Page 10 of The Lover's Eye
“It don’t sound that bad to me,” Betsey said.“But he must be terribly handsome to work you up into such a fuss.”
The salt and pepper curls and inscrutable blue eyes recalled themselves to Isobel.“That has naught to do with it,” she lied.
From across the room, she had perceived him to be an older man, for the soft sweep of his curls were a harmonious distribution of black and silver.But when he stood before her, his face was smooth and bright, undeniably youthful.
And handsome.Irrefutably handsome.
Before Betsey could unleash a flurry of questions, a footman rapped on the door.“Pardon the interruption, miss.Lord Trevelyan is sending a man to Shoremoss Hall, to inquire after Lady Pemberton and inform her of your safety.”
Isobel’s mouth gaped.“Oh, how kind.”
“His lordship thought perhaps you might wish to include a message of your own.”
Isobel rushed into action, thankful for the task.A sheet of quarto, a quill, and an inkwell were supplied for her, and she jotted down a few sentences.She was still anxious to see Marriane in the flesh, but a return letter written in her sister’s own hand would be a reassurance in and of itself.
Isobel’s bedchamber window faced eastward, and she watched as the groom set off a few minutes later, his mount’s hooves leaving oval disruptions on the white hills.It was a kindness wholly unexpected, for Lord Trevelyan to send one of his staff the seven miles to Shoremoss Hall.
“If only they would permit me to go alongside him,” Isobel said, sighing.“I could be at Marriane’s side within the hour.”
“Now that would never suit, and well you know it,” Betsey said, reaching into an open trunk and unpacking more of Isobel’s dresses.“You’ll go only when it’s safe to do so by coach.”
Betsey had been with the Ridgeways for many years, and though she was only a few years her lady’s senior, she often behaved more like a mother figure.It seemed many women in Isobel’s life were anxious to fill that long empty maternal role, however unwelcome their interference.
As Isobel waited for the groom’s return in tense anticipation, she had but one diversion: breakfast with Giles Trevelyan.
The man who had first captured her interest in name only, but now was taking shape before her.Handsome, thoughtful, anddamn him, evidently a reader of books.Isobel’s knees gelatinized.
5
Giles waited for his guest in the breakfast room.He knew his social skills had waned in the recent months he’d spent so disengaged from company, but he’d had no idea they were so bad as all that.
The awkward scene in the library presented itself to him over and over, his embarrassment and self-reprimand growing with each recollection until he was remembering a worse scene than had actually occurred.He was determined to be the cool-tempered gentleman moving forward, to redeem his pride with the stolid masculine air he was known for.
He had even begun telling himself Isobel Ridgeway was not, in fact, as beautiful as she had first struck him.He attributed his reaction to the fact that he had been so long out of company, and expected to see an average-looking woman cross the threshold of his breakfast room.But when Isobel entered, wearing the same sweeping dress of parma violet, Giles swallowed.
For all his reprehensible behavior that morning, perhaps gawking at Miss Ridgeway was one act he could more easily forgive.
They regarded each other with a stiff, uncertain air, and Giles moved to help her into a chair.
“This is a lovely room,” Isobel said as the tea was poured.“All of Cambo House is lovely.”
“Have you seen much of it?”
“I—Well, no, I don’t suppose I have.”Her eyes widened hungrily as steaming plates of food were laid before them.
“Perhaps you will allow me to show you around after breakfast.”
Isobel raised her eyes to him, the first time she had done so since sitting down.He had been watching her, too, but they both diverted their gazes now.
“I would enjoy that.”
Most of their breakfast passed in painful silence.Giles was overly aware of each bite he chewed, each sip he swallowed, the noisy movement of the silverware in his hands.They attempted a feeble conversation about their mutual acquaintances, but found they seldom had any aside from the Pembertons.
“I must thank you,” Isobel said, following a particularly long break in conversation, “for being so good as to send your groom to Shoremoss Hall.”
Giles forced his eyes to remain on his plate.“Think nothing of it.I wanted to ensure Pemberton you had not befallen some harm.”
He saw her posture stiffen out of the corner of his eye and felt instantly guilty.Cool gentleman,he chided himself.Not mannerless scoundrel.Hehadsent his damned groom for her, and well he knew it.
