“But it would! There is a position in need at the stables. I heard it discussed just yesterday. Duke could have his stall, and you the room beside our groom in the upstairs of the stables—”
“I am sorry. It would not work.” Gripping the leather reins, William sidestepped her and took a few steps, but she moved to block his way yet again.
“Mr. Kensley.”
That was no longer his name, but he had no other, so he said nothing.
“Mr. Kensley … if I were to ask but one reward for the service I did you when you were injured, would you grant it to me?”
He wanted to move her aside. Climb atop Duke. Gallop away from this place and never look back.
But something in her eyes, in the pooling tears, the pleading stare, kept him planted. “Name your reward.”
“For you to stay.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.” She glanced down, then over, then back to his face with a sincere flush. “I just cannot bear to see you go. Not this way. Will you stay?”
“If your father—”
“Father shall consent to anything I ask of him. Will you?”
Despite the tightness in his chest, a laugh leaked out. He shook his head at her shivers. “If you run back indoors and plant yourself before a hearth, then yes.” He winked toward Duke. “After I consult my horse, of course.”
“Where are you going?” Isabella leaned in the open doorway of Father’s chamber, the hearth flames rippling light and shadow across the warm room.
Felix, the valet, folded another pair of pantaloons and lowered them into a trunk, while Father dropped his tooth powder and hair wax into a valise. “An important political rally is to be held in Cheltenham next month, and Mr. Perronet has so kindly written me to come and attend.”
“That letter has sat unanswered on your desk for a fortnight.”
“Where is the other stocking?” Father tossed one across the bed, grumbling.
Isabella spotted the missing one on the floor behind him, swooped in to retrieve it, and handed it to him. “Father.”
Still, he kept his hands busy—and his eyes. They looked everywhere, checking everything, without alighting on her face. “Yes, well, I was simply delayed in my response. I owe it to Mr. Perronet to attend. Good man, that fellow. Besides, Mrs. Hannah More shall be speaking.”
“You read as little of her lectures as I do.”
“Never mind that. I should still like to meet her, you know—”
“Father.” This time with force. She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers, a dull frustration tightening within. “Just because I bade Mr.
Kensley to stay does not mean you cannot.”
“Kensley.” The name came out too soft. As if the sound were a torture, an aching wound, yet something that used to be beautiful to him. Had Father loved her? This woman who had birthed his firstborn?
Mother’s words echoed. The pleading. The longing for what she could not have and must die without. In all the years she’d been hoping for Father’s love, had it been futile because he’d already given his heart to another?
That thought lined her stomach with sickness. She released his hand. “I suppose if running away shall make this easier, then you must go at once.”
“If you think I would leave my own house on account of that … that …”
“He did not have to return and tell us, you know.”
“Indeed. And he did not have to come and find us in the first place either, but he did.”
“Could anyone be kept away from such a curiosity?”
