She did not dare to look in the direction of either of her sisters, for Teresa would wonder why she was correcting Edmund so fervently, and Prudence would instantly pick up on the slight disparity in the story. With any luck, however, the girls’ mother would not notice at all.
Edmund raised an eyebrow but gave a nod of assent. “Exactly, that is what I meant. I was given an important duty by Vincent, but that does not supersede the duties of a gentleman. So, with regret, I will be at my own residence from now on.” He began towalk to the door. “Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner. I have my own waiting for me.”
As he left, Isolde’s mother started to protest, rising from her seat as she called out for him to stay and join them. And, to her surprise, Isolde found that she was also rising to her feet, seeing an opportunity fading away with each of Edmund’s retreating steps.
“I shall remedy this,” Isolde said, hurrying out to catch Edmund before he left.
After all, she had a feeling that this was all her fault.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Edmund was already partway down the porch steps, the housekeeper in the midst of closing the door after him, when Isolde slipped out. She did not know what was possessing her, but she could not stop herself from reaching out, grabbing him by the wrist to turn him around.
A look of astonishment graced his face as he stared at her, though even from the lower step, he was still taller than her.
“What are you doing?” he rasped, shaking his head as if to dislodge something. “You should return inside at once! It is unseemly for a lady to chase gentlemen out of a house, and more improper still for a lady to… grasp at a gentleman who is not family or a husband.”
Nevertheless, he made no attempt to remove her hand from his wrist, just as she did not take her hand away. And as she looked into his eyes, she saw that odd fire still burning in the depths ofthose intense sapphires. She could not decide if it was a glow of hatred or hunger or something she had no name for.
Isolde straightened her posture, swallowing past the thickness in her throat. “I will go inside when you tell me why you have been avoiding this house for three days. I have missed two dinner parties, an afternoon recital, a poetry reading, and a luncheon because of you. Did you forget that I cannot attend anywhere without an escort, or did you stay away so I couldnotgo anywhere?”
“Last I heard, your mother still has legs,” Edmund bit back, his entire demeanor more… unraveled than usual.
He did not look like he had slept much, there was a rather appealing shadow of stubble across his jaw that immediately conjured an image in Isolde’s mind of him wandering windswept hills; his hair was tousled and wild as if he had been running his hands through it often, and his cravat and collar were loose around his neck, revealing a hint of his collarbone that should probablynothave been visible.
“Yes, well, my mother had prior engagements,” Isolde replied, disarmed by his unexpected ruggedness.
Edmund shrugged. “From what you have said, it rather sounds like I saved you from at least four instances of utter tedium. Now, please, return inside.”
“Why have you been avoiding me?” she insisted, her heart beating uneasily in her chest.
He glanced back over his shoulder, bristling with a similar unease, before he returned his gaze to her. When he did, she noticed a subtle flinch of his eyes and mouth, as if she had caused him pain. But she had not gripped his wrist any tighter, nor could she think of any other injury she might have inflicted.
“As I mentioned, I have been busy,” he said flatly.
“With what?”
“With estate matters,” he replied.
“Then, why have you not gone to your estate?”
He expelled a great sigh. “Because I made a promise to your brother, and it is better for me to be nearby to undertake that duty, where I can also attend to my estate business.”
Gently, he prized her fingers from his wrist, but rather than let go immediately, he hesitated, holding her hand for a moment. His palm was rough and warm against hers, for she never wore gloves when she dined at home and had quite forgotten that she was without them when she had reached for him.
All at once, she was reminded of the garden party, and how he had come running to her side; the look of stricken concern on his face as he had checked her for injury, touching her stomach though many would have deemedthatimproper. Yet, in that instant, he had cared more about her than he had about society opinion.
It was the same in the drawing room. I felt it. You did not care about society opinion then either.
As if he could tell what she was picturing in her mind, he dropped her hand as if it were ablaze. “Go inside,” he growled. “I will not have you undo your own reputation because you refuse to listen to me.”
“Undo my own reputation?” she said, breathless. “And what of you undoing it with your… dance lessons?”
She could not bring herself to speak aloud the truth of it—that he had almost kissed her, and she had almost kissed him back. But he was no fool; there was no possible way he would not understand what occasion she was referring to.
He rose up until he was perilously close to her, stealing the last of the air out of her lungs as he leaned in and whispered, “Goodnight, Isolde.”
Whirling around, he marched on down the steps and into the night, leaving Isolde with shaky legs and a racing heart as he blended seamlessly into shadow… rather like someone else who had made her feel that way, not so long ago.
