“Yes.” She did not need to think to answer. She’d been courtingthose shadows for quite some time. They offered more than light did. “As long as I have my family.”
“Then I see no reason you should not at least try doing the difficult thing. I cannot speak for Rowan, what he is willing to do for a woman, but I can speak to his ability. And he is capable of anything he sets his mind to. As are you.” Something ominous in her voice. “Tell me, do you think Rowan returns your deep affection?”
“He has not said the words.” She sniffled and pillaged her pocket for a handkerchief. “But I think he might.” Why else all that softness this morning? Why else last night?
“I am of the same mind.”
“You kept demanding that it, we, be over. In Rowan’s sitting room.”
Mrs. Garrison blinked, her eyebrows inching together before popping apart. “Oh yes. The pretend part is questionable. That must be forgotten and replaced withreal.”
“I understand.” A renewed vigor and energy coursed through Isabella now that Mrs. Garrison's voice was no longer soft but had that marching tone it got when she gave orders. “I’m rather shocked as well. I thought I was the one hiding my identity. I had no idea he’d be other than what he is.”
“And what do you think that is?” Mrs. Garrison asked, her voice quiet, harboring a sliver of sharpness.
“A stubborn, capable, intelligent, compassionate man. He’s ambitious and too hard on himself… knowing you helped raise him does not change any of that, does it. It is no surprise you would produce such a man, after all.”
Mrs. Garrison sniffed. “You will not make an old lady cry. You’ve used up all the tears between us. If you can see all that, then surely he can see you are the same as he knows you to be, duke’s sister or no.” Mrs. Garrison kissed Isabella's cheek. “I will be overjoyed to have you as a daughter.”
“I do not think Rowan is overjoyed. I have begun to read his moods well, and he seemed… cold?” Quite disappointing since warm Rowan, hot Rowan, burn-her-at-a-glance Rowan, had quite begun to entice her. “Perhaps if he’d discovered my identity from me and not from you.”
“You should have told him earlier.”
“I was trying to keep Samuel safe. Too much is already at risk.”
“Hmm. Yes, Lady Templeton told me about the letter. The late Mrs. Haws used to be Miss Leigh, a poor viscount’s daughter without much beauty to her credit. To the unkind eye, at least. Many do not know how to look hard or long enough at a woman to find true beauty. She debuted with us. Kept to the fringes of theton, and when she could not marry a rich, titled man, her father married her to a rich mill owner. She remained in touch with us for some years after her marriage. But we no longer ran in the same circles, and the association came to a natural end. But before that… yes, she was one of your mother’s original borrowers. I am not surprised at the existence of the letter, though I am surprised she allowed such a damning letter to outlive her. I had no idea Mr. Haws was renting rooms at the Hestia. Can’t Rowan dig up the letter for you?”
“How can he? Rummage through his guest’s possessions? Demand it outright?”
“Yes, yes. Mr. Haws will yell loud and long about it to everyone within earshot. No one wants to stay where their things might be stolen, or where the owner might demand their possessions without clear explanation.”
“He promised to help me find another way to get it, though. Do you think he can?”
“I have no doubt. My worry is that once it’s done, he’ll use it as an excuse to send you packing.
“Yes.” Isabella could certainly see that happening.
“You must not give up. No surrender for a Merriweather lady! Sit tall and lead the attack.”
Isabella sat tall. “I will.”
“That’s the spirit. You have proven that my son’s heart can be reached. And so, we must do everything we can to keep him from building a wall against you. If”—her eyes softened—“it is truly what you desire.”
“It is.”
“Then it will work out. Rowan will listen to his heart, and perhapsMiss Haws is a delightful woman whom your brother will fall madly in love with.”
Isabella wrinkled her nose. “She’s… perfectly nice, but she is not for Samuel. He needs a woman with a backbone who will tell him he’s being silly when he decides to write guides to courtship.”
“Heavens.” Mrs. Garrison laughed. “A truth there, my dear, bullseye of a truth. Everything will work itself out. Never doubt. Not when you have me and the other library ladies at your disposal.”
Isabella smiled and let herself be pulled into a hug, and even though the sun slanted bright and hot through the carriage windows, glowing in a cloudless, blue sky, her heart fell, silent and aching.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning dawned without any whistling at all. Rowan quite seemed to have lost the ability. He had slept little last night, had been sitting blank-eyed in his study chair since the clock in the hall had chimed three times. How could he sleep after his aunt and uncle had summoned him to their house and lectured him on proper gentlemanly behavior? It stung. To have acted badly. To have disappointed them.
But how could he act like a gentleman when he wasn’t one?
