Thomas looked at him with big eyes, for a moment looking so much younger than his years.
“Do you really mean it?” he asked breathlessly.
“I do,” Thaddeus replied. “I mean it, even if things don’t work out between me and your sister. I … I meant what I told you. I care about her, and I will see her well cared for, even if not by me.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said fervently. Thaddeus could only nod and turn away, a little bashful under the other man’s effusive gratitude.
As they rounded the corner and the house came into view, Thomas spoke again.
“You said you would marry my sister if you can manage it – and that you’d help even if things do not work out. Has my sister still not given you a clear answer?”
Thaddeus felt his cheeks flush and was grateful for the dark that hopefully hid his blush.
“I regret to admit that I still have not been able to speak with her. It has been … a trying few days. But now that I am better, nothing will stop us from being able to find a moment alone together. I will make sure of it.”
Chapter 25
“What do you think?” Isolde asked Annora, biting her lip and considering the clock on the mantle. They had been in Isolde’s room for nearly an hour, but the night was still young, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to return to the ball or not.
“Well …” Annora said, thinking, “I think first of all, you should go with what you want. You’ve had a harrowing evening, and no one could blame you for simply going to bed. Or, if you wanted, for going back down to the ball to dance and enjoy yourself. It’s entirely up to you. But …” and Annora got a bit of a twinkle in her eye, “if you’re having trouble deciding, I do think it’s a shame that Thaddeus was up and about for the first time in days – andclearlylooking for you in the ballroom –”
“You can’t be sure of that –”
“I can, and I am, and don’t interrupt, darling. My point is, if you’re unsure, perhaps there’s no time like the present to try to get a moment alone with your fiancé. Hmmm? What do you say?”
Isolde considered it. Annora wasn’t wrong. But she couldn’t help wondering if it would be better to take the night to rest.
She still felt a little shaken from the garden. Thaddeus would still be there in the morning, and what’s more, tomorrow the guests would go home. It would be much easier to speak to him about things when everyone was gone.
Then again, though Annora assured her that Henry would make sure Crowley was gone, that wouldn’t necessarily stop him and her father from going through with Crowley’s engagement to Cornelia. And time was of the essence, in that case.
A sudden flurry of activity in the hall interrupted Isolde’s deliberation. She and Annora exchanged curious glances, and Annora popped up to open the door. No sooner had she swung it open than a maid appeared.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but as the door was already open –”
“What is it?” Isolde asked, standing. Something about the maid’s face scared her.
“They’ve sent me to fetch you, Miss Fairchild. It’s your father. He’s taken ill in the ballroom.”
Isolde felt her heart drop and her whole body go cold.
***
The next hour was a bewildering whirl of activity and emotions. The ball ended early, of course, but as all the guests made their way back to their rooms, Isolde followed the maid down to the bedroom where they’d put her father. The doctor was called and appeared promptly, sending everyone back out of the room while he examined her father.
She stood in the hallway, looking at Cornelia and Thomas across from her, their faces mirroring her own complex emotions. It had been years since she had relied on their father for anything, but now that he was ill, she suddenly felt it was too soon to lose him.
The doctor emerged looking grave and quietly asked to speak with her. She followed him into the bedroom, and he closed the door.
“I’m afraid it’s his heart, my dear,” the man said. He had a kind face, and Isolde could tell he hated to be the one to break this news to her. “It’s very weak, and this episode was a close call. And unfortunately … there is no easy way to say this, but in my professional opinion, he may not survive the night.”
Isolde felt faint, and the doctor guided her to a chair.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Please, if I could just have a moment alone,” she whispered.
“Very well,” he said. “Do I have your permission to tell your brother and sister?” She nodded numbly. Some voice whispered that she ought to be the one to tell them, but she wasn’t sure she could get the words out.
