Page 17 of The Duke's Improper Bride
Isaac sobered, straightening. “What’s that?”
Nora emerged from behind Mrs. White, wringing her hands, her hair down well past her shoulders in a storm of curls, her eyes red. “My sister has run of-off.”
Mrs. White gestured for Isaac to come in, so he did. He reached a hand to gently cup Nora’s elbow, but he quickly dropped it.
“Has she left a note? Is there any clue where she has gone?” he asked. He followed Mrs. White and Nora to the sitting room where her parents sat. Nora’s mother sobbed into a handkerchief, her father smoked a cigar, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Mr. Barnes,” Mr. MacAllen said. “This is a private matter. Mrs. White was ill-advised to invite you inside. Perhaps you can visit again another time?”
Isaac could judge the mood of a room. In fact, his life often depended on it. And while Mr. MacAllen acted as gatekeeper and Mrs. MacAllen fell to pieces, it was Nora who remained solemn beside him, attempting her best to bear the news on her shoulders, and hers alone.
Mrs. White cleared her throat, moving aside for the maid carrying in the tea service. “Mr. Barnes, I believe you may be able to help. It appears Maeve left with Mr. Knight—”
Nora inhaled a sharp breath beside him. With a quick side glance, he saw the tears in her eyes.
“Mr. Knight?” he parroted, regretting it instantly as Nora fled the room.
“You are just as surprised as we are.”
“I’m not,” Mrs. MacAllen said. “Nora pays no attention to Stuart as a fiancé should. No wonder the man—”
Rage, pure, steaming rage erupted within Isaac. “I fail to see how that man’s actions are any fault of Miss MacAllen’s.”
The woman sniffed back tears, indignant. “You wouldn’t understand. We have such different rules.”
He bit his tongue. Rules and etiquette and ceremony. Hang their ceremony when they could all so blindly turn their eyes away from Nora’s hurt and blame her for the wrongdoing of others.
“Have you alerted a constable? Are you worried for Maeve’s safety?”
“Safety?” Mr. MacAllen exclaimed, rising. “If others catch wind of what they’ve done—scandal!”
“Do you have any information to hint at an elopement?”
Mr. MacAllen puffed out his chest. “This is none of your concern.”
“I can attest that Mr. Barnes can help,” said Mrs. White. “ He is probably the best man to do so.”
Isaac swung to meet Mrs. White’s knowing stare. So she truly was a dear friend of Grembly.
Mr. and Mrs. MacAllen turned to one other, bickering. Isaac bowed his head and limped out of the room.
Nora stood alone in the library, a book clutched to her chest. She paced the middle of the room, her shoulders stiff, her eyes still red from crying. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Isaac closed the door behind him. “I don’t expect an apology from you. Nor do I need one.”
She whirled around, her eyes wild. “I don’t expect p-pity.”
He held his hands up in treaty. “Then what do you want?”
“I hardly know you.” Nora exhaled a deep breath. “I barely k-know myself, if I’m honest.”
“I’m not sure we ever know ourselves.” Isaac took another step, then another, slowly, as if he were approaching a cornered animal. “I can help if you let me. But you need to tell me what you need, Miss MacAllen. If you don’t want pity, then don’t take it. You’d be mistaken anyhow, because I don’t pity you.”
Standing almost toe to toe, Nora glanced up, her lips parted, her eyes wide. “Then what? Disdain?”
Heaven help him and this woman. He couldn’t fight the sound of the dry laugh that escaped him. “Quite simply, I like you.”
She drew back. “Like me?”
