Page 65 of The Lover's Eye
He took a seat on the edge of the bed, adding his weight slowly, and traced his fingertips up the length of her arm, her neck, her earlobe, and along the ill-proportioned plait streaming across her pillow.When he drew his thumb to her cheek, he found it was hot and damp.
Did she cry herself to sleep?
Guilt gripped him with the force of an iron fist.His breath came thin as ribbon, his eyes stinging furiously.
On the table beside her bed lay the book he had given her and a handkerchief.He pressed his hand against it—cold and tear-soaked.
Giles, too, could have wept then.It would have taken little effort; unspent tears burned the inner corners of his eyes.He recalled the brightness in her eyes earlier that evening, the notes of timid, excited sensuality her voice had taken on.The blissful moments they had stolen in this very bed.
She had expected him tonight.Wanted him, even.No doubt she thought he’d failed her miserably.And even though he could not have prevented the night’s events, he was consumed by guilt.
He rose, bending to brush a featherlight kiss to her temple.He built up the fire on the grate, trying to make as little noise as possible as he added enough firewood to keep her warm until morning.
And then he left.
♦
Isobel did not open her eyes when the door closed behind him.She waited minutes still, until she heard the settling of his body in his own bed.A pinch of regret stole her then, and she wondered if perhaps she should have pretended to awake to his soft touches.
But no.It was better if he thought she was capable of sleep.Besides, she was not ready to see him.What words could she utter that weren’t questions about Aurelia, the very topic she’d promised not to broach?
She was thoroughly incapable of pretending this was an ordinary wedding night.Her husband had received word that his original intended was well and truly dead.Washed up in Ceto’s Hole, that’s what Betsey had said.
Finch had come a short time later.“His lordship tasked me with informing you that he will not be up tonight.”His expression always erred on the side of unreadable, but something like smug satisfaction played at his lips as they formed the words.
After that, Isobel had not expected Giles to come to her at all.She could only assume he was comparing her to his first bride, choosing to mourn the love he’d lost rather than nurture something new.
Isobel thought of the heaps of praise that swam around Aurelia Gouldsmith’s name like mystical dust, lauding her beauty and charm.And that had been when society only assumed she was deceased.Now that she had been found …?
Isobel felt squeamish and burrowed more deeply beneath the counterpane.She was grateful for the refreshed fire, at least, but Giles’s visit and acts of gentleness only confused her further.Was he going to attempt to have it all?A marriage of substance with her, and yet never releasing the memory of his first love?
An ugly seed of jealously sprouted in Isobel.The first skirmish was over, and she had plainly lost to Aurelia.
23
When Betsey came to rouse Isobel the next morning, she found her already up.
“Good morning, Betsey,” she said from her seat by the fire.She sat a book down and folded her hands in her lap.“Do catch me up on the chattering belowstairs.”
Betsey stood open-mouthed, finally closing the door behind her and going to the dressing table to put hot water in the basin.“We are not well informed, ourselves, miss.”
“I suppose it’s ‘my lady’ now, isn’t it?”
The lady’s maid ceased pouring the water, her face taking on color.“Oh, yes, of course, milady.Forgive me, I am so used—”
“I was not giving you a scold,” Isobel said, smiling wistfully.“I can hardly believe it myself.”
Isobel began her washing, while Betsey laid out a dress of lavender cambric and a warm ivory shawl.“Tell me, Betsey, is my husband taking breakfast downstairs?”
Betsey’s face tightened.“He might be, milady, but I know he’s to leave soon.”
“Whatever for?”Isobel’s tired muscles clenched with tension, and she had the sudden urge to dash down the stairs half-dressed so that she might not miss him.
“The inquest, of course.”
“Inquest?”
“For Miss Gouldsmith?”Betsey led tentatively.“Lord Trevelyan is expected to be a part of it.”
