“Oh?”
Vincent chewed his lower lip in thought. “I have never known you to do anything that could be considered dishonorable or impulsive. You are an abider of the rules, and a gentleman whotakes pride in being an upstanding member of society.” He met Edmund’s eyes. “So, I had to ask myself—why would you kiss my sister? More to the point, why would you kiss Isolde while tasked with guarding her, when you always put duty above everything else?”
Because I love her, you dolt. I love her, but even if I were to propose marriage now with a confession of my affection, she would not have me,Edmund wanted to admit, clamping his lips together to prevent the truth from escaping.
“Then, I remembered,” Vincent continued. “It was such a small memory: we were having tea in the orangery at Grayling House, and the cook had made scones because I told her they were your favorite. I offered you one and you refused. I must have offered six times, feeling rather dismayed that I had gone to the trouble, and you did not want them. Do you recall what you said when I asked why you did not want one?”
Edmund shook his head slowly, for he could not remember the moment at all.
“You said, “Idowant one, but I do not deserve one.” You would do the same thing here and there, so discreetly that it has taken me this long to realize that there was a deeper meaning in your refusals,” Vincent said more gently, his eyes swimming with sadness. “You were denying yourself happiness, and you are still doing it.”
Edmund stared at his friend, unblinking, feeling as if Vincent had taken a hammer and chisel and cracked him wide open. Hehad avoided putting a name to the reason he denied himself, but he knew when he was doing it, and he knew why he was doing it: if there were things that might please him that his family could not enjoy, then he would not partake.
That was his punishment for being alive when they were not.
“But denying yourself happiness will not bring them back,” Vincent said. “You are only hurting yourself… and my sister.”
Edmund swallowed thickly. “It was never my intention.”
“I know.” Vincent sighed. “I did not want to admit it, at first, but… I am ever more certain that Isolde is in love with you, just as I am ever more certain that you feel more for her than you would dare to say.Thatis why you kissed her—because you feel something for her, but then you felt happiness, and you pulled away to punish yourself.”
Edmund did not need to say anything; the truth of the matter was probably written all over his face. It sounded silly when it was explained out loud, but grief and loss did strange things to people, and what might have seemed stupid to some was a crutch to others.
“She is not herself, Edmund.” Vincent’s face twisted into an expression of pain. “She is quiet, she is withdrawn, she has not bothered to involve herself in any of the wedding arrangements. All she does is sit in her bedchamber, and whenever I go to check on her, she is holding a mask in her hands. She used to try and hide it, but she does not anymore. I am worried that she willlose herself entirely if she proceeds with this wedding, when it is quite evidently not what she wants.”
Edmund sat rod-straight, a shiver running up and down his spine. “Did you say she has been holding a mask?”
“It is the one you were wearing at her debut ball, if I am not mistaken,” Vincent replied.
A sudden, shocking thought ricocheted through Edmund’s skull. “Vincent, was Isolde in the gardens at any point during that masquerade ball?”
“Indeed. She ventured into the gardens with an irksome little man. The Marquess of Fenton, if memory serves. My mother was supposed to be chaperoning her, but she got distracted by some friends, which left Isolde alone with that man for a time. I do not know exactly what happened, but I know that Isolde was rather distressed afterward—it is why I asked you to watch over her when I was called away to Bath, to avoid such a thing happening again.”
The Sun Room became a touch brighter, as if Edmund had been looking at everything through a dark lens that had just been removed. He had not forgotten that night, nor the woman he had saved from Colin, the Marquess of Fenton. He had often wondered how she was faring, unaware that she was the very woman that he was destined to fall for.
It was you. I knew you were familiar. I knew… it was you.
He had not been able to explain it at the time, but had it been any other lady, he would not have dared to be so bold. He would not have pulled her to him or said the possessive things he had said, to scare Colin away. In truth, he had shocked himself with his behavior that night, and now he understood why—somehow, deep down, he had known it was Isolde.
“Have the second banns been announced?” Edmund said abruptly. “When is the wedding?”
He had made his vow to never marry at a time when the depth of his grief had been all-consuming. He had made it to make himself feel better, when nothing else could. ButIsoldemade him feel better. She made him feel more alive than he had done in an age, she made him feel hopeful, she made him feel… joyful and capable of love.
If he allowed his guilt to condemn her to an unhappy marriage and an unfulfilled life, then he would only end up carrying more guilt on his shoulders.
Vincent smirked. “I delayed the second announcement. The wedding, however,isset for a fortnight hence.” He leaned forward. “But I happen to know that she will be at Madame Versailles’ shop tomorrow, to look at fabric for her wedding gown. A private appointment, arranged by me, that I will ensure she attends. Alone.”
“How… could you be so sure of me?” Edmund asked, his heart thundering in his chest, his feet itching to rush out to his carriage to make his way to London immediately.
Vincent shrugged. “I have known you for half of my life, Edmund. As I said, I know you would not have betrayed my trust for no good reason. You are not a rake, my friend—you are not even close to being one. As such, I was left with only one explanation: you fell in love with her. If I did not do something to see you both happy, what sort of friend and brother would I be?”
“Thank you,” Edmund rasped, jumping up. “I will not disappoint you, Vincent.”
Vincent stood with him. “I have every faith that you will not.” He paused, smiling. “But Iwillbe sending Isolde to the shop with a chaperone, just in case. We cannot have a scandal before you two find your joy together.”
“A broken betrothal is not a scandal?” Edmund pointed out, aware that it was his fault. If he had proposed with his heart instead of cold logic, Isolde might never have accepted Noah at all.
Vincent shrugged. “Society will forget quickly enough, as long as the wedding follows swiftly. Indeed, there is nothing theTonrelishes more than a love story.” He began to walk to the door. “Of course, we are ignoring one important detail.”
