Page 24 of Love’s Refrain at Roslyn Court (Noble Hearts #2)
Twenty-Four
ISAAC
T he dinner had been interminable, despite the excellent food.
Forced to sit between Lady Poole and her friend Mrs Wright, and directly across from Louisa, Isaac struggled to make conversation about things he cared nothing about and with people he would just as gladly never speak to again.
All he cared about was Sophia, in the same room as him at last, but so far down the table that she might as well have been in a different town.
His eyes were drawn to her against his will, and all he saw, every time he looked up, was Sophia, looking so beautiful in her soft pearl gown, her hair in elaborate coils on her head, with Bladestock beside her, absorbing her every word.
Damn the man for being so handsome, with his blond curls and sea-blue eyes. Damn him for having so little fortune that Lady Poole chose to match him with her niece. Damn him for being a decent enough fellow that Sophia just might choose him after all.
The soup curdled in his stomach.
And after the meal, when the ladies rose to move to the salon and Bladestock followed, Isaac knew what the man was about.
No , he wanted to scream, stop now! She is mine! But he could not, despite the slice of his fingernails biting into his palms. This was agony. And it was all his own fault.
Neither Sophia nor Bladestock was present when the men finally went to join the ladies.
They must be celebrating their engagement in private; there would surely be an announcement made this evening, likely as soon as all the guests had arrived.
Lady Poole wore an unreadable expression on her face, and by her high-eyebrowed glances at him every so often, Isaac was certain she knew something.
She would, however, say nothing. Of that, he was equally certain.
The moment he had been dreading came soon enough, when Louisa threaded her way through the gathering crowd, seeking him out.
“Isaac,” she hummed, whilst keeping an artificial smile on her pretty face, “we have to talk. Will you join me somewhere quiet? The library, perhaps? Diane is there already, lest Mama get ideas.”
At least one person was being sensible tonight.
He gulped back his distress and nodded. She was going to tell him about Sophia’s betrothal. He knew it.
“I shall go there now. Join me in a few minutes.”
With those words, Louisa melted back into the crowd.
How long could he delay this torture? He felt like a condemned man, being led to the guillotine.
This was what he had been fighting in Spain; how ironic that now, back on English soil and finally removed from the fray of battle, he was being confronted with a fate as dire as that of those noblemen who fell to the Terror.
Five minutes… ten… he could postpone the blade’s fall, but he could not stop it. If he was to know heartbreak, better to get it over with. He steeled himself and marched through the quiet halls towards the library, ready to hear whatever dire news Louisa had to tell him.
Louisa was standing in the dim light of the room, her back to the window through which the gardens could be seen.
It was still light outside—the sun set late at this time of year—and the sunlight behind her cast her into a silhouette with a halo of fair ringlets.
Her sister, Diane, sat in a large armchair by the cold hearth, her own eyes wide with question.
Did the young lady know nothing? Had Louisa not told her of… Isaac could not finish that thought.
Louisa’s first words, however, came as a shock.
“Do you know where Sophia is? I have not seen her this age.”
Where Sophia was? Did Louisa not, then, know that her cousin was engaged? Could there be a misunderstanding? Could the deed not be accomplished? Isaac refused to feel hope, but he allowed himself a lightening of his despair.
“I have not seen her. Not since dinner. Mr Bladestock?—”
“Oh heavens, no!” Diane spoke from her chair. “She cannot marry him. She does not love him.”
“Hush, Diane!” Louisa chided her sister, but she did not counter her words. “That is what I wished to warn you about. Mr Bladestock! Mama has quite decided that if he will not step up and offer for Sophia himself, then he must be made to do so. I heard Mama talking?—”
“You were sneaking at doorways,” Diana corrected. She was met by another glare.
“I happened to overhear Mama talking to somebody, I know not who, that she would force the matter if necessary. Since Sophia is not here to inform us of any news, we must assume that Mr Bladestock has not—yet—done Mama’s bidding.
” Her voice grew increasingly agitated. “Isaac, you have to stop them!”
“But—” What was happening? “Why should she not wish to marry him? She seems to like him well enough, and he needs the dowry your mother has been arranging for her.”
“She cannot marry him because she does not love him. I said that already,” came Diane’s reply.
This time, Louisa did not chastise her. “It is true. Not only does Sophia not love him, she loves somebody else.”
Isaac opened his mouth, but no words came out. Could it be?
“You. You are a dolt. She loves you.” Louisa’s words struck him like shots from a pistol, each stinging and biting into him.
“And I know that you love her. You have all but confessed it to Jeremy, and he had to tell me. We cannot have the two of you pining for each other, each too terrified to grasp happiness when it is presented to you.”
Isaac’s head was swinging back and forth on his neck. His cravat was too tight, his collar points too high, his waistcoat buttoned too far up for him to breathe.
“No… I cannot… I dare not...“
Louisa let out a huff, quite unlike what might be expected of a baronet’s daughter.
“If you do not, somebody else will. Like Mr Bladestock, whom I like well enough, but he is not the one for my cousin. Listen. Mother has a plan, which she is setting into action. This is what I heard. She will send Sophia to the cottage—you know the one, the place we used to play, with the little toy piano and the old chairs—and then she will contrive to send Mr Bladestock there as well, and when she thinks the time is right, she and a set of her friends will discover them. It is simple, and Mr Bladestock is too much of a gentleman to desert her. It will work, unless you stop them.”
Diane said nothing, but stared at him, daring him to be a coward. To remain a coward.
“See,” Louisa turned again to gesture to the gardens, so attractively shown through the window.
“The sun is setting and the lights Sophia arranged to have brought in are starting to glow, just like at Vauxhall in London. It is a lovely evening, and when it gets dark, everybody will wish to be out there, and Mother’s plan will work.
There is the cottage, just visible through the trees. ”
And indeed, it was. Now, in the dying daylight, it was just a grey shape hidden in the curtain of trees. But at night, if a lamp were lit inside, it would be visible to anybody walking outside. A couple enjoying a tryst might easily be discovered.
Isaac’s heart began pounding in his chest, a rattle that drowned out the remembered tattoo of the battle drum, louder than the thunder of gunfire or the cannon’s blast that rang through his head.
A thousand sounds from his mind assaulted him, a thousand images and thoughts danced in his head, taunting, teasing.
He might be a damaged man with a weak mind, but he had never been called a coward. He had marched into battle before, and if necessary, he would do it again. Sometimes, the price of inaction was too high, and all costs were worthwhile.
Now, if he failed to act, he would lose Sophia forever.
He thought he had known this before, but hearing the sisters’ story brought the true import of the dance home for him.
It was real. This was not some hypothetical loss at some future date unknown to anybody.
Rather, it was immediate. It would be tonight, and if Lady Poole had her way, Sophia would likely be married before the month’s end.
And he knew at that moment that he could not let that happen, not without a fight.
He would find her, declare himself. He would tell her all the reasons why nobody should marry him, but he would offer himself regardless. And then, if he lost, he would at least know that he fought for himself for once.
“Yes.”
The one word echoed in the empty library.
The Poole sisters must have left while he was doing battle inside his head. But he knew what he must do.
Isaac squared his shoulders and went out in search of the woman he loved.