Chapter 6

AFEW HOURS LATER, the guests that had arrived were all out on a nature walk. But it didn't matter how much Hope tried to smile, or not smile too obviously, her mother immediately noticed that she was out of sorts. Perhaps the moment that gave it away was when Mavis (not so subtly) suggested that Hope and Isaac walk together, and Hope had glared at her. Since Hope was not the glaring type, her mother casually arranged new couples, claiming she needed a quick word with her daughter.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

The mother-daughter pair were walking just out of earshot of the group. Talking none too quietly, Isaac and his sister were ahead of the amblers, including Michael who walked in silence.

"Nothing happened."

"Hope, my dear. I know you might not believe it, but as your mother, I can discern when something is in fact nothing."

It was probably true, though Hope hesitated to admit it in this case. What could she say? I slammed my naked body into Isaac's, so he gave me my first kiss, and now I never want to seek another man's lips. Then he found out my deep, dark secret and wants to protect me at all costs.

There was no universe in which she would utter those words to her mother.

"Isaac and I spoke."

"Oh?"

"And…he happened to see the latest threat I received."

"Oh dear. Another one came? We haven't seen one in a while." Mavis tugged her daughter in close and kissed her temple. "Maybe it's best he knows. He's a protector if I've ever known one."

"Yes. That may be true."

Her mother pulled them to a stop. "Hope, is there something else?" Maternal eyes drew a need to be known out of her.

She whispered, "He kissed me." And even though she couldn't quite bring herself to look at her mother, she thought she detected a hint of a smile.

"Well…that was probably bound to happen." Mavis' arm tightened around her. "Did you…um…was it…enjoyable?"

Hope's face was surely turning all shades of red, but her mother always had her best in mind. Though she couldn't confirm it verbally, she nodded.

"Maybe he will be the one—"

"He's not for me, Mama."

"Why would you say that?"

"He's a rake. The worst kind—"

"Not the worst kind. Trust me, my dear. There are plenty worse than Isaac."

"Perhaps. But he's proud and independent. He would never let me take care of him. He has told me about his uncle. His uncle practically raised him, what with Isaac's father being so sick all the time. Both men, under the close care of others, wasted away. Unfortunately the uncle took as much money with him as he could. Isaac resents that kind of behavior."

"You are nurturing, Hope. That's one of the most beautiful parts of you."

She smiled warmly at her mother. "Thank you."

"If he loves you, he'll let you in."

They resumed walking but remained silent as each observed the snowless winter scene around them.

"He said he'd grow a beard." Hope chuckled, offering the tidbit to lighten the mood.

"Oh?"

"To make it more comfortable for the house party."

"How's that?" Mavis inquired.

"If he grows a beard, he said I wouldn't recognize him. So it would be as if he weren't even here."

"What an amusing idea." Mavis pulled her arm through Hope's. "He always knows how to make you laugh."

"Yes." He could always make her laugh. It was much more frightening to consider the idea that he might be the one to make her love.

They had drawn close to the group now, and she looked up at him. Tall. Strong. Cutting a fine figure in his jacket and cravat. His legs filled out his breeches, straining at the seams. Hope recalled the feel of those thighs against her own skin. He was everything she could want, but nothing that made sense for her to have.

She watched as Astrid was swatting his arm, and she overheard Isaac jest with Michael. "You want her?"

Michael shook his head, and Hope thought she heard him reply, "She's all yours."

At that, Astrid grabbed her brother's hat and took off into the woods. Not missing a beat, he chased after his sister.

"Astrid Alexandra, get back here right now," he shouted playfully.

It looked as though she was getting away with it. For how long, Hope wasn't sure. Isaac would clearly beat her in a footrace.

And at that moment, Hope wanted in on the diversion.

Mavis must have read the change in her daughter's body, for she urged her, "Go on."

And Hope raced past the group to catch up with the two in the woods.

They must have been quicker than she thought, as no one was in sight when she crossed into the trees. Veering sharply to the right, she skipped on until she heard a quiet murmuring.

"He loves me. He loves me not." It was Astrid's voice. Hope spied her wearing her brother's hat, plucking the petals off a wild daisy.

"Drat. He loved me not. He'll pay for that. I suppose he already has." She giggled to herself.

"Who?" Hope couldn't stifle the question, and Astrid whirled to face her.

"Oh, no one." She threw the stem to the ground.

"Astrid," Hope taunted, "do you have a beau?"

"In fact, I do not. But not for lack of trying." She dropped her head back to absorb what little sunlight was gleaming through the branches overhead. "Men. Does not every last one of them vex us, yet we desire them all the same. Pfft! More so. The more they vex us, the more we desire them."

Truth.

"Ah yes, I'm sure that can happen."

"Can? Does. Will. Every time. Wait until it happens to you."

Dash it all, Hope was pretty sure it was happening to her.

A rustle in the trees stole their attention.

"Astrid Alexandra," Isaac let the names roll off of his lips.

"I hate it when he uses both of my names like that. As if I'm a child," Astrid whispered, aside to Hope. "Only older brothers, am I right?"

A smirk tangled across Hope's lips. "You are definitely right."

Then realizing what she had said, Astrid giggled. "You would know best."

"What are you two giggling about?" Isaac demanded archly.

"Nothing," they said in unison.

"Women," he muttered, "vexatious creatures." As he marched toward them, he snatched his hat back. Isaac glanced at the petals on the ground. "Who is it this time? The footman. It can't be Evan anymore. He's married." Isaac narrowed his eyes at Astrid. She glared right back at him, a slight twinge at the corner of her mouth belied her disappointment.

"Evan?" Hope asked.

The question opened Isaac's eyes to his slip. "It was nothing. Just a little crush." He tried to wave it off, but the death glare in Astrid's eyes would not permit it.

"It was not a little crush," she mumbled. "But you're right. It was nothing." She stomped lightly on the petals in front of her. Her face brightened, though not quite to her eyes. "He has a lovely wife. Felicity? She's a writer, no?"

"How do you know that?"

"I thought everyone knew that?"

Hope pondered the question, unsure of who knew of Felicity's affinity for the written word. Surely, no one knew of Felicity's submissions to the scandal sheets. She had been the one unnecessary warning women of Evan's rakish ways. All because of a Lady X…and an anonymous note that she had given to Felicity. Thankfully, Evan was able to look past that and all was forgiven. Felicity had confided everything in Hope, eventually. Now the unpredictable couple was happily married and on their honeymoon. No thanks to Lady X. She had not surfaced again, and it was a mystery that had hitherto gone unsolved.

If it had continued, Hope would be inclined to reach out to a sleuthing agency with the expectation that they would uncover Lady X's identity.

"I don't think everyone knows about it." She finally responded to Alex—Astrid's question. Funny that she should think to call Astrid by her middle name after only hearing it twice.

"Well, I must have heard it somewhere because I know about it."

The logic was circular, but Hope wasn't about to argue the point.

"You got your hat back, brother, so I'm going to walk back to the house now. Everyone is probably returning by this time anyway," Astrid said, standing and straightening her skirts.

"Leave the footmen alone, Astrid."

Her response consisted of sticking her tongue out at her brother. "If I can't have my love, I'll find a suitable replacement."

"That's not fair to either of you," Isaac chided.

Astrid gave a huff, glanced at Hope, then back at Isaac. "You are the biggest hypocrite."

"What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Why did you bring it up then?" Isaac was scowling at his sister.

Astrid strode over to him and lowered her voice, but Hope could still make out what she said.

"Ask yourself why you only ever have a blonde on your arm."

Isaac scoffed, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sometimes the little sister knows best."

Then Isaac's sister winked at her and left the two of them in the small clearing.

"I think I'll go for a small walk. The fresh air always clears my mind," Hope said.

"Oh, no you don't." He caught her by the wrist. "You're not going anywhere alone. Not after that note I read."

When she cast a glance at him, he looked more stern than his devil-may-care mien usually portrayed.

"Pfft. Isaac, you're being ridiculous. I receive those notes all the time." Perhaps that was overstating it a little bit. "It means nothing. No one would have the audacity to venture onto our private property and do me any harm."

"I don't care. You're not going alone."

"Isaac, you don't get to tell me what to do. You're not my brother." Never had she meant those words more than now. He was nothing like a brother to her. "And you're not my husband."

With a grunt, he replied begrudgingly, "If everyone has returned home, I'll go for a walk with you." And then, as if to emphasize his perceived authority, he added, "You're not going alone."

His hand was still circling her wrist. And…was that his thumb swaying back and forth over her skin?

"So what do you say about the beard?"

"It's your face. Do what you want." She must have frowned because he pried into her response.

"It might be my face, but your face is telling me you wouldn't like it."

Why should he care what her face liked or not? She shrugged it off.

"I don't particularly like beards."

His silence spoke of his disbelief. And…his eyes. They were practically burrowing holes in her.

Planning to wait him out, she was finally rewarded. "I don't much like beards either, you know?"

"Why?"

"My uncle had a beard."

"The one who…?" She didn't know the full story, only that he was a lazy wastrel of a man.

"Ya. The one who made his wife dote on him hand and foot right until the end. When my father was the one who was chronically sick with complications from cholera and needed the attention. My uncle and his family lived with us. He was supposed to be the one taking care of us. Instead, he took all he could for himself, before and after my father passed away." Isaac scrubbed his face. "My uncle. The bastard. The one who couldn't raise a hand for himself, or for anyone, except to strike his own son. I did what I could to protect my cousin. Hid him in my wardrobe when I could. Finally, when I was old enough—big enough—to step in, I did." Isaac's eyes grew dark. "My uncle manipulated everyone around him to do his bidding. Couldn't do a damn thing for himself." He gripped his hair, and his eyes cleared.

Hope tried to add levity to the situation. "So you can relate. Neither one of us likes beards."

"There's more to it for you." He stated, waiting.

She wanted to wait him out again, but if he was willing to open up then maybe she could, too. Her heart was in her throat, and her palms were sweaty. If she just told him…

And then words that she had never shared with anyone outside of her family spilled out of her. "I was almost abducted when I was a child. The man had a beard. My brothers saw it and grabbed me. That's all."

Isaac stood looking dumbfounded.

"It's not a big deal. Nothing happened." Hope reassured him.

"You keep saying things aren't a big deal, Hope. But they are."

She could feel tears stinging her eyes, and she couldn't say anything new. "It's not a big deal."

He wrapped her in a hug. His arms were so strong. The warmth tugged at her soul. His chin rested atop her head. Lips grazed her hair. She wanted to be close to him. He could be her protector. She could let him…As a friend, she reminded herself. She sniffed. Friendship was all that they could have. Reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace.

Gone was the sternness. Gone was the tenderness. And its place was Mr. Cavalier. They knew each other well enough to tacitly agree upon moving on.

"You must be in your element today. I'm glad to see it," he said. No more solemnity marring his handsome face.

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you're hosting guests, which you love to do. And you're wearing your favorite dress, aren't you?"

She looked down at her blue frock, unnerved that his words meant so much to her. They were such surface level observations. Anybody would know those simple facts about her, wouldn't they? Favorite activity…favorite color…

She yanked her hand free of his grasp, unaware of when he had reached for it. Immediately, she felt bereft of the warmth and tenderness that had emanated from his fingers. "Yes. You're right." The words were harder to say than she wanted to admit.

She jutted out her chin and said, "Fine. Walk with me. If you can keep up."

That made him chuckle. "As I recall, I was the winner of the potato sack race last summer, was I not?"

"I couldn't say I remember that specific event."

Lies. She remembered all the time she had spent with Isaac. And for some reason, each of those memories had been flung into her mind with resounding vibrance and laughter.

No matter.

Nope.

Those memories didn't matter at all. Especially not a most recent one of their bodies smacking together. And certainly not the one of his tender kiss into her hair. That memory mattered least of all.