For Isabel.
For his heart.
Chapter 21
Isabel stepped from beneath the avenue of lime trees that lined the lane leading into the village’s market square. The full stream of mid-morning sun poured its suffusive warmth into the air and her.
“’Tis nothing short of a glorious day,” Miss Bretagne exclaimed to everyone and no one in particular. The girl felt so much and so deeply that Isabel experienced a niggle of worry for her. Eva had once been such a girl.
Isabel dismissed the thought. The fact was Miss Bretagne held too much wealth and privilege to ever suffer such a fate.
Besides, it was too splendid a day for futile worry. All that was required of one was to bask in the combined glory of yellow sunshine, verdant trees, bright flowers, and a thoroughly sated body.
Isabel’s pace lagged behind Eva and the Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe, and she allowed herself a secret smile at that last bit. It was possible she was becoming a wanton woman for there was no denying that devastating man had wreaked pleasure upon her body in ways she’d never conceived. That a tongue could be put to such a use . . .
To think of it now, amongst the upright and proper denizens of the village’s market square, felt slightly sinful. Because, oh, how she wanted Percy to unleash his wicked tongue upon her again.
Eva shot a glance over her shoulder. “Querida, are you feeling quite well? You look flushed.”
Isabel willed her gaze to remain steadily neutral in the face of what Eva left unsaid and the look in her eye implied.
“Would you mind very much if we pop into the circulating library?” Miss Bretagne asked, oblivious to the staring match between Isabel and Eva. “I must return, oh, it’s quite a lengthy title.” She dug a book out of her carry-all bag and read out, “The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinnerby Mr. James Hogg. In truth, I’m shocked they carry such a book. They must have believed it a religious text.” She gave an unladylike snort. “I can assure you it most definitely isnotgodly. Anyhow, I’d like to inquire if they happen to have—Oh, Mina, what’s the title of that book by the American chap?”
“The Last of the Mohicans?”
“That’s the one! I’m in the mood for an adventure.”
“And when aren’t you?” Miss Radclyffe asked. “I would posit that your thirst for adventure is one of the primary qualities that makes up the composition of you.” It was clear from her tone she enjoyed this about her friend.
Impatience radiated off Eva. “Meet me in the mercantile when you are finished.” Her sharp eye turned on Isabel. “Would you care to help me pick out a few pieces of trim?”
“I believe I’ll explore the library’s offerings.” Isabel had successfully avoided being alone with Eva since yesterday. She wasn’t about to break her streak now.
No choice but to concede defeat, Eva gave the group a tight nod and proceeded down the sidewalk, alone.
Isabel followed the Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe inside the dimly lit circulating library. It had the comforting musty scent of settled dust, aged leather, and yellowing paper of all libraries. While the girls quizzed the steward about any new novels, Isabel ambled deeper into the space. Quite unexpectedly, she happened upon a familiar figure bent over a thick tome. “Miss Fox?”
The lady straightened and removed her reading spectacles. “Lady Percival, what a surprise.”
Isabel couldn’t quite return the sentiment. This was precisely the sort of establishment where she would expect to find Miss Fox. “A little light reading?”
Miss Fox chuckled. “Oh, enjoying the local history. Did you know that the yews in the churchyard were planted to provide the local militia with wood for their longbows? And that the rectory is haunted by a woman who lost her way to Dent five hundred years ago and perished on the church steps during a snow storm? Shivering from cold, she lurks in corners, knitting and murmuring,’Tis so cold, so cold, so cold,” she finished on a dramatic tremble.
Miss Radclyffe’s head appeared around the corner of a bookcase. “Lucy and I are moving along to the mercantile.” Her eye caught on Miss Fox. “Oh, hello, Miss Fox. Would you care to join our shopping expedition?”
To Isabel’s great surprise, Miss Fox rose. “I should find that most pleasing. I’ve been sitting too long and could use a spot of exercise.”
Outside, the Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe strode ahead, and Miss Fox laced her arm through Isabel’s, so that they strolled arm in arm.
“My sister,” Isabel began, searching for light conversation, “has the idea that the ladies should have hair garlands for tonight’s musicale. Perhaps you would like one?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Miss Fox demurred, an air of surprise and bewilderment hanging about her.
It only now occurred to Isabel that Miss Fox might lead a full life, but mayhap a lonely one. Very possibly she didn’t have friends who offered her small kindnesses on a whim. Given her father’s predilection for gaming, Miss Fox had seen the unsavory side of human nature, Isabel was certain of it. In this, Isabel felt a sympathy with her. She understood how layers could accumulate on a person until one’s real self was buried, safely, deep beneath. Miss Fox was one such person.
Their group had traversed no more than half a block when they reached the village’s lone mercantile. Through the window, Isabel could see Eva examining several lengths of trim laid out by the proprietor. The Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe pushed inside, the bell that hung above the door jingling in their wake. When Isabel made to follow, Miss Fox’s grip on her arm tightened, preventing her from entering. Isabel tossed the woman an inquiring glance.
“Lady Percival, would you take a turn about the market square with me while the others do their shopping?”
