Page 45 of The Lover's Eye
Isobel knew she had said yes because of him.Yestohim,however foolish she may be.
Allow me to prove my worth to you.
She found her eyes tracing those curvaceous ink marks more than all the rest.She had not expected that phrase from his cool, distant deportment, but then again, she acknowledged she knew so little of him.
Whatever strange intimacy they shared remained largely unspoken, communicated through invisible threads and earnest gazes.
When sleep at last found her, Trevelyan’s note was still clasped in her hands.
16
Giles wished he could remember just what he had written on that notepaper in such a hell-fire hurry.He had been filled to the brim with both drink and feeling.A reckless combination for any man, but particularly for one such as himself.He always kept his feelings close against his breast, well concealed and heavily armored.
Allow me to prove myself?Allow me to win your forgiveness?Allow me to court you?
Surely it had not been so brash as that last suggestion cast up by his brain, or he would not have received such a sparse, dignified response from Isobel.All he knew for certain was he had made an appeal for her forgiveness, and now she would be here, at Cambo House, in two days’ time.
Along with Pemberton and her sister,Giles reminded himself.It would not be like their first meeting.He would not be free to walk her over the grounds and find the right words to tell her how painstakingly desirous he had become of her.
He rang for Mr.Finch.The butler entered the library within seconds, his polished shoes soundless against the carpet.“How may I be of service, my lord?”
“Ah, there you are.I hardly heard you.”Giles set down his pen.“I am in want of your opinion.”
The older man’s lips tilted faintly up.“Anything I can do to help, sir.”
“I am having the Pembertons over on Saturday, and Miss Ridgeway along with them.I’m to bring them ’round in the phaeton and show them the gardens, but it all seems a bit … I don’t know, middling.What can I do to give them a truly pleasurable day?”
“I cannot imagine anything done at Cambo House would be found wanting, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir.”
Giles gave the old retainer a boyish smile.“Ever faithful you are, Finch.But I am seeking to give them an exquisite experience.”Her,his mind silently amended.
The butler nodded, his gaze travelling the carved wood trim on the ceiling.“Perhaps we could prepare a tea service using Lady Trevelyan’s finest china, and hire a quartet for some entertainment.”
Giles had no interest in dragging out his late mother’s elaborate porcelain.His thoughts had veered into grander territory.“What do you think of fireworks?If they stayed on until evening, we could set the whole garden aglow with them, and some of those illuminations as well.Perhaps for the portico doors.”
The old servant’s countenance was severe, the lines etched into his skin deepening.“I have not had any experience with such entertainments, my lord, but have heard they are hazardous and apt to start fires.”
Giles craned his head to look more closely at Mr.Finch.“Is something else the matter?Speak plainly, Finch.You know I prefer it.”
“It is only Miss Aurelia I think of, my lord.She is yet to be found.”
“Do you suppose I am courting Miss Ridgeway then?”It sure as the devil was his intention.He was going to offer her everything he had first planned: his heart, his hand in marriage, and—if she would not take it—his aid in any form.
Finch said nothing, his hands remaining in a flaccid fold behind his back, his feet parked squarely beneath him.
“Might I remind you of what I myself know so well,” Giles said, his tone taking on a sharp edge.“It has been months since Miss Gouldsmith stormed out of this room.If she were alive, you may count upon it she would have returned before now.”
Finch’s expression did not alter.“Certainly, my lord.”
“You may go.”
The butler left, but his words lingered behind.Giles found himself bristling with irritation, and he went and did something he had not done in a good while: he visited Aurelia’s room.
The bedchamber was two doors down from his own, but it was not intended to be the lady of the house’s room.There was a much more spacious bedchamber designated for that purpose, which joined his own by a little dressing room.Still, it was the one Aurelia had chosen.
Giles’s hand hesitated before reaching for the door handle.When his fingers settled on it, the metal was cold, unwelcoming and morbid.A heavy feeling settled over his shoulders like a yoke upon two oxen.
A room of fair blue assailed his eyes.It had been vacant for months—no, that was not entirely true.It had stood empty for years.Only the hope of activity had been promised to it when Aurelia had begun its redecoration.
