Isobel made a noise that might have been a cough. He didn’t look at her. Doing his best to ignore his reddening face, Leo bowed to the ladies and took his leave.
***
Izzy was furious, furious with herself for giving in and making love with him. Furious about what he’d said to her, and with the way she’d handled his proposal. Where had her common sense gone? Jeopardizing her future like that, without a thought.
One kiss and all her resolutions had washed down the drain.
He won’t want you if he knows.
He was probably right. She brought enough disadvantages to any potential marriage as it was.
She’d been foolhardy and reckless, giving in to the impulse of a moment.
No, not a momentary impulse. Hadn’t she dreamed of being in his arms, night after night? And so when the moment had come, she’d seized it.
And no matter how much she might berate herself, deep down in her secret heart, she couldn’t truly make herself regret it.
Oh, she might regret the consequences, the ruin of her prospects. And what if she found herself with child... his child. She touched her belly and was shocked to find herselffeeling a little wistful. Lord, but she was more like Mama than she thought. She’d even be happy to bear his child, though not to live as she and Mama had, never like that.
But then, what he’d said to her this morning. The way he’d said it. As if proposing to her had all the appeal of swallowing a frog. Oh yes, she was furious about that.
She paced back and forth, tense as a coiled spring.
Clarissa laid a hand on her arm. “What on earth did Lord Salcott say to you to get you into this state?” she asked softly.
Izzy glanced at Mrs. Price-Jones, who was giving instructions to Treadwell about something. “Not here. I need... I need a ride, ’Riss. Will you join me?”
Clarissa gave her a troubled look. “Of course. I’ll send a note to Lady Tarrant, sending our apologies for luncheon. She won’t mind. It was a casual arrangement.”
***
Oh, that’s better,” Izzy exclaimed as her horse drew up at the big oak that marked the finish of their impromptu race. They’d gone riding on the heath, just the two of them and the groom in attendance, who hung back a short distance, giving them all the privacy they wanted. The vigorous exercise in the fresh air had done her a power of good. “Like old times, eh, ’Riss?”
Clarissa laughed. “Yes, such fun. I’ve been missing our rides.” Mrs. Price-Jones didn’t ride, so most of their activities involved either walking or rides in the carriage. “Now, tell me what Lord Salcott did to put you in such a temper.”
“Temper? I wasn’t in a temper.”
“No?” Her sister gave her a quizzical look.
“It’s just that he’s a big, thickheaded, honorable, blind, oblivious idiot.”
Clarissa laughed and clapped her hands. “I knew it! You’re in love with him.”
Izzy stared at her. “Inlove? With that great, gormless, infuriating, boneheaded—”
“Definitely in love,” Clarissa said.
“I am not.”
Clarissa just looked at her. Izzy resisted for a moment, then sighed, deflated. “I did something very stupid the other night, after the Gainsborough ball.”
“What?”
“I met Lord Salcott in the summerhouse.”
Clarissa frowned. “After we got home, you mean? You went out there in the middle of the night? Again?”
Izzy nodded. “He said he wanted to talk to me in private—well, you know how Mrs. Price-Jones has been heading him off every time he tried to speak to me.”
