Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

" S hould someone visit to make sure he is well?" Teresa asked, a closed book resting on the dinner table beside her barely touched plate of food.

Prudence snorted, devouring her dinner as if she had not eaten in a week. "Check he is alive, you mean."

"Prudence!" their mother shrieked, sipping eagerly from her wine glass as she always did when her nerves were in need of steadying. "Why would you say such a terrible thing? He is perfectly well and perfectly alive! If he was not, we would have heard about it."

Isolde remained silent, pushing half a roasted potato around her plate until it had absorbed most of the glistening sauce that had trickled away from the crisped leg of chicken.

For three days, she had walked back and forth to the front door, determined to make the short journey to Edmund's townhouse to see what was wrong with him. Each time, she had stopped herself, certain that if he was keeping his distance then he had good reason for it. A reason that she should not bother herself with.

"Isolde?" her mother's voice dragged her attention up from the sodden potato.

"Yes, Mama?"

"You do not know what has happened to poor Edmund, do you?"

Prudence stopped eating, a wicked glint of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, Izzie, what have you done? Did you chase him away with one of my tricks? Was it the bucket on the door? The mackerel sewn into his bedlinens?"

"It is most unlike him to neglect his duties," Teresa added quietly, assessing Isolde with a more pensive look. "Did you quarrel again? I thought I saw you fighting from the carriage window, the day before he ceased coming here."

The dinner that Isolde had managed to eat suddenly turned into a rock in her stomach, her throat closing as she stared back at Teresa. Surely, her sister had not seen what had almost happened. Either Isolde or Edmund would have heard a carriage coming to a halt that close to the drawing room windows, would they not?

I was rather distracted… Might I have missed it?

After all, they had not heard footfalls coming up the porch steps. They had only heard the squeak of hinges, moments before catastrophe could occur.

"Why are your cheeks red, Izzie?" Prudence crooned, no doubt thrilled to have suspicion turned on someone other than herself.

The girls' mother set down her knife and fork and looked Isolde in the eye, her lips pursing as if she had just eaten something unpleasant. "When did you see this fight exactly, Teresa?" she asked without diverting her attention from Isolde. " What did you see, exactly?"

Isolde could not risk glancing at her sister, to silently implore her to remain quiet on the matter. She did not even know if Teresa did have anything to divulge, but it definitely felt like an axe was about to drop.

I did not do anything wrong. There was no kiss. Indeed, all I am guilty of is… wishing there had been, but I have overcome that foolishness now.

She knew, deep down, that Edmund's sustained absence likely had something to do with that near-miss of a kiss. As time had worn on, she had thought of it with less fondness and more annoyance, for how could she actually overcome that memorable moment if he would not talk to her about it? Surely, discussing it was the more mature thing to do, so they could dismiss it and move on?

"I could be mistaken, as it was very dark in the drawing room and the drapes were partially closed," Teresa said nervously, not quite dooming Isolde but not reprieving her either. "I thought I saw Isolde and His Grace arguing but, as I say, I might be mistaken."

Prudence pulled a face. "You did not tell me. I could have confirmed whether or not they were arguing, for my eyes are keener than yours. You have worn yours out with all of your reading by candlelight when you are supposed to be asleep."

Their mother put her hands up, the gesture commanding silence. "I shall talk to you about reading by candlelight later, Teresa," she muttered. "As for you, Isolde—is this true? Did you argue with Edmund? Is that why he has returned to his townhouse without a word?"

"There was no argument," Isolde said a note too quickly. "He came into the drawing room, realized I was alone and unchaperoned in his presence, and immediately left again. I do not know why he has not come back, but you saw our interaction on the riverbank—we were no different than usual. That was after what Teresa must have seen which, I repeat, was not an argument."

Isolde's mother lowered her hands and reached for her wine glass, taking another long sip as her gaze flitted between her three daughters. Obviously, she was searching for some agreed-upon subterfuge, but she would find none.

"But there was a difference on the riverbank," the older woman said after a moment. "At least, I thought there was. A promising difference. That is why I have been so astounded by Edmund's absence. He asked about your gowns—how could that not have been a fortuitous sign of interest?"

Prudence barked out a laugh. "Isolde and Edmund? You think Edmund is interested in my big sister? Are we speaking of another Edmund and another Isolde? Why, I know I am young, but I have never seen a less suited pair. They would kill each other!"

"When did you become so macabre, Prudence?" their mother tutted, turning up her nose. "And yes, you are young, so I would ask that you keep your opinion to yourself. They are not ill suited at all. Yes, they have not always seen eye-to-eye but they are older now, and he would be such an excellent choice. Vincent would be delighted."

"Vincent would be marching Edmund down to the Serpentine to duel at dawn, more like," Prudence interjected, grinning. "No brother wants their sister to marry their best friend, Mama. It is too bizarre."

"Prudence, desist!" their mother yelped, her hand flying to her chest in horror. "Never mention dueling again in my presence!"

For once, the youngest daughter had the decency to look ashamed, dipping her head as she mumbled an apology.

Meanwhile, Isolde was only half listening, her mind stuck on Prudence's words: I have never seen a less suited pair. Isolde had believed that firmly not so long ago, so why had she been so willing to kiss Edmund? There had not been a single doubt in her mind when it had seemed inevitable. She had even called his name when he had hesitated.

"Goodness, I do not know what the matter is with all of you tonight," her mother grumbled. "I ask a simple question, and it descends into chaos."

Teresa raised a nervous hand. "I would not say the question of marriage is a simple one, Mama. If Isolde is set against His Grace, you really should not push her to consider him. I, too, do not think Vincent would be as happy about the notion as you seem to believe."

"Nor do I have the faintest affection for the man!" Isolde jumped in, feeling it was of great importance to state that, once and for all. For herself, more than anyone, in case her resolve wavered more than it already had.

A throat cleared at the doorway to the dining room, all four women whipping around at once, eyes wide at the intrusion. Before Isolde had even looked at him, she knew who would be standing there. Of course , it was him, forever appearing at the most inopportune moments.

"Apologies for disturbing you," Edmund said, a strange fire in his gaze as it rested on Isolde. "I had no idea I would be entering such a heated forum, but I shall not trouble you for long. I merely came to speak with you, Dowager."

"What is in the box?" Prudence piped up, recovering the quickest from the surprise arrival.

Isolde glanced at the large, cream box in Edmund's hands, the package tied with a silky red bow. She would have known the design of the box anywhere, and where it had come from, though how Edmund came to be in possession of a box from Madame Versailles' shop was bemusing.

"An express rider handed it to me on my way in," Edmund said. "I believe it is destined for you, Lady Isolde."

Isolde blinked, caught off guard by the way he was looking at her, those curious embers still burning in his eyes. "Me?"

"Do you think it could be from an admirer?" Isolde's mother gasped excitedly. "A suitor, perhaps? Oh… could it be a gift from that absolutely charming Viscount?"

Edmund stepped forward and set the box down on the end of the long dining table. "I do not know where it came from. The rider did not say. It is a mystery that I am sure you will solve soon enough."

"But the rider must have said!" Isolde's mother urged.

Edmund bowed his head. "I am sorry to disappoint. Now, if you will excuse me, I should return to my townhouse."

"Immediately?" Isolde asked, her voice suddenly tight. "Did you not say you had something to discuss with my mother?"

A slight crease appeared between Edmund's eyebrows, his lips briefly turning up in a stiff, polite smile. "Quite right. I did say that." He looked to Isolde's mother. "I wanted to apologize for my recent absence. I have had important business to attend to, that could not wait, and it was easier for me to tend to it in my own residence. As the matter is ongoing, I believe it will be for the best if I remain in my own residence. Should you need anything, do not hesitate to send for me, and I will be at your service as quickly as I can."

"But why?" Isolde's mother asked, dismayed. "We have a perfectly good study, and no one is using it. You simply must continue to stay here with us. It will not be the same if you are elsewhere."

"Nevertheless, it is my preference," Edmund said, his tone a note colder than before. "This way, if you should happen to venture out with your youngest daughters again, Dowager, I shall not be left in an awkward position. I may be representing Vincent, but I am not him, and there are rules to be obeyed, even as a guardian to Lady Isolde."

Prudence flashed a wicked grin at Teresa. "I knew they had quarreled."

"Oh goodness," Isolde's mother lamented, finally seeming to understand. "You are right, Edmund. I was entirely remiss, leaving the two of you alone in the house together. I am so accustomed to having you in this house that I did not even think!"

Edmund folded his arms behind his back, that flat, hollow smile fixed to his face. It did not suit him at all, the sight of it jarring Isolde. Then again, she could probably count on one hand the number of times she had seen a real smile from him… which was why it was so peculiar that he had wasted one on her, at Martin Thorne's dinner party. She had not been mistaken, though she had replayed the moment in her mind a thousand times; Edmund had definitely smiled at her dancing with Beatrice.

"It is all right, Dowager," Edmund said. "There was no harm done. I departed shortly after I realized."

" Immediately after he realized," Isolde chimed in, her skin flushing fever-hot though it was mild in the dining room.

She did not dare to look in the direction of either of her sisters, for Teresa would wonder why she was correcting Edmund so fervently, and Prudence would instantly pick up on the slight disparity in the story. With any luck, however, the girls' mother would not notice at all.

Edmund raised an eyebrow but gave a nod of assent. "Exactly, that is what I meant. I was given an important duty by Vincent, but that does not supersede the duties of a gentleman. So, with regret, I will be at my own residence from now on." He began to walk to the door. "Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner. I have my own waiting for me."

As he left, Isolde's mother started to protest, rising from her seat as she called out for him to stay and join them. And, to her surprise, Isolde found that she was also rising to her feet, seeing an opportunity fading away with each of Edmund's retreating steps.

"I shall remedy this," Isolde said, hurrying out to catch Edmund before he left.

After all, she had a feeling that this was all her fault.