Page 61 of The Lover's Eye
He turned to look at her, a sweet smile of amusement at his lips.“Excellent.You must let me know what you make of it.”
“Perhaps you might come and ask me?”Isobel asked in a much softer tone, sparks and heat threatening to burn the flesh from her face.
“I shall do that,” he said, his own demeanor turning giddy.With his hands in his pockets, he gave a parting grin and disappeared into the library.
His dog, which Isobel had been humored to discover was named Smooch, appeared out of thin air and raced after him.The beautiful spaniel had yet to come close to her, much less permit her touch.Just one more individual to win over in her new home.
In her chambers, Isobel allowed the maid acting in Betsey’s stead to help her out of her dress and stays.From there, she dismissed her, handling her stockings and chemise herself.There was a fire burning in the grate to stave off the cold night, and the hot water in the portable tub felt exquisite against her skin.
Isobel exhaled, settling into the water.Cambo House had seemed so imposing the first time she’d seen it some four months earlier.She was far from at her ease, but in less than a day she had developed hope that she could make this her home.Love living here, even.
Tomorrow she would have to set about meeting the staff and making a good first impression.They must be as wary of her as she was of them.All she needed to show them was her kindness, and reassure them she would not uproot or ridicule their well-run routines.Mr.Finch, however, might prove more difficult.
She stayed in the bath until the water grew chilled.She was freezing by the time she got out, gooseflesh springing up all over her body as she dried and pulled a nightdress over her head.
The same servant returned to take away the bath things and stoke the fire, but Isobel declined any further aid.She tended to her own hair and put on a warm dressing robe before settling onto the chaise by the hearth.
She got several pages into Giles’s book, but found her mind continued to wander.Recollections of his lips against her own, his body lying next to her, hisfingers—fluttered in her mind and heightened all her nervous sensibilities.She knew what to expect from consummating the marriage, but nothing could settle the unquiet in her stomach.Nothing but him coming to her room and distracting her in the way he had proven to be so damnably skilled at.
Isobel sat the book aside and began an ambling pace around the room.One of her trunks had already arrived and been unpacked.She toyed with the bristles of her brushes, sifted through her dresses.Even though she’d had no intention of returning to Cumberland, she had only packed a fortnight’s worth of goods.Anything more would have aroused suspicion.There were so many of her things still at Ridgeway House; it was one of the points she’d mentioned in her letter to her father.
The arms of the little mantel clock limped onward.Isobel paused as she passed the door that opened into the corridor.Absolute silence.
She began to grow irritated, then concerned.The silence seemed to grow louder, until the absence of sound was more vexing than an overabundance of it would have been.
She gathered her courage, set her shoulders, and passed through the dressing room.
Giles’s bedchamber was saturated in shades of dark blue.It suited him in its simplicity, and it smelled like him, making her heart ache a little.There was a clutter of books on the table beside his bed, and a circular rumple on the covers that she approximated to be the exact size of Smooch.
Isobel smiled gloomily, receding to her own room.Had he changed his mind about her?He had shown concern for her comfort and readiness, why hadn’t she offered the same courtesy?
A light knock sounded against her door.
“Oh,finally,”she said under her breath.Just seeing Giles would be enough now.
Isobel opened the door, her mouth an expectant smile.Her expression dropped.“Oh, it’s you, Betsey.”
The lady’s maid entered, her movements swift and jerky.She had a pained expression about the forehead and breathed rapidly through an open mouth.“I am so terribly, awfully, sorry, miss.”
“It’s really quite all right,” Isobel said, walking back to the chaise and trying to conceal her increasing disappointment.Having had to dress herself and brush her own hair was the least of her concerns.
“To be so calm—you are better than I!”
Isobel stopped, turning slowly to face her.Apprehension seeped into her body, her voice.“What are you speaking of, Betsey?”
“Wait,” Betsey said, pausing mid-pant.“What are youspeaking of?”
Isobel gripped the back of the chaise between her fingers.“If you are not apologizing for your own absence, what has happened?”
Betsey wet her lips, her hands needling around the handle of the bag she held.“It is Miss Gouldsmith, miss.They come to Shoremoss saying her body has washed up.”
22
“Why are you coming to me with this?”Giles’s voice was sharp, his palm clasped against his forehead.He was pacing the library, indifferent to how rude his conduct must appear to his guest.
“I’m sorry for havin’ to do it, Lord Trevelyan,” said the little man standing by the door, his hat in his hands.“But the coroner needs men for his jurors.”
Giles stopped and looked at Mr.Heppel, a country squire who owned a substantial portion of land adjoining Giles’s own.He was also in the volunteer position of local magistrate.“Can’t you ask Pemberton?Or Bellows?”
