Isabelle gave a small laugh, her hand rising instinctively to fix the loose plait over her shoulder. “Oh heavens,” she murmured. “I’ll need to ask Robert to mind the children. Only for a few hours. He won’t mind of course, but—” she paused as a new thought dawned on her face. “Oh dear, I haven’t been in ladies’ company in such a long time. What if I’ve forgotten how to behave?”
Cordelia let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You are charming and warm and entirely lovely, My Lady. You’ll do marvelously.”
“I’m noLadyanymore, and Isabelle will do just fine, Cordelia,” Isabelle said, shaking her head, but the words weren’t bitter. She looked around the small, cozy room as if trying to see herself from the outside. Then, quite suddenly, she twirled in place, skirts flaring gently, a little squeak of giddy laughter escaping her. “Gracious, I haven’t worn anything truly pretty in so long! I wonder if my blue muslin still fits.”
Cordelia watched her, a hand resting lightly over her heart. “Wear whatever you like. You’ll outshine all of us.”
“Oh stop,” Isabelle said, blushing. “I’m a mother of three. I’m permanently jam-stained somewhere, and my hair never does what I ask it to anymore.”
Cordelia stepped forward and took her hand gently. “You are radiant. And my friends will see you just as I do.”
Isabelle squeezed her fingers. “I haven’t been invited to anything in years,” she said, almost a whisper. “No one even knows I exist, not properly. Some days I forget what it feels like to be seen.”
Cordelia felt something knot in her throat. She reached out and embraced her then without hesitation—just pulled her in and held her tightly.
“I see you,” she murmured into Isabelle’s shoulder. “And I’m so glad I do.”
Isabelle clutched her back just as fiercely. “You are a storm in slippers, Cordelia Brookes,” she said tearfully. “Mason never stood a chance.”
Cordelia gave a soft, breathless laugh and stepped back. “Please don’t tell him that. He already thinks I’m meddling.”
“Because youare,” Isabelle said with a grin. “But it’s the good kind. The kind that changes things.”
Isabelle was still smiling when she sat on the edge of the worn little armchair by the hearth while her fingers brushed absently against the embroidery on the cushion. The fire snapped softly beside her, casting golden light over the curve of her cheek. Her joy hadn’t faded; it had only settled into something gentler.
“I don’t think Mason even realize how lucky he is,” she said at last, “to have you here.”
Cordelia looked down, her fingers twisting in the edge of her shawl. The compliment landed too squarely in her chest, like a coin dropped into a well that never quite filled. She bit her lip.
The truth hovered dangerously on the tip of her tongue, that her stay at Galleon Estate was anything but certain and that every time she so much as glanced at the Duke, she felt like she was walking on eggshells made of glass.
“I’m not sure hewantsme here,” she murmured. “At least… not entirely.”
Isabelle tilted her head, her expression thoughtful.
Cordelia continued, trying for lightness though it didn’t quite reach her voice. “He said I could borrow books after I leave, so I imagine that’s his way of saying he’s counting the days.”
Isabelle didn’t respond right away, but she eventually did. “I’ve noticed a change in him.”
Cordelia glanced up.
Isabelle’s eyes were clear and steady. “Since you arrived. It’s in the way he speaks or maybe the way hedoesn’tspeak. He’s always been careful, quiet. But there’s something looser around the edges now, like… like something in him is waking up.”
Cordelia blinked, caught entirely off guard. “It’s not me,” she said quickly. “I haven’t done anything.”
Isabelle gave a knowing smile. “It’s not what wedo, Cordelia. It’s who wearethat changes those around us.”
Cordelia opened her mouth to protest, to deny, to explain away the hope that curled warm and traitorous in her stomach. But nothing came because Isabelle’s words wrapped around her too tightly, like a lullaby or a truth she hadn’t yet let herself believe.
Was that even possible? That simplybeing, with all her faults, her chaotic moods, her fumbling attempts to be helpful, that she couldmatter?
“You speak of him with such care,” Isabelle said, gentler now. “Even when you think he doesn’t deserve it.”
Cordelia let out a breath, her smile barely there. “He… makes it difficult not to care.”
Isabelle grinned. “Then I suppose neither of you truly ever stood a chance.”
Cordelia laughed in a quiet sound, caught between joy and ache. She turned to the fire, letting the warmth reach her fingertips, but her heart was somewhere else entirely… with a man in a shadowed manor, who never smiled the same way twice and who made her feel like being herself might one day be enough.
