She turned in surprise, eyes widening. “If you intend to scold me for not listening to you sooner, then you need not. I am tired, I am in no temper for a lecture, and I should very much like to retire in peace.”
“No lecture,” Edmund replied, though hehadbeen preparing a mild chiding. “I just wanted to say… I am sorry the garden party was not what you had hoped. And I am sorry your dress was ruined.”
She eyed him warily. “And… what?”
“I have nothing further to add,” he replied, trying very hard not to think of that glimpse of bare ankle. He knew he should apologize for bursting into the drawing room like that, and he knew he should offer a prayer for her little cuts to heal quickly, but he did not want her to mistake it for an invitation to tease him about what he had seen.
As such, he turned and headed for Vincent’s study, certain that she would not follow him. The events of the party had shaken him, and the last thing he needed was for her to see that, in case she chose—inexplicably—to offer kindness.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hyde Park might have been the closest thing to paradise on Earth, as Isolde strolled with her two dearest friends, Valery and Amelia, down the sunbaked pathways. There was not a cloud in the sky, the plane trees and sycamores offering blissful shade, the breeze warm and gentle, cheering the spirits of even the gloomiest wanderer.
Of course, Edmund was not smiling, but that was of little surprise to Isolde. She knew hecouldsmile, but he seemed incapable of doing so when he was near to her, as if her very presence was a sickness that sapped him of all pleasantries.
“Goodness, I wish thatIhad such a handsome escort,” Valery whispered, flashing a wicked smile. “It is rather counterintuitive, though. How are you supposed to concentrate on society’s eligible bachelors when themosteligible, and the most appealing, is forever walking ten paces behind you?”
Isolde rolled her eyes. “My dear Valery, what would you know of eligible bachelors when you have sworn off gentlemen of every kind? I am surprised you even noticed my irksome chaperone who, by the way, becomes decidedly less handsome when you get to know his character.”
“So, you admit it, you do think he is handsome?” Valery teased.
Amelia hid a chuckle behind her hand. “It would be such a romantic story, Isolde—two former enemies falling hopelessly in love with one another, and you would makesucha beautiful pair.”
“Formerenemies?” Isolde quirked an eyebrow. “There is no ‘former’ about it. As for falling hopelessly in love; there is a greater chance of Valery deciding that she will break her vow of spinsterhood and marry after all. Indeed, if Edmund were the very last man upon the face of this Earth, and I the last woman, I would choose solitude.”
Amelia nudged Isolde lightly in the ribs. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“Methinks the lady is entirely serious,” Isolde quipped.
Amelia chewed her lower lip in thought as they wandered beneath the sprawling boughs of an oak tree that, deep down, Isolde was desperate to climb. Of course, it was not ladylike, but she missed climbing trees and doing whatever she liked without fear of judgment or a scolding. If Valery were a tree-climbing person, for example, she would not have hesitated, for she didnot have her family’s hopes resting on her making a good, fortuitous marriage.
“But did you not swoon even a little bit when he rushed to your rescue?” Amelia asked a moment later. “Was it not terribly heroic and stirring? The way you told the story made it sound utterly wonderful.”
“Then that is the fault of my impeccable storytelling talents,” Isolde insisted, her insides squirming, wishing her friends would not concentrate on the events of yesterday’s garden party any longer. All she wanted to do was forget about it and focus on finding her prince of thorns.
“I was not even injured. Not much, anyway,” she continued. “Yes, it was… kind of him to show such concern, but do not mistake the reason: he was worried my brother would box his ears if anything terrible had happened to me, he was not actually worried aboutmywelfare.”
She did not know if that was true or not, but she had decided that it was, for her own sake. Just as she had decided that any and all feelings that might have sparked during the port incident were to be blamed solely on her shock. Any relief or enchantment she may or may not have experienced, upon seeing Edmund beside her and feeling his hand upon hers was just a result of the fright that Robert had given her.
As for the way he had gently touched her stomach to make sure she was not severely hurt—the less she thought about that, the better, for it only served to fill her chest with a bubbly, restlesssensation. Nor could she dwell too much on the feverish worry that had gleamed in his dark blue eyes for, in truth, ithadseemed very real indeed.
“Well,” Valery remarked, “at least you will not struggle for suitors. I read Lord Spofforth’s apology to you in the papers this morning.”
Amelia nodded. “As did I. Did you read it, Isolde?”
“I must have missed it,” Isolde replied, neglecting to add that she done so deliberately.
She had no interest in anything that Robert had to say, though ithadmade her wonder if she ought to put a message of her own in the papers—an anonymous note, inviting the mysterious gentlemen from the palace gardens to make himself known to her. She would not have to give her name, just an allusion to her identity, something only he would recognize, so he would understand who had written it.
“He was very complimentary about you,” Amelia said. “I doubt there shall be any repercussions.”
Valery snorted. “Let us not pretend that he submitted that apology for any other reason than to save his own skin. Society relishes nothing more than a repentant rake. The ladies will be throwing themselves at him with twice the vigor now. The gentlemen, however, will be throwing themselves at you.”
“I do not want anyone throwing themselves at me,” Isolde said with a chuckle, her imagination conjuring visions that were far too literal. “I just want to find the right gentleman for me, in my own time, but swift enough to appease my mother and brother.”
Amelia dipped her chin to her chest, a bashful shade of pink coloring her cheeks. “I believe my own family has given up on me. I have been through three Seasons, and still have not had so much as a courtship. If I am not careful, they will drag me to a matchmaker or make arrangements themselves. I likely have another Season to search for myself, if I am lucky, but even that could change at any moment.”
“As long as you have me and Isolde, you will never be forced into a marriage of convenience,” Valery said fiercely, as protective as a sister to her friend.
