“But speaking of romance, I saw the way Lord Henry was looking at you last night at dinner. He is besotted with you, and I think perhaps you owe it to yourself to see where it might go.”
“No, darling,” Annora replied, folding her arms stubbornly. “I told you, I promised I wouldn’t pursue him anymore. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
Isolde sighed, wanting to say more, but apparently, she’d had the desired effect of discouraging the whole conversation, because Annora stood up and grabbed Isolde’s hand.
“Come on, darling, let’s stop all this talk of romance and go have some fun!” And she dragged Isolde off to play more games.
***
Her own thoughts of romance were not so easily dissuaded, Isolde found. As she went upstairs to dress for dinner, one of the maids ran over to her.
“Note for you, miss,” she said, holding it out as she bobbed a curtsey.
“Thank you,” Isolde said, taking the note as she went up the stairs. Who would be sending her notes? But as she looked ather name on the outside, her heartbeat quickened. She was sure she recognized the handwriting – it looked the same as the letter Thaddeus had sent her from London.
She hurried to her room so she could read it privately. Opening it with shaking hands, she saw that it was indeed from Thaddeus. He asked if she would meet him at midnight, in the orangery, after everyone had gone to bed.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she could feel her earlier resolution to stop worrying about Thaddeus’s feelings weakening. After all, was this the request of a man who cared nothing for her?
To meet him late at night, in a secret place … it was very nearly scandalous! Didn’t it mean that what he had to say must be something intimate and private?
All through dinner, her mind went back and forth between possibilities. One moment, she was sure that Thaddeus must have felt the same glimmer of possibility between them as she had.
The next, she convinced herself that the reason the meeting was so clandestine was just that he feared drawing attention to them with so many people in the house.
She barely remembered to eat; she was so nervous and excited. And with how her stomach was fluttering, perhaps it was forthe best. Unlike the night before, she felt too shy to try to catch Thaddeus’s eye.
She glanced at him a few times when he was occupied with other guests, but never for more than a moment, worried that if their gazes met, he would be able to read everything in her heart – and so too might anyone else who was looking.
After dinner, everyone retired to the music room for entertainment, and Isolde sat nervously in the corner, wondering how best to manage slipping out to the orangery. Would it be suspicious if she stayed up after everyone had gone to bed?
Especially if Thaddeus did, too? And what if others tried to stay up with her? Many of the guests seemed to be in the mood to linger by the piano for hours yet.
Finally, she decided the best option was to retire to her own room as soon as seemed polite, and wait out the rest of the evening there, until she could be sure she could slip to the orangery unnoticed.
Thankfully, Lady Hartington and a few other of the older women took their leave after an hour or so, and Isolde waited a bit longer before retiring.
She tried to fill the time by reading one of the books she had found in the library, but she was too anxious to sit still. Nervousenergy jittered through her body, and the only thing that soothed it even a little was to pace around her room, thinking through what Thaddeus might have to say to her, and what she might say back.
Finally, the clock chimed midnight. Isolde crept out into the hallway and started making her way downstairs. She had barely made it down the stairs, however, when she heard someone calling her name.
“Miss Fairchild, a moment.”
She turned to find Lady Hartington walking toward her. Her heart started to race, as though she’d been caught doing something wrong.
Lady Hartington stopped at the parlor door and opened it, gesturing for Isolde to follow her in. The room was empty, but a fire still crackled in the grate.
“Please, sit,” Lady Hartington said. “I won’t keep you from your bed for long, I simply wish to speak with you for a moment.”
Isolde sat nervously in the chair across from Lady Hartington, doing her best to keep her spine straight and her face neutral. Lady Hartington gave her a long, hard stare, and then finally spoke.
“I know what you’re up to, Miss Fairchild.”
Isolde’s heart leaped into her throat. How could she have known that Isolde was going to meet Thaddeus? Isolde felt herself blushing as she tried to think of a respectable reason that she would be meeting Thaddeus so late at night.
“Lady Hartington,” she began, but the other woman held up a hand to stop her.
“I know exactly why you’re marrying my son,” she said. Isolde nearly gasped with relief that this confrontation wasn’t about the meeting, but then her nerves resurged at the intimidating look on Lady Hartington’s face.
