When Isolde stepped out of the carriage into the afternoon sunlight, he had to catch his breath. She wore a deep blue dress in a shade that matched her eyes and complemented her hair.
It was simple yet well-made, showcasing her figure modestly yet undeniably. He’d noticed she was pretty the day before, of course – the rumors of her beauty were no lies. But between nerves and not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he hadn’t truly taken in the sight of her.
He’d been thinking that morning of the last time he’d seen her, a few years ago in one of his infrequent trips home. He’d been on a walk because he never wanted to be inside when his father was home if he could help it.
He’d come around a bend in the path, and they’d nearly run into each other. She had her hands full of wildflowers that she’d picked, and one particularly pretty one that she’d tucked behind her ear.
She had been lovely then in a still girlish way, smiling shyly at him as he stood aside to let her pass.
Now, as he held his hand up to help her down from the carriage, he could see she had fully bloomed into womanhood.
All the hints of beauty that had been there from the start had come to fruition, and she was dazzling. He did miss the flower in her hair, though. He idly thought that he should put one there himself and then wondered what he was thinking.
He shook himself and realized everyone was waiting on him to make the introductions. He’d found it odd when he realized that despite the close quarters, his family had never formally met Isolde, or either of her siblings, in any social setting.
Apparently, the Fairchilds mostly kept to themselves, making required social appearances but little more. Tatiana had told him that they were seen as always on the edge of impropriety, saved by the title and the careful behavior of the children. He’d thought back to their conversation, and Isolde’s comment about not having so many suitors as he might expect. More fallout from her father’s actions.
“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled to everyone’s waiting stares. He caught Henry giving him an incredulous look while Tatiana giggled behind her hand. He blushed.
“Mother, Henry, Tatiana, this is Miss Fairchild.” He paused a bit before adding, a bit weakly, “My betrothed.” He hastened on in the growing awkwardness, “Miss Fairchild, this is my mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Hartington, my brother, Lord Henry Harrow, and my sister, Lady Tatiana Harrow.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, My Lady, My Lord, My Lady,” Isolde said, softly but clearly, and dropped into a curtsy. She was the picture of a perfect lady, and he was seized with a desire to look over at Henry and demand he explain how she was in any way ill-suited to be the wife of a marquess.
He shoved that desire down without looking at it too carefully. It was irrelevant because they were not actually going to marry. But still, surely no one could find any objection to her.
His mother and Henry returned the greeting with a similarly formal tone, but Tatiana, bless her, bounded forward to take Isolde’s hand.
“Now that we’ve been properly introduced, I hope you won’t be so formal. I’m ever so excited to know you. I’ve often wanted to come over and say hello to you and your sister, but Henry said it wouldn’t be becoming. But now we’ve met, we must be friends, and you must introduce me to your sister, as well!”
Isolde looked a little overwhelmed at such a greeting, but she smiled warmly.
“Thank you, I’m sure my sister would love to meet you, if there’s an occasion.” She glanced carefully to his mother as she said that, as if tacitly acknowledging she wouldn’t be pressing any luck. He thought again about how there was nothing objectionable about her, and this time the thought made himfeel a bit sad. How constrained she must feel to every social nicety, feeling that she could never put a toe out of line because of her family’s precarious position.
Tatiana pulled Isolde inside, still chatting happily. Henry and his mother followed behind, and he saw them exchange a glance, but he could not decipher its meaning.
“Tatiana,” he called, and his sister turned to him with a happy smile. He knew her support was born of her own dreamy, girlish ideas of romance, but he was happy for it all the same. “I have to attend to some business matters. Perhaps you’d like to give Isolde a tour of the house?”
“Oh yes, of course!” Tatiana beamed. “It’s a stuffy old place, but it’s not so bad. I shall show you all my favorite spots.”
Isolde still looked a bit overwhelmed, but she smiled and dipped her head.
“Thank you, Lady Tatiana. That would be lovely.”
“Just Tatiana is fine, please! After all, we are to be sisters, aren’t we? Let’s just be cozy, like good friends. I shall soon have you calling me Tati like Thad and Henry.” And Tatiana looped her arm through Isolde’s and started to lead her away – no doubt toward the library, Tatiana’s favorite haunt.
As they walked away, Isolde threw a glance back at him, and he realized he was somehow the person she knew best in this situation.
Thaddeus felt a desire to laugh at the absurdity of it, followed by a twinge of regret. Perhaps he should have cleared his schedule and given the tour himself.
But no, of course not. She was in much better, more lively hands with Tatiana. And she likely didn’t wish to see him, anyway.
Suddenly feeling quite grumpy, he forced himself to turn toward his study.
“Thaddeus.” He hadn’t realized his mother was still in the entry, watching him.
“Yes, Mother?” he asked, cautiously. They had not fully discussed the situation yet, and he was afraid to know her thoughts. Unlike his father, she had always encouraged him to be kind and trust his instincts – but he feared this situation might be a bit too unconventional, even for her. Sure enough, her face was solemn.
“You are the marquess here now, and I am only too happy for it, my darling. I have full faith in you, and you have my full support.But …” she hesitated, glancing down the hallway, “are you sure this isn’t a mistake?”
