And Isabella did tell them, bits and pieces because these were her mother’s friends. Her friends, and because sometimes a lady needed a little advice from those older and wiser. “I’m afraid I do not know how to proceed from here. He seems earnest. And I’m aware it will not be easy. He’s right that there are those who will turn their noses up at him. I do not care about that.”
“You do not have to care about it,” Lady Macintosh said. “Perhaps you cannot see it as a true hurdle because it has never been a hurdle for you.”
Lady Templeton tapped her chin gently with her folded fan. “If he seems willing to jump that hurdle, dear one, you should let him try. There he is, after all, huddled together with a duke and that duke’s assorted friends. He spent a quarter hour talking amiably with two ladies like us. And he’s followed you about all day. He’s making an effort. Perhaps you can, too.”
“That does not mean it will work out,” Lady Macintosh said. “But falling in love is the easy part. Living in love takes much hard work. Him to overcome his fears and deal with whatever rejection he might face. And you to empathize with those fears and love him through them.”
A wind ruffled Isabella’s skirts, and she shivered.
Lady Macintosh patted her shoulder as she moved toward the house, and Lady Templeton kissed her cheek. “Your beau is returning, so we will make ourselves scarce. You will be fine, and the world will be sunny again. Do not doubt it.”
As they walked arm in arm toward the house, Rowan approached, his hair mussed by the wind and his hands in his pockets.
“Is my brother done with you, then?” Isabella asked.
He whipped a shawl—her shawl, off his shoulder and settled it around her. “You shivered.”
“Thank you.” She huddled into the muslin and inhaled. It smelled like him, still carried his warmth. “What did Tristan and my brother want?”
“To remind me that I should be direct. About my intentions toward you. That was your brother. And to remind me that ladies like flowers, and I should steal a few from the baron’s garden. That was Noble. Kingston suggested I keep a bit of distance from you, give you time to miss me.”
“This sounds terribly familiar. Don’t tell me you’re taking advice from Samuel’s—”
“Guide to Courtship. Yes.”
“It is a terrible idea. Thatguidehas caused no end of trouble.”
“I think it has its merits. And they assure me it’s been entirely revised to take the feminine perspective into account. There is, however, one point they cannot agree on.”
“And what is that?”
“It’s quite controversial. Your brother is against it, and your sisters’ husbands consider it entirely necessary, though when to implement remains unsettled. I am not at all sure how to proceed.”
“Proceed with what?” She was almost dancing with impatience.
“A kiss.”
Her dancing feet froze.
“Do you have any thoughts on the matter?” he asked. “Any points or assertions I should consider before deciding?”
“I-I”—she cleared her throat—“I do not think one way or another about it.” His lips were so fine, so well shaped.
“You should look me in the eye when speaking, Lady Isabella.”
Damn. Caught.
“You know.” He stepped closer, and the tips of their toes almost touched. Too close with guests milling around them and the sun illuminating every breath they took, every inhalation that swayed them closer to one another. “I think I’ve decided. The best course ofaction”—he licked his lips and leaned closer—“is to leave youunkissed.” He popped upright and took a large step backward.
She tried to press her heart back behind her ribcage. It thumped loudly, demandingly in her ears.
He turned on a toe but considered her over his broad, well-muscled shoulder. “For now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In the span of two hours Rowan had been ignored, sneered at, and every inch of him inspected for fault. He’d known thetonwould not welcome a sailor’s son, a man of business, with open arms. He’d been right. In the almost fortnight since the garden party, he’d been branded an interloper, and many did their best to remind him of that.
But for every cut direct, there was a dance, and for every sneer, a smile, so if others judged him, Isabella admired him. He’d not known Isabella’s love would be protection enough against theton’sbarbs, but he should have. He’d been wrong to fear, wrong to push her away, and God he hoped she could forgive him.
