Page 10 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
She had yet to sleep a wink after her disappointing evening, her mind chewing over the problem of how to get word to Cameron about … well … to get any word to him at all.
She could hardly ask one of the servants to deliver a message to an unknown man without causing a scandal. And what would it matter if she could devise a plan? They had already left Balfour Terrace for Markham House, and directly after breakfast, several carriages would draw to the front of the townhouse so that the Balfours, the Markhams, and numerous servants, including Ethan’s governess and nursemaid, could embark to Wiltshire.
Leaving Cameron far behind without even a word of explanation.
She rubbed her neck to ease the tension building in her shoulders. Isabelle could not afford to display her sense of loss in front of all these strangers. They would require an explanation for her melancholy, which meant she needed to suppress her grief over what might have been if only she could have spent a little time with Cameron. To share a dance and clasp hands in a waltz, to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and the brush of his fingers against her ribs, or even to just engage in proper conversation without hiding in the shadows.
Instead, she had to repress the urge to shed tears over a relationship that had never truly begun and wonder if the gentleman was as regretful as she or if he had found another young lady to occupy his attentions when she had not arrived as promised.
Isabelle was distracted from her maudlin thoughts a moment later when the men reappeared, entering the room while the duke’s cavalier younger brother-in-law stood in the doorway and spoke in a loud voice.
“Everyone, if I may have your attention, I would like to introduce my dear friend to you, who will be joining us in Wiltshire for the holidays.”
The duchess sprang to her feet to join her brother as a familiar blond figure appeared in the doorway behind Mr. Ridley. Isabelle froze before choking back tears of happiness, discreetly running a hand over her face before patting her hair and smoothing her dress.
It was unbelievable. Was the friend Cameron had sought these past days the brother to the duchess?
After a few moments, the duchess brought the new arrival over, while Isabelle rose to her feet.
“Isabelle, may I present the Honorable Mr. Cameron Bolton? Miss Evans, Bolton and my brother are the only single guests of our house party, so I do hope you might find some time to spend together to keep each other entertained.”
The young duchess gave a broad smile as she directed the final remark to the gentleman, a mischievous twinkle in her brandy eyes, and Isabelle got the sense that Her Grace was playing matchmaker. The duchess turned to give a knowing wink to her brother, confirming Isabelle’s suspicions that Mr. Ridley had confided something about the situation. She would be mortified if she had not been overtaken with a rushing giddiness that made her feel unsteady on her feet.
Careful to hide her great happiness, Isabelle held out her hand which Cameron gathered up in his larger, gloved one to place a fleeting kiss on her knuckles as he bowed, sending a rush of warmth up her arm to settle in the region of her overflowing heart.
Straightening, Cameron’s warm brown eyes found hers to stare into the very depths of her soul before he spoke in a deliberate and sincere tone. “It is my great pleasure to meet you, Miss Evans.”
Isabelle smiled in delighted response.
And mine, Mr. Bolton. And mine.
CHAPTER 5
DECEMBER 7TH, 1820
Cameron tugged at his burgundy wool cuffs and anxiously combed his hair with unsteady fingers while pacing in his black Hessians.
The duke’s country seat was a grand honey-colored manor surrounded by ample parks, including the shimmer of a lake peeking through the trees on the horizon. The square-paned windows and arches of the Avonmead library formed a tapestry displaying the last rays of sunlight in washes of red, purples, and various strains of oranges reminiscent of steeped tea, but Cameron was too bemused to appreciate this view of the heavens.
Over the past two weeks while staying in the elegant home, Cameron and Isabelle had participated in activities together for most of the days and evenings, spending as much time together as they could manage.
Several times, Ridley had complained that bringing a friend along to keep him entertained had been a pointless endeavor because Cameron was perpetually taking part in family entertainments.
But Cameron did not care. He was going to steal every moment he could with the lovely young woman whom he adored.
The two had taken to secretly meeting before dinner each day in an alcove behind the spiral staircase in the library, where he now awaited her arrival. Their time together had been wondrous. They shared their thoughts, their favorite books, and their concerns. He knew she was the woman who would own his heart for the rest of his days because he felt truly happy in her presence.
However, in a few days, the Balfours would depart from the duke’s house party and head to the earl’s country seat in Saunton, while Cameron would be left behind unless … unless their relationship progressed. He needed to secure Isabelle as his own before he found himself separated from her yet again.
The earl appeared to be amenable to their burgeoning relationship, and Cameron was confident he would be received favorably by the lord when it came time to request a private meeting.
At these runaway thoughts, he raked his fingers through his hair again while he pondered his impending proposal and awaited her delightful arrival. The conversation he planned this evening was more daunting than the eve before a campaign.
Cameron spun around when he heard light footsteps approaching. Receding into the alcove lest someone walk by, he watched appreciatively while Isabelle traversed the expansive library, weaving around the eclectic mix of furniture. She was utterly charming, her hair framing her face while her eyes reflected the last light of sunset. His eyes fell to the pink bow lips that were the subject of his frustrating nightly dreams, a wave of hot desire distracting him from his anxious anticipation.
Isabelle entered the alcove, a pretty blush washing her cheeks when she shyly rushed against him in an embrace of velvet and lace. Cameron traced the back of his fingers down the curve of her cheek, savoring her sweet fragrance of apple blossoms before wrapping his arms around her to lean down and claim her mouth with his own.
Her lips were warm and soft, molding to his until they were one. Two bodies, two souls, two hearts beating in perfect unison. She sighed gently, allowing him to sweep his tongue between her parted lips to caress her own in hungry ardor. His hand rested on her waist before creeping up from her waist as close as he dared to brush against the underside of her full breast.
