Chapter 11

11

Most of the haut ton were making plans to leave town in the next few weeks to spend the summer at their country estates, so the last ball of Bella’s London season was a popular one. Catherine hadn’t been invited, nor had Mr. Peckham, as they didn’t fly quite so high and invitations were hard to come by. Bella was sorry not to see her friends one last time, but resolved to at least send a letter with a private goodbye to Catherine before she left London.

She knew Lord Brooke was to be at the ball, however, as he had already reserved two dances with her.

The night seemed to be passing by far too quickly to Bella, and it had a frenetic quality about it; the lights were too bright, the music too loud, the rooms too hot, Bella’s laughter more nervous than genuine.

During their waltz together, Lord Brooke seemed to notice her uncertain mood, and he whisked Bella out a set of French doors and into the gardens before she could think of refusing. Though of course she wouldn’t have, even if given the choice. This was the opportunity she’d hoped for, to speak privately with Lord Brooke, and she should have been happy that it was finally happening. Instead, she was now in a state bordering on fatalistic. What did anything matter, after all? She had been a fool to think that she could escape the destiny that had been set out for her since her birth. Lady Strickland had told her so, and she would have been better off had she believed her. Instead, she had flown too close to the sun and, like Icarus, was about to lose her wings and suffer a humiliating fall.

Lord Brooke said nothing as he led her into the darker part of the gardens, eventually stopping at a stone bench. She smiled a little when she saw him wipe it off with his handkerchief before inviting her to sit. Dirtying her skirts was the least of her concerns, though she felt the ice around her heart melt a little at his chivalrous gesture.

“Now, tell me, why do you look as if you’ve lost your best friend? Is your cousin in good health?” he asked.

“Yes, she’s well enough. I suppose I’m saddened by the fact that we leave in two days, and—I will never see you again,” she said, answering him honestly. Because, of all the terrible things that were about to happen, including her separation from Issie and her need to find a place to live, the thought of never seeing Lord Brooke again ranked as the worst.

“In two days? I had no idea your departure was so soon. Forgive me, at first I alarmed you by moving too fast, and now I’ve gone too slow. I’m a fool,” he said with a rueful smile, but Bella did not smile in return. She barely comprehended what he was saying and merely stared up at him, the moonlight reflecting off the unshed tears in her luminous blue eyes.

“Oh, Bella, of course you will see me again. I will never leave you; I never could,” Lord Brooke said, and dropping down to the bench beside her, he took her in his arms.

Bella began to wonder if she were dreaming; the evening had already had a feeling of unreality about it, and this, above all else, seemed like it had to be a fantasy of her own devising. At first, he merely held her tightly, her breast pressed so closely against his that she could feel the beat of his heart and the hard plane of his chest just as she had the first time they’d met when she’d unintentionally thrown herself into his arms. She had wanted nothing more than to be back in his embrace ever since their first, eventful meeting, and now it felt as if she had come home after a very long journey. But then he pulled back and kissed her; on her cheek, her forehead, even the side of her neck, as if he was taunting her by not meeting her lips with his own. But she knew that he was always kind to her, never cruel, and that those teasing kisses were his way of asking permission, so that when he finally did touch his lips to hers she was more than willing, nay, eager, to receive them.

This kiss was far more satisfying than their first, as that one had been interrupted before they’d barely begun, and this one went on and on. Bella would not have cared if he kissed her till morning; she never wanted him to stop, but he finally drew gently away from her.

“Bella, I apologize. I should have waited till after everything was official, I suppose, but we’ve been promised to each other for so long, I think I can be forgiven for stealing a kiss or two,” he said, with the boyish grin she usually found so appealing. But she was so shocked by what he’d just said that she had no desire to smile in return, and when he dipped his head to resume kissing her, she drew away from him.

“What did you just say?” she asked.

“That I should not have kissed you until our engagement was official? Don’t worry; it was said in jest. But I promise to put a notice in the papers this week, if it relieves your mind,” he said, dropping a kiss on a sensitive spot below her ear. “I’ll even get a special license and we can marry immediately,” he whispered into the ear he’d just kissed, and Bella, who was trembling and lightheaded from the effect of his touch and his voice and his nearness, forced herself to try to think. She put a shaking hand to his chest and held him away from her.

“Wait,” she said. “You said we are promised to each other, and have been for a long time.”

“Yes, more than five years now. Surely, I’ve waited long enough, and can be rewarded with a kiss after all this time.”

Bella, still in shock, said: “You, Lord Brooke, and Lady Isabelle Grant, are contracted to marry.”

“I’m not sure contracted is the correct word; I don’t think there was ever such a formality as a contract made; but you had to know that it had been planned for us. I was sure when you made that visit to Bluffton Castle that your mother told you. She had to have told you. I cannot understand why you seem so surprised.”

Bella thought back over what she knew of Issie’s life since that visit. “Then why have you never made any effort to see me, even once, in the years since that meeting?”

“What was the point? I knew you would be making your come-out when you were eighteen, and we could not be married before then. I was told you had insisted upon having a London season before we married. Everything was delayed, of course, when your mother died, and I admit I felt like I’d been granted a bit of a reprieve. I wasn’t fully convinced, in my callow youth, of the wisdom of an arranged marriage. To tell you the truth, I was dead set against the idea. My poor sister had been forced into one, and her marriage had been very unhappy. So I had ranted and raved that I would never submit to such a thing, and completely overlooked the benefits of such an arrangement.”

“And what benefits are those?” Bella asked.

“Why, the usual things; we had a very similar upbringing and we have much in common, more than I could even list. You’re the daughter of a peer and have been trained since childhood to become the wife of one. I must admit such arguments meant next to nothing to me when I was an immature young man determined not to submit to my parents’ wishes, but I can see some wisdom in them now.”

When Bella continued to frown at him, he seemed to realize this line of reasoning wasn’t very complimentary and changed course. “And when I met you again; well, you can have no doubt that I’ve been assiduously and willingly courting you since the day we ran into each other at St. James’s. And I’ve been cursing myself for having wasted all that time, after all.”

He smiled lovingly at Bella, but all Bella could think was that his smile was meant for Issie, not for her; that all of it—his attentions, his compliments, his kindnesses—was intended for Issie all along, even those passionate kisses he had just given her and she’d returned so ardently. She had never been entitled to any of it; it was all as false as the identity she bore.

His smile faded the longer she stared at him in silence, and then she stood up and ran from the garden and from him. Her only small comfort was that when he called after her, it was her name he was calling, not Issie’s.

“Bella, wait,” he said.

But there was only one person Bella wished to talk to at that moment.

Issie’s evening had ended much earlier than Bella’s, so she’d had hours to cry into her pillow before Bella returned. And even though Issie felt as if her heart were breaking and that she would never be able to do anything so prosaic as sleep, she had just fallen into a light doze when Bella threw open the door and swept into the chamber.

“Is it true, Issie? Was a marriage arranged between you and Lord Brooke by your parents?” Bella demanded, and Issie wondered why all the consequences of her lies and omissions had come home to roost on this one particular night.

“Is it true?” Bella asked again, after Issie had sat up in bed and merely blinked in response. “You and Lord Brooke were promised to each other?”

“Yes, it’s true,” Issie said, and her broken heart cracked a little further when she saw the disappointment on her cousin’s face.

“I don’t understand. If you were already spoken for, why did you want Dr. Jordan to court you?”

“Because I foolishly thought I could escape my destiny,” Issie said expressionlessly, as she had cried so much and for so long that she had now reached a state of numb acceptance and resignation. “But I should have known it was impossible.”

“And you didn’t think you should inform me of this little detail when I was pretending to be you?” Bella was trying her best to keep her temper under control, but she couldn’t restrain herself completely, and some of her anger made itself evident in her tone of voice, and Issie winced a little at the sound of it, muted though it was.

“You don’t understand. It was the most humiliating experience of my life. I wanted to forget it ever happened.” Issie expelled a deep sigh before continuing. “You remember when my mother and I went to Bluffton Castle when I had just turned fourteen,” she said, and Bella nodded. “I know that I’m not beautiful like you”—Bella made an instinctive protest that Issie ignored—“but I never thought myself ugly. That is, until I met Lord Brooke.

“My mother had spent the morning telling me the extent of my imperfections; that I was too much of a bluestocking, that I was an embarrassment to her, and that I didn’t deserve the match she’d managed to arrange for me in spite of my many faults. So I was already feeling very awkward and ugly and belittled. But shortly after we arrived, Lord Brooke came into the room and he was…beautiful, the handsomest man I’d ever seen. Of course, I hadn’t seen many men at all, at that point, but to give him his due, even now that I’ve met a number of them, I still can’t deny he’s a very attractive one. But then…I saw his expression when he caught sight of me.”

Issie paused and took a shuddering breath. “I can’t even put it into words, but it was as if his worst fears had been realized. That he did not find me attractive in the least, but”—Issie’s voice lowered until it was almost inaudible, and she whispered the next word, as if it was too embarrassing to say aloud—“repulsive.

“I know you say he was kind to you, and I realize he didn’t mean to be cruel; he probably didn’t even know what his expression revealed. But it hurt, Bella. It injured me greatly. It made me feel that I was so unattractive no man would ever marry me by choice, and if I were ever to marry, it would only be because my mother brought it about.”

“I am so sorry, Issie,” Bella murmured, much of her anger having dissipated as she listened to her cousin’s explanation.

“I realize he was young, as you mentioned before, and I think he’s learned some compassion since; I do believe he would more carefully control his expression if we met for the first time now. And he was probably not aware how obviously his face gave his feelings away. But that was another reason I avoided participating in the London season; I knew that even though my mother was dead, Lady Dutton would make sure Lord Brooke and I fulfilled our parents’ wishes, and I couldn’t bear to be rejected by him a second time.”

“But Lord Brooke said you requested a London season.”

“I did, but not because I wanted one. It was a delaying tactic. I knew if I did not come up with an excuse, and one my mother would accept, I’d be dragged to the altar as soon as I turned eighteen, if not sooner. I figured that if I asked for a season it would at least delay the inevitable another year. But you, of all people, must realize I never really wanted one! I just wanted to avoid marriage to a man who very clearly did not want to marry me.

“That’s also why I found Dr. Jordan so appealing. I thought that perhaps, since he was not titled or wealthy, he might feel my status and fortune would make up for my other defects. Little did I realize that he would feel the exact opposite,” Issie said, with a wry smile. Bella, who had no knowledge of what Issie had gone through that evening, ended up kicking off her satin slippers and climbing into bed beside her as she told Bella of her terrible night, crying again as she did so, even though she had been so sure she had no tears left. Bella comforted her and murmured to her and proved once again to be her only refuge, as she had been their entire life.

“And so I suppose I will marry Lord Brooke after all,” Issie said, after she had pulled herself together and finally stopped crying. “I told you, Bella, I will do anything to avoid going to live with Aunt Lucretia. And then, if I marry Lord Brooke, I will have a home of my own and you can live with us and my aunt can’t separate us. Besides, I’m prettier now than I was at fourteen, and he’s much kinder than I remembered. I studied his expression when we met at the park and he did not look repulsed by me at all.”

Issie yawned, and her heavy lids closed, so that she didn’t see the stricken look on her cousin’s face. “Dr. Jordan may have broken my heart, but I think he is probably correct that a person should not marry outside of their social class. We would have most likely been miserable,” she said, with a last little gasping sob. “I would have never suspected that he’s as prideful as my mother was, but in the opposite way.” And then she yawned again and went to sleep.

And Bella went to her own chamber; not to sleep, but to plan what she was to do with the rest of her life.