Ah.
Isolde wanted to applaud. Trust her mother to corner Lady Lavinia so effectively. Now, the lady either had to back down or repeat mean gossip to Isolde’s face.
“Oh, I wouldn’t repeat anything,” Lady Lavinia said with saccharine sweetness. “It’s merely, as the daughter of a duke, Iunderstand how these things are arranged perhaps a bit better than others.” Again, her eyes darted to Isolde.
Isolde nearly laughed at her audacity.
Lady Hadley’s expression did not change, but Isolde could feel her mother’s rage rising.
“Is that so?” Lady Hadley said. “As the daughter of a Duke of Montacute myself, I understand your point, Lady Lavinia . . . specifically how gauche it would be, for example, to correct my social superiors.”
Lady Hadley’s words landed with the precision of a sharp fist to the jaw. And given how Lady Lavinia’s expression contracted and her head snapped back, she felt the jolting impact.
She lifted her chin higher. “Of course. I shall leave you ladies to your planning then.” She curtsied and shut the door behind her with aclack.
Isolde and her mother exchanged a long look.
“And there is no way to send them packing?” Lady Hadley asked on a sigh.
Isolde shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Not without dealing another harsh blow to my reputation.”
“That woman is wretched.”
“Agreed. Allie refers to her as ‘the ferret’.”
Lady Hadley cracked a weary smile. “I do dearly love Lady Allegra. Lavinia does indeed resemble a weasel, now that I think upon it. That is a delicious image.”
“I find it soothing when Lady Lavinia is at her most fractious.”
“You and Tristan may come stay with us, you know.”
Isolde pressed her fingertips to her brow. “Thank you, Mamma, but Tristan will not cede the house to his upstart relatives. Besides, Allie and Ethan are still in residence, and we can hardly abandon them.”
Her mother’s lips pursed. “Don’t hesitate to tell me, your father, or Tristan if matters become too heavy.”
“I won’t,” Isolde said.
But even that felt like a lie. The entire affair already felt too heavy.
What she wanted was quiet and a modicum of peace. To return to Canna and be lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean and Tristan’s breathing at her back and forget that London and its societal stratagems existed.
However, as Isolde had created this mess, she needed to be the one to see it cleaned.
And clean it, she would.
Tristan’s week didnot improve.
None of the servants had any knowledge of Ledger’s sister or her whereabouts. Ledger himself certainly hadn’t appeared. Worry tugged at Tristan’s mind. What had happened to the man?
A part of Tristan’s heart—the tenderest portion, the one that still housed a lonely, friendless boy—couldn’t shake the fear that Ledger was simply avoiding him. That Ledger had fled and said good riddance to Tristan and the duchy altogether.
When studied in the light of day, however, Tristan recognized the thought for the self-pitying refrain that it was. But as he was learning, ofttimes the heart didn’t deal in rationality.
Adding to his woes, Tristan saw little of Isolde during daylight hours. He missed passing the hours with her,exchanging ideas and talking endlessly about everything from Descartes to gardening.
Having never loved like this before, he hadn’t known Isolde’s absence could make his ribs ache. It felt akin to nails scraping his chest from within—a constant irritation that only her presence could soothe.
Isolde herself appeared in good spirits. Like her father, her good humor rarely flagged.
