Page 38 of The Lover's Eye
“I’m afraid my schedule is terribly full at present.”Trevelyan’s words might have been carved from a glacier.Isobel’s eyes flew up, and he held her gaze, unmoving for a moment, before dismissing himself.
He disappeared down the street, his grey-flecked hair and beaver hat visible above the crowd.Isobel could not help noticing the eyes upon him.He seemed to attract adoring looks from the younger women and curious gazes from the rest.
“Would it be all right if we put off the beach for another day?”Isobel asked, once she and Marriane were alone again.
“If you insist.”
Isobel had just climbed into the carriage and sat down, removing her gloves from her sweating palms, when she saw him again.Lord Trevelyan was untying his horse, preparing to mount.And he was alone.
“Just one moment.”Isobel spoke so quickly, the words came out as a burble.She was rapping on the carriage door, and clambered out unaided when it opened.
Her heart was pounding everywhere, making her limbs weak and the ground unlevel.Trevelyan had just put the reins over his horse’s head when he caught sight of her.For an instant—just a split, barely perceptible slice of time—she thought he looked relieved.Like he could have smiled and embraced her, been as happy to see her as she was him.
The look slipped behind his mask when she stopped in front of him.“Lord Trevelyan.I am sorry to trouble you.I …”Blast.This was more difficult than she had anticipated.“I wanted to thank you, again, for the books.They have been my constant companion these past weeks.”
What a dreadful underestimation.They had been her buoy, her lifeboat.No one ever considered my thoughts important enough to write down—until you.That’s what she wanted to say.
“I am glad to hear it, Miss Ridgeway,” he said, squinting a little, despite the sun having ducked behind a cloud.He looked almost pained to be speaking with her.
“I, um, I brought your volume of Homer with me.To return it to you, of course.I don’t know whether you will be visiting Shoremoss Hall—”
“I think it unlikely I will have time.You needn’t return it.Unless, of course, your betrothed deems it necessary for propriety’s sake.”
Isobel’s mouth fell open.Her betrothed?What in God’s name had he heard?
His horse, an impossibly large, well-muscled creature, sidestepped impatiently.Trevelyan eyed the mounting block, and dipped his hat to her.“Good day to you, Miss Ridgeway.”
Isobel was too stunned to answer, and more than a little offended.With a quiet scoff, she closed her mouth and turned on her heel.As she stomped back toward her sister’s waiting carriage, something like reflex compelled her to angle one final glance over her shoulder.
Trevelyan was doing the same.His dark, handsome profile was bent, his gaze—once again—on her hands.This time, there were no gloves to impede his view, to show him plainly that he was wrong.
There was no ring on Isobel’s finger.
14
If Giles Trevelyan could have exited his own body, he would have for two reasons: first, to escape the crippling embarrassment, and second, to plant himself a facer.
He had figured if he were careful, he might never have to see Miss Ridgeway again.She had only visited her sister the one time, and it was an inimitable trick of nature and timing that had brought her to his own doorstep.His heart fell to the bottom of his boots when she came tumbling out of the haberdasher’s shop, nearly landing onto his chest.
Giles had determined it was time he begin reacclimating himself to society, and thought a trip to the village would be a harmless foray.His surprise—and displeasure—had been immense when he had run up with Reverend GouldsmithandMiss Ridgeway in one blow.
He was riding hard toward Cambo House now.Too hard, he realized.The ground was a slick mess from spring rains, and they were moving at a near gallop.Giles closed on the reins and settled his weight in the saddle until Theseus slowed to a walk.He ran a soothing hand down the blood bay’s well-muscled neck.What must she think of me now?
He’d wondered if Isobel would learn of the visit he paid her father, but he had never seen her that day and never detected a hint of suspicion from the Pembertons, who surely would have learnt of it, too.Now that he had laid eyes on Isobel again, he could feel it deep in the pit of his stomach—
She had no idea.
Why, then, had he acted so harshly?There was no vulnerability to conceal, nothing to protect.It was clear she thought him indifferent to her.But that was earlier.Now, she likely thought he despised her.
He recollected his manners with guttural annoyance, Thesus’s ears flicking back at the growl that left his throat.
She had been smiling.A beautiful, unaffected smile, and he had been the one to wipe it from her face.He’d stepped away from her, when in truth, he wanted to draw closer.He’d even had a second chance to make things right when she came up of her own accord, nervous and stammering.He had been so sure she was engaged.Convinced by her hotheaded father shewantedto be engaged.
Giles covered his face with a hand, rubbing it roughly across his forehead.Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty in declining Lady Pemberton’s offer to dine at Shoremoss Hall.He felt the foolish but inexorable pull to see Miss Ridgeway again, and now that he had acted so brutishly, that desire was amplified tenfold.
As he rode down the winding drive to Cambo House, he did not see the bursting rhododendrons or the soft bed of wild coltsfoot.All he saw was Isobel.
Her smile, and then her wide eyes and parted lips.She had been disappointed in him, surprised by his coldness.
