“Izzy?” Cornelia asked tentatively, “you don’t care if Lord Hartington falls in love with someone else, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said, but even her own ears caught how her voice trembled.
“Oh, Izzy …”
“Never mind,” Isolde said, sitting up. She felt miserable, but staying here with her sister’s pity wouldn’t help. Perhaps she should find the staff and ask for lunch to be brought up to her room. Or perhaps she should go back to the hunting lodge, to prove to Lady Bradshaw that she wasn’t so easily scared off.
She was weighing these two options when Annora burst into the room, out of breath.
“Isolde, darling! Come quickly, Lord Hartington was thrown from his horse and badly injured!”
Time seemed to stop for a moment, and all Isolde could hear was the thudding of her own heart. She felt the blood drain from her face, and Annora reached out to grab her hand.
“Isolde?”
Annora’s touch brought her back to herself. She jumped up from the bed.
“I must go to him, immediately!”
***
The yard around the lodge was full of people, but Isolde paid them no mind, rushing right through the door and looking around wildly. Thankfully, her gaze landed on Thomas, who was standing in a corner.
“Thomas!” she said, nearly tripping as she rushed to him, “Did you see? Is it bad? Where is he?”
“Calm down,” he said, hugging her. “It was a bad fall, but the doctor says he’ll recover. He’s in the parlor.” He gestured across the room where an archway led a few steps down toward a half-closed door. “But Isolde –”
She didn’t wait to hear what else her brother had to say but pulled herself out of his embrace and ran in the direction he had pointed. Some deep fear spurred her on, making her feel she couldn’t be sure that Thaddeus was all right until she saw him with her own eyes.
She reached the few stairs and nearly leaped to the bottom. She heard Thaddeus’s voice – it sounded rough and pained. Her heart clenched in her chest. She was about to push open the door when another voice made her stop cold.
It was just a murmur, but she’d unfortunately become all too familiar with the voice that she heard. Lady Bradshaw was in the room with Thaddeus.
She took a small step toward the door, listening.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of.”
“Lady Bradshaw …” Thaddeus’s voice sounded a bit airy, like he was weak. Isolde felt a compulsion to run to him, to throw her arms around him, and demand he prove he was going to be okay.But the sound of Lady Bradshaw’s voice, and Thaddeus calling her by her name like that … Isolde could only creep forward, unable to resist listening further even as the idea of them together made her feel sick.
She made it to the door and was able to peer in. Thaddeus lay on a chaise lounge, his face pale and his eyes closed. Lady Bradshaw was leaning over him, dabbing his forehead with a cloth.
“You know,” she said, “if you wanted to finish what we started the other night in the garden, there were less dangerous ways to get my attention.”
Isolde’s blood ran cold. She backed away but knocked the door as she went, and it clattered against the wall. Lady Bradshaw turned at the noise, and Thaddeus opened his eyes.
For one split second, their eyes met. Then Isolde turned and ran. She heard Thaddeus calling after her weakly, and Lady Bradshaw shushing him, telling him to let her go.
Tears filled her eyes as she hurried back to the entry hall and across it to the door, and she willed herself not to cry them. Not until she was back in her room and alone.
She was nearly to the edge of the yard when she heard Lady Bradshaw calling after her. She stopped instinctively, her good manners finally catching up with her. She blinked to clear away her unshed tears and turned to face the woman.
“Miss Fairchild,” Lady Bradshaw said, crossing her arms. “I think it’s finally time you and I have an honest conversation.”
Isolde glanced around at the yard. There were still plenty of people outside, but none close enough to hear them. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders.
“Some honesty would be nice from you, Lady Bradshaw,” she said with as much courage as she could manage. Lady Bradshaw smiled.
“Good, I’m glad you don’t want to pretend we’re friends. That makes it easier for me to say this: You ought to stay out of my way.”
