Page 40 of The Lover's Eye
With that final, proud pronouncement, Giles was left alone.He hoped it was his lucky day.
He blew out a tremendous breath, wishing he could wrangle his coat off so that he might breathe more easily.But he would never be able to get it back on by himself.Besides, it was more likely the prospect of spending all evening with Isobel Ridgeway that had his chest in knots.
♦
“‘Unless your betrothed deems it necessary for propriety’s sake’,” Isobel repeated in a low, derisive mumble, crossing her arms forcibly over her chest.“What’s it to him if I marry?”
She picked up a pillow and, with a sharp grunt, threw it violently at the door.The action had already been taken when she realized that same door was opening.
The mass of white nearly throttled Betsey in the throat.It was quick reflexes only that spared both the maid and her silver tray, which was laden with the tea Isobel had requested.Horror shone in Betsey’s eyes, and Isobel leapt to her feet.
“I’m terribly sorry, Betsey.”Isobel reached her in a few strides, taking the weight of the tray into her own arms.“That was not intended for you.”
Betsey continued staring at her in a state of shock.
“Or anyone,” Isobel added, embarrassment causing her lips to tuck in.“It was not intended for anyone.”
Seeming unconvinced, Betsey left Isobel to take her solitary tea in bed.
Isobel could not help but question her own words.Had the airborne pillow truly been unintended for anyone, or would she have liked to wallop Lord Trevelyan with it?
She hated how reactive she was to his words.The way he had spoken them was half the affront: his eyes distant and emotionless, his tone clipped close with judgement.She had gathered her courage and sought him out, attempting to pay him a compliment, and that was the treatment she got?
The scene had been gnawing at her nerves ever since.It humiliated her enough that she hadn’t recounted what happened when she returned to the carriage with Marriane, but rode home in silence and shut herself in her chambers to fume.
Marriane burst through the door without warning.“Isobel!Whatever is the matter?”
She wore a muslin dress of French grey, a long string of pearls spilling down her front.She came to Isobel’s bedside and sat, causing the cup of tea to quaver on its tray.Isobel snatched it up and drew it to her mouth, not wanting to spare a drop.“Nothing,” she said, licking the sweet residue from her lips.“I merely wanted to rest this afternoon.”
One side of Marriane’s mouth ticked up distrustfully.“Mm … That does not explain why your maid looked horrified leaving this room.Does this have something to do with Trevelyan?”
Isobel scoffed.“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m not daft.You practically fell out of the carriage when you saw him the second time, and seemed significantly less enthusiastic upon your return.What did you two speak about?”
“I spoke to him only briefly.It was not a conversation of consequence.”
Marriane nodded slowly, and then more firmly, until the weight of her body coerced the bed into a nodding motion, too.Her eyes were narrowed and catlike, seeking answers from her prey.
“Stop it,” Isobel cried, exasperated.“You’ll make a mess of my tray.I’ve given Betsey work enough this morning as it is.”
Her sister rose, taking a slow turn around the room and laying light touches on a brush, a ceramic figurine, Isobel’s divested stays.Isobel watched her with wary interest until she drew to an abrupt halt, turning on her heels to face the bed.
“Well, since you are not, in fact, cross with Lord Trevelyan, you won’t mind his dining with us.”
Isobel’s mouth opened to protest, then closed.Hadn’t he explicitly declined her invitation?
“Perhaps you will have a conversation of more consequence tonight?”
Isobel groaned and rubbed her eyes.
Marriane climbed into bed beside her, fixing a cup of tea for herself.“There is something else I wished to discuss with you.”
Isobel’s hand tightened on the linen sheets, drawing them up into her fist.“What is it?A letter?”
Marriane took her time before answering, busying herself with adding sugar to her tea.“I received a letter from Lady Venning,” she said in her quiet, authoritative way.“She is unable to sponsor you.”
Isobel’s limbs went heavy.She had a sudden desire to collapse into the mattress and let the folds of pillows and blankets consume her.
