His head dipped, that sweet mouth so close to her own that one quiet question would make their lips meet in a grazing kiss.
He paused there for a moment, his forehead touching hers, his thumb brushing her cheek gently, an expression of pain furrowing his brow and creasing his eyes. But what was hurting him? Assuredly, Isolde did not know, though if it was anything like the fierce burn in her veins, then she understood the unexpected ache entirely.
“Edmund?” she whispered.
He might have responded, had the squeak of door hinges not jolted them apart as if an entire wasp’s nest had erupted between them. Wide-eyed, the color draining from his face, Edmund staggered further back.
“Isolde? Are you in the breakfast room?” Isolde’s mother called out from the hallway, the front door banging shut.
“In here!” Isolde shouted back without thinking.
Edmund darted across the room and out of the garden doors before Isolde could say a word, leaving her standing there, wondering if she had just imagined the entire thing. After all, there was no possible way that her sworn enemy had been about to kiss her, and she had not been appalled by the notion… was there?
A few seconds later, Isolde’s mother blustered in. “I shall only be a moment, darling. Would you believe that I forgot my bonnet? I was in such a fluster this morning with the haddock business! And, of course, neither of your sisters thought to remind me.They are waiting in the carriage so I must hurry.” She paused, frowning at her daughter. “Isolde?”
Isolde blinked. “Hmm?”
“Are you quite well? You look feverish.” Her mother approached, resting a hand on Isolde’s brow. “Notsowarm, but perhaps you ought to take to your chambers and rest for a while. The housekeeper can turn away any visitors.”
Isolde nodded slowly. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea, Mama. Idofeel rather strange.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
Isolde smiled. “No, you cannot disappoint Prudie, or you may end up with a whole salmon in your bed when you wake tomorrow morning.”
“Goodness, what a thing to say.” Her mother shuddered. “Do not mention anything like that to her; I do not want her getting ideas.”
“I shall keep it to myself, I promise.”
Her mother cupped Isolde's cheek, exactly where Edmund had held her not a moment ago. “Go and rest, sweetling. You have a ball to attend the day after tomorrow, and I cannot have you declining to attend because you are unwell. After all, that lovelyViscount is going to be there, and I should hate for some other lady to swoop in while you are absent.”
“I will, Mama,” Isolde promised, though she was not thinking of the Viscount at that moment. All she could think about was the whisper of Edmund’s breath on her lips, the scent of soap and woodsmoke, the touch of his rough palms against her skin, and the impossible idea of what might have been about to happen if her mother had not forgotten her bonnet.
He would not have kissed me, would he?Maybe, she reallywasunwell, or he was, for that was the only rational explanation she could muster.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Inearly kissed her, Lionel,” Edmund confessed, expelling the words in a rush like he had been holding them in his lungs as a breath. “I do not know what happened to me. It was like… I cannot even begin to explain it, but it must have been a sort of… temporary madness.”
Lionel sat across from him in a quiet public house by the river—not their usual haunt, but Edmund had thought a change of scenery might be nice. A change of scenery where no one of theTonmight accidentally overhear and spread scandalous gossip about the woman he was supposed to be watching over.
“I suspect being alone with her played some part,” Lionel said coolly, pushing his glass of liquor back and forth across the table. “You, of all people, should have known better. Why did you not excuse yourself the moment you realized she was unaccompanied?”
Edmund chewed his lip, feeling utterly disoriented, as if his world had been turned on its head. He valued his own sense of duty and honor; it was the cornerstone of his existence, being the kind of Duke that his mother and father would have been proud of. In one foolish, tempting, otherworldly moment, he had almost undone himself.
“The funny thing is, that was my first thought,” he explained. “Isolde told me that her mother and sisters had ventured out, and my mind began to clang, urging me to leave her be. Instead, I suggested she ought to improve her dancing, though… there is nothing amiss with her dancing. She is very accomplished.”
Lionel raised an eyebrow. “Andyouoffered to be her partner?”
“I do not even like to dance, Lionel,” Edmund mumbled, resting his forehead on his hand, staring at the stains and gnarls in the table’s surface as if he might find answers there. “I wanted to leave, knew I should leave, but I could not. And I am certain I would have kissed her if her mother had not returned when she did.”
Lionel frowned, drumming his fingertips against the wood. “How would she have responded if you had?”
“What?” Edmund’s gaze shot back up to his friend. “What sort of question is that? You ought to be reprimanding me, telling me what a reckless rogue I have been, scolding me for almost making a terrible mistake, insisting I keep my distance from her from now on.”
“It would only have been a mistake if she had not reciprocated the… affection,” Lionel said, as casual as if he were telling Edmund about the kind of eggs available for breakfast.
Edmund leaned in, his voice low. “It is a mistake for any unwed gentleman to kiss an unwed lady, but it is doubly so for me.” He lowered his voice further, just in case there was anyone listening in. “She is Lady Isolde. She is my dearest friend’s sister. She is the… crowning hope for my dearest friend’s family, and I nearly thwarted that. We were right by the windows, for pity’s sake—anyone could have seen!”
