Page 48 of Lord Farleigh and Miss Frost

This time when he reached the chorus, everyone sang along with him. Indeed, the room shook with the clapping and stomping of feet, and laughter filtered through from more than one table. Simon worked them through one verse after another, singing the chorus faster each time. He made it all the way to the nest on the limb, and the limb on the branch, the branch on the tree, the tree in the hold, and the hole in the bog…

But before he finished up the chorus, he made eye contact with Isleen. And she knew he’d forgotten what came next. When he took in a lung full of air and did not immediately expel it in song, the room stilled, a few laughed, and Isleen sprang to her feet and his rescue.

“Well, in that nest there was a bird, a rare bird and a rattlin’ bird—” They sang the next line together, and she clapped as she went to stand beside him. His eyes glowed with his thanks, and he did not forget another word.

The bird had an egg, and in that egg was another bird, and on that bird there was a feather… And when they reached the end of the chorus for the last time, Simon raced through the words so fast Isleen could hardly keep up—and burst into laughter the moment they were finished at last. The whole room roared happily, applause came from everyone who wasn’t holding a mug, and then from those who had happily finished their drinks down to the last drop.

Simon laughed, too, between gasps for air. He put his hand out to steady himself against the hearth as the cheers around them dwindled into conversation. His eyes focused on hers, and Isleen resisted the urge to check her hair in the mirror hanging over the hearth.

She must look a sight. The weather, the vibrant song…

Her cheeks blazed warm, and she wondered if she looked as wild as she felt at that moment.

Simon’s gaze softened. “Thank you. I think that’s been the most interesting thing you’ve yet asked me to do.”

“And certainly the most enjoyable to watch.” She laughed, her lungs tight and her words too breathless. The song had undoubtedly taken it out of her.

He lowered his voice and stepped closer. “Thank you for not leaving me to make a fool of myself alone.”

She attempted to brush aside the compliment. “Ach, I love that song too much to let you ruin it.” And she certainly needn’t sway closer to him still, but she found herself doing so anyway. Why did her legs feel unsteady? She hadn’t imbibed enough to lose her senses.She’d barely taken a sip of her drink!

“Isleen—”

Simon jerked forward as a hand clapped loudly against his back. Sir Andrew had come up behind them. “That was brilliant, my friend. Absolutely perfect. Josie, what did you think?”

Josephine sounded as though she barely held back laughter as she spoke to her brother. “You have a talent, Simon. Next time we have a concert at home, I’ll tell Father you must be allowed to lead us all in song.”

“Can you imagine what Grandmother’s reaction would be to a song like that?” Simon chuckled, then sighed. “I enjoyed myself. Maybe I ought to become a soloist. Or a choir director. What do you think, Miss Frost?”

He had called her by her Christian name a moment before. Isleen had heard it. She wouldn’t forget it, either. But she smiled still the same when he addressed her, and the four of them spent the remainder of the dark afternoon and evening in conversation. Until Josephine started to yawn; when her eyes drooped, her husband sent both ladies upstairs to their rented room.

Long after Josephine fell asleep beside her, Isleen remained awake, her mind circling round and round the scene Simon had made, standing at the front of the room, and how it had felt to join him in singing that ridiculous, joyful song.

If only the song were longer. A dozen verses instead of eight. But then, it always had to come to an end. But, oh! How she wished she could have remained at Simon’s side for a few minutes more. Just to hear what he had wanted to say when he had called herIsleen.

CHAPTER15

Snow blanketed everything. When Isleen stepped outside the morning after the storm, she had to shield her eyes from the bright white powder reflecting the sun’s light. Men were already on rooftops, tied to chimneys, checking their roofs for damages. A small contingent of farmers had arrived at the inn to make certain all inside were safe and well. Then they went on, in a sleigh pulled by one of the largest horses Isleen had ever seen.

Simon stood next to her, and Sir Andrew was on her other side. Josephine had remained indoors, not at all curious about what the world outside looked like after a long night of snowfall.

“The horses can make it up the hill if we stay to the road,” Simon murmured. “But only if the whole of it isn’t covered in ice.”

“The ice didn’t last long before it turned to rain.” Sir Andrew looked northward, where the hill and trees of Clairvoir rose at the end of the valley. “I can make an attempt for it and come back for all of you if it’s safe.”

Simon shook his head. “I should go. You stay with Josephine.”

“You’re the duke’s heir. What if your horse slips on a patch of ice and you break your neck?” Sir Andrew demanded, and he sounded rather exasperated with his friend. Isleen wondered, dimly, how many times the baronet must have won their debates with that argument.

When Simon spoke, he sounded dismissive at best. “And you’re a married man with a wife—my sister—to care for. My father has another heir.”

Isleen winced. Even in jest, Simon taking his value so lightly unsettled her. When he spoke of his place as heir, he seemed to have only two opinions on it. The first was that he existed under a tremendous weight of expectation—whether his own, or his family’s, she couldn’t say. The second, in moments like this, when he devalued himself as nothing more than a link in a chain, easily replaced by his younger brother.

“I could go,” she offered, already knowing what they would say and preparing her arguments.

“We wouldn’t send a lady up an icy hill by herself.” Sir Andrew scoffed at the idea, but not unkindly. “You must remain here.”

She expelled a breath that filled the air before her with fog. “I am an excellent rider.”

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