Page 96 of The Lover's Eye
She had misread him.The pain in his eyes had shattered her, cut her bone deep with the realization that he was keeping secrets for a reason other than distrust.He was petrified.Wounded.
I was glad to be done with their damned mess.
The words echoed in her mind, linking with a dozen other clues.It couldn’t be true.But if it was …
Giles would never tell her.She would have to find the proof for herself.
It was about more than curiosity now.Isobel wanted to free her husband of what haunted him, and only the truth could do that.
She waited to rise from bed until sunlight threatened behind the curtains.Pausing by the dressing room door, she cast a glance over her shoulder.Giles did not stir an inch.She might have worried about him, had she not seen the relaxed skin between his brows, the barely perceptible tilt of his lips.He had clung to her all evening and night, like a man starved of love and making up for lost time.He now slept with the same indulgent fervor.
“Take good care of him, will you?”she whispered, crouching to rub Smooch behind the ears.The spaniel leant against her legs and licked her hands.Isobel grinned like a child.Oh yes, she was finding her place in this family.
She crept back to her own bedchamber, dressing quietly and without ringing for Betsey.Hopefully she would be returned before Giles awoke, but she penned a note and left it on her bed as a precaution.
Darling,
I have gone to visit Marriane.The coachman will see me brought back before dinnertime—not to worry.Oh, and Giles?
I love you.
Isobel
The quill pen shook a little as she set it down, but she smiled at the words.Tonight, she would speak them.And after this one, final endeavor into the past, she would leave it there, along with all trace of half-truths.
She wasn’t going to see Marriane, she was going to that island.
Isobel stepped into the corridor to find Mr.Finch and Giles’s valet standing in shadow, engaged in quiet conversation.They stopped talking as soon as they saw her.“Good morning, milady,” they echoed.
“Good morning.”She saw the curious draw of their eyes, no doubt wondering why Giles was still abed.“My husband is resting well.I ask that no one disturb him, and I need the carriage brought around.”
“Yes, milady,” the valet said with a bow, striding away to carry out her wishes.
The old butler remained, his eyes two dimensional and penetrating in the dark hall.
“Mr.Finch, if there is anything you should like to say to me, I beg you to voice it now.”
He said nothing.
Isobel almost walked away, but paused, bracing her feet.“I must confess I am sick of your nonsense.Perhaps I could understand losing your favor after what occurred with the luncheon, but I never possessed it, did I?”
She took a step closer, the action of her tongue instilling confidence.“Since the first moment of our meeting, you have detested me.You find me unsuited to be Lady Trevelyan.”
Finch still said nothing, but the harsh lines of his face subdued.He looked as though he wanted to run from this conversation, and only propriety kept him in place.
“Mr.Finch, let me speak plainly.I have a place here.I know how you value your duty to my husband, and if you should like to help him, perhaps you can begin by giving me a fighting chance.He needs us both.”
They stood, eyes locked, for an extended moment.The butler bowed, and when he rose, said, “Yes, my lady.”
As Isobel left him in the hall, she felt his eyes on her.It was a sensation that had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up for weeks, made her posture shrink and her mind unravel with concerns forwhat must he think of me?
Not today.Mr.Finch was watching Lady Trevelyan leave, perhaps a little shocked to have found her in a woman he had long underestimated.
♦
The coachman gave Isobel a peculiar look when she asked to be dropped off at the gates of Shoremoss Hall rather than be driven up to the house.However, when she held his gaze steadily, he tamed his raised brows and assented.
“You may return for me at seven this evening,” she said.“I will be waiting for you, just here.”
