After a long while, he probed, “What else?”
“I—I don’t know.”
His eyebrows rose. “Nothing? You can think of nothing that you wish? ”
“I would not want to be thought of as selfish,” she whispered.
He captured her gaze in his, arresting her attention. He twirled them to a stop then, and she realized that they were at the far end of the room, where a chaise sat in near darkness.
“Selfish?”
She stared at the indentation on his chin and nodded.
He gave a little huff of laughter, disbelief in the exhalation. “Isabel, you are about the least selfish person I have ever known.”
She shook her head. “It’s not true.”
“Why would you think that? ”
She pressed her lips together, afraid of the answer.
But the desire to share it was too much.
She spoke to his chin. “I—My father gave me a chance to fix it all once. To save the house. The earldom. Everything.” She had never told anyone this. “All I had to do was go to London. And let him arrange a marriage for me.”
“How old were you?” The words were cold, and Isabel felt a sick feeling of dread—imagining that he was judging her actions. As her mother had done.
“Seventeen.”
“You refused.”
She nodded, unshed tears clawing at her throat. “I didn’t want—didn’t want the same marriage my mother had. I didn’t want to be half a woman. Half a person. He left, and never returned. My mother—she died soon after. She blamed me for his desertion.”
He was silent. Unmoving.
She should not have told him. “I am sorry if I have disappointed you.”
His sharp inhalation drew her attention.
One finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. She gasped at the emotion there.
“I am not disappointed, love.” The whisper was low and close, so close that she felt more than heard the words. “I am furious.” Her eyes widened as he cupped her face in his hands, turning them to ensure that they were entirely out of the view of the others in the room. She felt the trembling in his fingers. “I wish I had been here. I wish I could have—”
He stopped when she closed her eyes.
I wish you had been here, too.
He traced his fingers down the side of her neck to the place where her pulse was beating out of control.
She did not want to think of the past. Not now. Not when he was so close.
“I wish you would kiss me.”
The raw confession surprised them both.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ah, Isabel, if we were anywhere but here …”
She dipped her head at the words. “I know.”
“Do you? Do you know how much I want you?”
She could not look at him. “Yes.”
She felt his thumb run over the soft skin of her wrist, the maddening touch setting her pulse racing. “How do you know? ”
The whisper, dark and coaxing, gave her the courage to look up at him. His eyes were dark—too dark to make out their color in this light—but she could read his thoughts. “Because I want you, as well.”
He growled then, low in his throat, and Isabel felt the noise cut a path right through her, sending pleasure pooling at her core. She started to turn her face away once more, but he stayed the movement with one finger under her chin. “No, beauty. Look at me.”
How could she deny such an urgent demand?
“I am not perfect. I cannot promise you that I will not do things that will hurt you.” He paused, his scar a pale line against his darkened skin. “But I will do everything in my power to protect you and James and these girls.”
He stopped, and she held her breath, waiting for his next words.
“I think you should consider your brother’s proposal.”
Fourteen
Lesson Number Six
Once you have captured his attention, do not waver.
Lord landing requires tenacity of purpose, Dear Reader! It is not for the weak-willed or the faint-of-heart. Once you have chosen your Knight and he has recognized you as his Maiden Fair, you must resist any temptation toward quiescence! Now is not the time to grow comfortable!
You do well to remember that battles are won and lost in their final stages. This time requires constancy, determination, and endurance!
Pearls and Pelisses
June 1823
Isabel was seated in a great copper bathtub, flushed from the steam coming off the near-scalding water. She lifted a hand absently, considering the wrinkled tips of her fingers. “He said he would use the word magnificent to describe me.”
Lara looked gleeful from her place on Isabel’s bed. “And he wants to marry you!”
The words sent a flood of nervousness through Isabel. “He did not say that. He said I should consider James’s proposal.”
“Which was marriage! To Lord Nicholas!”
“Yes, but that does not mean that he would like to marry me.”
He likely thought her a sad, pathetic case in need of saving.
Lara gave Isabel a look. “Isabel. I think that is precisely what it means.”
“No. It means that I should consider marriage. Not necessarily to him.”
“Isabel. I think you are being deliberately obtuse. It is clear that his statement referred to marriage between the two of you.”
“You cannot know that.”
Neither of us can.
“Indeed, I can! And I shall tell you why. We haven’t seen another marriageable man at Townsend Park in two years! Who would you have him suggest you marry? And…” she added, “I saw the way he was looking at you. The way you were dancing. He wants you.”