The men regarded him coolly while pretending not to regard him at all. Noble had his arm draped over the back of his chair as he looked out over the crowd. Bailey and Kingston traded some comments about their work. Liam realized he had finished his brew and called out for more.
Only Clearford watched him with unwavering intensity.
And only Rowan could change his future by stepping out of his scar-shaped past and into the future. Where Isabella waited patiently with a tear-streaked face.
Probably a romanticization, that. More likely, she waited not at all patiently with anger turning her tiny fists into mighty weapons.
But perhaps, most importantly, she did wait. For Rowan to realize what a nodcock he’d been. Hadn’t she told him her brother didn’t care? Hadn’t she told him she had three rather unconventional brothers-in-law? Men who did as they pleased and loved their wives the way Rowan loved Isabella. Men who admired strength and loyalty and protected those weaker than themselves. None of these men would have been in the circle at Rugby, cheering as another boy slashed through Rowan’s skin.
Rowan straightened and rested his forearms on the beaten table. “Your sister deserves the very best of men.”
“Glad you recognize that,” Clearford said.
“But I want her to love me anyway.”
“I understand that well,” Noble muttered.
Rowan ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face forthe first time in days. “She deserves to be adored and courted in front of everyone, so everyone knows how perfect she is. But I… I have very little idea of how to court a lady.”
“Well then”—Bailey slapped Rowan on the back, the entire table suddenly paying attention once more—“you’re in luck. Because the duke here just happens to be an expert.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The first hint Isabella had that Rowan was nearby was a sneeze. A rather loud one in the vicinity of her brother, who stood behind them, between the house and the small pond that was more of a picturesque puddle in a vast field of flower-dotted green.
“Imogen,” Isabella said, folding her hands in her lap. “Look behind you, but do not be obvious. Is Rowan there?”
Imogen rotated her entire body and raised her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. “Yes, he is.”
Isabella hauled her back around, her shawl sliding off one shoulder. “I do not think you could have beenmoreobvious.”
From Imogen’s other side, Thurston said, “Yes, she could. I’m certain of it.” He leaned backward, his hands pressing into the blanket spread over the grass beneath them and his feet hanging off the other end.
“There’s no use in hiding it,” Imogen said. “He’s looking at us. I predict it’s not more than thirty seconds before he starts this way.”
“What is he doing here?” Isabella itched to look. She’d kept herself from visiting the Hestia all week to find out what she could about him—where he’d been, who he’d talked to, how sad or happy he’d seemed. She was trying to break her habit, to live in peace with the unknown.But when he was just there at her back… She fairlyvibrated, the need to twist around a primal urge. But she pulled her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, clutching the ends, holding herself prisoner against her own desires. “This is your party. He was not invited. Was he invited? Surely you would have told me. Why would you have invited him?” She snapped her teeth together.Embrace. The. Unknown.
Imogen suppressed a laugh. “Prudence says Samuel asked to add someone to the guest list.”
“It would have been nice of her to ask permission,” Isabella grumbled.
Imogen tilted her head to the side. “Why would you give permission? It’s notyourparty. As you’ve already so accurately pointed out—it’s mine.”
“And mine.” Thurston waggled his feet. “Who knew Baron Brightly possessed such lovely grounds, and so close to the city. Good place to convalesce after a bit of carousing.” He tilted his head toward Imogen. “Isn’t that right, Im?”
“I’m afraid I know little about carousing. I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Thurston returned to studying the lake and wiggling his feet.
“It was kind of him to let Prudence host this garden party. I’m enjoying it better than I expected to. I suppose being outside makes the crowd more palatable.”
All palatable but for Rowan.
Whom she felt before she heard. Knew the footsteps behind her were his, knew the shape of his legs as he stopped just beside her.
“Lady Isabella, may I sit here?”
“No.”
