Page 60 of The Lover's Eye
News of her and Trevelyan’s marriage would spread like Greek fire.Though Lord Ridgeway seldom journeyed beyond Kittwick, he was well connected socially by the flapping jowls of Lady Sempill.Oftentimes he ignored her, missing even the most scandalous tales in lieu of petting his beloved cat, but there was no way he wouldn’t take an immediate, outraged interest in the clandestine marriage of his own daughter.
Isobel felt nauseous.Before, his reaction had been a probability to think on with apprehension.Now, it was reality.She was a married woman, and had defied the assurance she’d given her papa before leaving.
She had been dishonest.Deceived him out of necessity, yes, but that didn’t absolve her of all guilt.
There was a mahogany escritoire in her bedchamber, already stocked with various types of parchment and a beautiful, silverplate double inkwell.She took her seat, her heart pulsing with a different—and far less pleasurable—excitement than when Giles had been in the room.
The memory of his recent touch flooded her brain, and she blushed for no one at all.She had never imagined hopping into bed with him the same morning as their wedding, but she certainly didn’t regret it.And to think, she had questioned if theirs would be a marriage of convenience?
Not hardly.The answer was written everywhere, emblazoned in every touch and slipped beneath every spoken word: they cared for one another.
It took an exorbitant length of time for Isobel to find the right words to pen to her father.She decided that when one secretly married a suitor already rejected by their parent, no words felt right at all.Even as she struggled, waiting so long between words that each appeared to be written in a different, shaky hand, there was peace deep within her heart.
Isobel had complete certainty she had done the right thing in marrying Giles Trevelyan.The affection he was raising in her was unlike anything she had ever experienced.He was so tender and respectful, she felt like laying herself at his feet.
She smiled to herself, knowing if she did such a thing even in jest, he would probably pick her up and tell her she must think better of herself.
Their lunch was unfortunately abbreviated by Mr.Finch, who called Giles away on estate business.As Isobel picked at her cold dish, she almost wished they had taken a honeymoon away, like Marriane and Pemberton had.She began to daydream about what countries they might venture to, what experiences they might share.She broached the subject when they rejoined for dinner.
“I’m afraid we cannot go far until Napoleon is defeated,” Giles said.“Though the war’s end is looking more hopeful, my dear.”
Isobel flushed to the crown of her head at the term of endearment.She basked in his intimacy.“Did you have a Grand Tour?”
He shook his head.They had taken seats next to each other, ignoring the look it earned from Finch.Isobel decided the unfriendly gaze had been worth it, now that she was peering close into her husband’s face, watching his lips curve around the edge of his glass.
“My upbringing was of a different sort.I had a tutor here, of course, and then went off to university.But my father was ill enough by my seventeenth year I knew it best to stay here and ensure the estate ran smoothly.”
Isobel felt sorrow for him.Losing her own mother had been difficult, the absence growing more marked with age and each new stage of life.She had been so young, she had few fully formed memories of her mama.It was difficult to imagine what Giles had been through, losing both parents.It made her even more anxious to hear back from her own father and make amends at the earliest opportunity.
“I’m terribly sorry you went through that,” she said.
Giles lifted his head to smile at her, and ran his hand from her shoulder to the bent of her elbow.“You’re very kind, but there’s no need to pity me.Cambo House was more important to me then, too.Enough so that I did not miss the loss of travel like you might imagine.”
“Do you not have an interest in it?”
His expression turned pensive, and he took a long moment to chew a bite of food before answering.“It wasn’t that.The other boys, well, let’s just say they weren’t very fond of me.I was a bit of a curiosity, what with my books and my hair.I doubt very much that I would have enjoyed a tour in their company.I don’t know that they wouldn’t have tried to toss me off some distant bridge or other.”
He met Isobel’s horrified expression and sat down his silverware.“I’m only jesting,” he said, putting his hand back on her elbow.
“I can see that’s not true.”
He grinned.“Nothing much gets by you, does it?”
She returned his smile tentatively, but her heart still ached at the revelation.
“It’s been a long time, now.I seldom think of it anymore.That’s how I grew to know Pemberton, actually.He was about the only lad who would stand at my defense.He was a rude, hulking creature, even then.”
This loosened a laugh from her, and they spent the rest of their meal in pleasant conversation.
To her dismay, Betsey had yet to arrive by the time dinner concluded, and another of the servants was sent to prepare her a hot bath.She and Giles lingered at the base of the stairs.
“Hopefully she will be arrived by the time you are finished with your bath,” he said, staring at his boots and lightly tapping one foot.
“Yes, hopefully so.”
Giles gave a little nod and made a motion to depart for the library.Isobel scrambled for words she didn’t have—all her allicient sensuality had ceased to exist beyond the walls of her bedchamber.
“And then I will read my book,” she said, a little too loudly.
