Page 9 of The Lover's Eye
His curiosity and dread grew in tandem.At least he had time to set his mind to rights before meeting her at breakfast.
Giles set one foot in the library before he saw her.
She was leaning against a window casing with her back to him, observing the wintry prospect.Brilliant light limned her figure, revealing long, elegant limbs and drawing shimmers from her raven hair.She turned her head ever so slightly and—
My God.
Her beauty stunned him, set his pulse into motion.Her features were striking amidst a smooth olive complexion, but Giles found her eyes the most arresting of all.Large and open, they dominated her face even in profile.Grey—or perhaps a weak blue.
It didn’t matter.It was their keen perception he noticed, their almost translucent quality.They gave the impression of being ever watchful, sensitive to detail in the extreme, and yet … unmoved by everything they saw.
He knew it was impolite to stare as he did, that she could turn her head but a centimeter and see him at once—and yet he did not stop.
God knows how long he stared before the floor creaked beneath his boot.He felt the strength of her gaze before it landed on him, and it did so in the work of an instant.She spun to face him, her posture stiffening.
“Oh, forgive me,” she began, the color heightening in her cheeks.“I’ve inconvenienced your entire household and now your morning, as well.”
The blinding white window revealed her every feature in sharp detail, a momentarily immobilizing distraction.Grey, it is.
“No, you certainly have not.”Giles strode into the room, stopping several paces short of her.Shewasinterrupting his routine.Why was he so quick to refute that?
They stared at each other, unblinking.Giles’s thoughts worked in an incoherent frenzy, until finally, he thought to introduce himself.“Giles.Giles Trevelyan.”He executed a weak bow.
“Isobel Ridgeway,” she said quietly.Her hands began to fidget, but she tucked them against her sides and curtseyed.
“You are Lord Pemberton’s sister, if I understand?”
“Yes.Well, I am Marriane’s—er, Lady Pemberton’s.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ridgeway.”
She smiled at him, a transformative, sweet expression, as though he had offered her an olive branch rather than a common courtesy.Her gaze drifted higher than his eyes, and Giles suddenly wished he had a damned hat.He seldom felt self-conscious anymore; his hair had started greying when he was scarce out of boyhood, but for some unaccountable reason he hated to think what this stranger might make of it.
“The pleasure is mine, Lord Trevelyan,” she said, her expression betraying nothing.“Have you seen my sister recently, by chance?”
“I visited Pemberton, oh, probably a fortnight ago.Is something the matter?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.I received word that she’s taken ill.That is why I deigned to travel in such a mess, you see.”Isobel swept an arm in the direction of the frost nipped window and gave a short laugh.“You must have thought me mad.”
“No,” Giles began, but seeing the light reprimand in those large grey eyes and hearing himself for the reassuring fool he was, he laughed.“Well, I did think it most odd.Though I must say, it makes a great deal more sense hearing of Lady Pemberton’s illness.I regret I cannot be of more help.”
“Oh, you have been exceedingly generous already.I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness, sir.”
A silence passed between their two still bodies, a tension playing about the air that separated them.Giles was still searching for words, grasping at the threads of a conversation he wasn’t ready to end, when she spoke again.
“I will excuse myself, Lord Trevelyan, and let you make use of your library.”
Before he could object, she had given a polite bow and was sweeping past him in a swish of skirts.
♦
“What’s the matter, miss?”Betsey asked upon entering Isobel’s bedchamber.She was leaning so close to the gilt-framed looking glass that if she got any nearer, she was sure to bash her head.
“Oh, nothing,” Isobel hastened to say, straightening herself.Her complexion did not often lend itself to coloring up, but her cheeks were awash with color.The twitch at Betsey’s mouth only provoked more of it.
“Isay,” the pert lady’s maid exclaimed, breaking into a full smile.“You’ve met the earl, haven’t you?”
Isobel turned away and began fidgeting with the items on the dresser.“I’m afraid I made myself quite the fool, Betsey.I could scarcely rest all night, and so I went back to the library—for that’s the only room I’m acquainted with, you see—and he walked in to find me acting quite at home.”She buried her face in her hands.“What an incurable minx he must think me.”
