediately when it fell on Isolde. “How are things? I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Your Grace!” Mr. Pemberton straightened up, and he dropped the ice-cold facade that he’d held onto since entering the room. “Your examination? I thought—”
“The thing about having no memory is that you tend to forget where things are,” the duke chuckled as he crossed the room. “I’m afraid I got somewhat lost. Truly, it is a miracle that I found the two of you.” He reached the table and sat on its end.
Isolde breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for the stay of execution. She dared a glance at Mr. Pemberton, who looked between her and the duke as if coming to a decision.
“It is a good thing that you are here,” Mr. Pemberton spoke carefully, at which point Isolde’s heart stopped dead in her chest. “I was just speaking to Miss Whitmore about your engagement…”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Mr. Pemberton fixed his eyes on her as if in warning, only to soften them as he looked up at the duke. “It has occurred to me that there is no engagement ring. A strange thing, for two people who are engaged to one another. As you both are.”
The duke frowned. “Yes… that is a little odd. Isolde? Did I not present one to you when I proposed?”
Isolde burned with shame. “You meant to do so, but you did not have one. It was very much a spur-of-the-moment thing, Your Grace.”
“Your Grace?” he chuckled. “I would think you might call me Cassian, Isolde.” He reached down and took her hand. “Surely, such formalities are beneath us.”
“Right, sorry.” She grimaced, still unable to look at him. “Cassian…” The word burned her lips as if it were acid.
“As for the ring, that is an easy fix. Mr. Pemberton. Surely, I can rely on you to have one made? I would make suggestions, but for obvious reasons, I have not a clue how such things are done.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mr. Pemberton stood and bowed. “I will have one made at once.” His eyes flicked to Isolde, but she did not look up. “Now, might I escort you to the physician? I really must insist that he sees you.”
“I was thinking, could you fetch him and bring him here?”
“Your Grace?”
“I wish to speak to my fiancée privately for a moment,” he said. Isolde’s eyes widened, and her cheeks burned. “In all the excitement of the morning, it has occurred to me that we have had hardly a moment together, and there are a few things I would like to discuss with her.
Oh no… oh no…
Isolde’s heart started to race again. She did not dare meet the duke’s eyes, but she sensed the meaning in his words. No doubt, he was starting to grow suspicious himself, and just as Mr. Pemberton had done, he had some questions of his own that needed answers.
“I will return at once.” Mr. Pemberton bowed deeply and hurried from the room.
Isolde remained seated and able to feel the duke’s eyes on her as he perched on the edge of the desk. Silence fell on the room; those eyes burned through her, and with no choice, she slowly and carefully raised her head to meet his gaze.
She did not know what he wanted to say to her. She could not imagine what she might say in return. Isolde had lied so much today and betrayed herself in so many ways that she wondered how much longer she could continue doing so.
The duke… Cassian, as she had to call him… He deserved the truth. If he asked it of her, if he poured his heart out so that she could not refuse him, she would give it. Her conscience demanded as much.