“I paid for these dresses!” Lord Poole’s voice was harsh. “That pitiful excuse for a monthly allowance that Saunders gave Emmeline wouldn’t have kept her in new gloves. I handled all of Emmeline’s personal finances. All the tradesmen sent their bills directly to me for payment. It was I who cared enough to make certain that Emmeline was given everything she desired, not her husband.”
Isabella nodded her head silently, unsure how to respond. Turning away from the grief and passion in Lord Poole’s eyes, she began retrieving the dresses from the floor and carefully returned them to the wardrobe.
Eventually Lord Poole joined her. He lifted a white muslin dress embroidered with small blue-and-red flowers and held it toward Isabella.
“Try it on,” he urged.
“I couldn’t!”
“Please, Isabella. For my sake. Try on the dress.”
Isabella glanced at the lovely frock with misgivings. She had never worn such a delicate, fashionable garment. The high-waisted gown had long sleeves with ornamental ruches at the wrists and a blue velvet band that crossed beneath the breasts. Isabella thought the simple, elegant style was romantic without being too fussy. Lord Poole pressed the gown into her reluctant arms.
Isabella felt her resolve falter as she clutched the dress. She was being silly. What harm would it do to merely try the dress on? It seemed such a little thing to make him happy.
“I’ll be back in a few moments.”
Once in her own room, Isabella changed quickly, the front fastenings in the bodice of the gown enabling her to dress unassisted. After closing the tiny pearl buttons at her wrists, Isabella anxiously turned to view herself in the cheval mirror. The high neckline enhanced the slender column of her neck and the soft white muslin brought out the natural pink tones of her high cheekbones. Eyes sparkling with delight, Isabella modestly admitted the dress looked good on her. Smiling, she left to show Lord Poole.
He brightened visibly when she reentered the room and rushed forward to greet her. Isabella felt the coldness in his hand when he touched her fingertips.
Still clutching her hand, he stepped back and studied her closely, his eyes narrowed. “You look charming, Isabella, yet something is not quite right.” Lord Poole dropped Isabella’s hand and circled her slowly, stroking his chin. “It’s your hair. Emmeline always wore her hair down.”
Without asking permission, Lord Poole yanked a pin from Isabella’s tightly bound chignon. She was startled by the action, but when he reached for a second pin, Isabella threw her arm up in defense and grasped his wrist firmly.
“I am not Emmeline,” she whispered softly.
Lord Poole stared at her long and hard. His pleasant features tightened in annoyance and his blue eyes darkened, deep and fathomless. Isabella shivered.
“Forgive me,” he said finally.
“Miss Browning! Miss Browning! Where are you?”
Catherine appeared unexpectedly in the open doorway. “Ah-ha, I have found you. Ian and I are having a contest, and now I have won.”
Isabella released her grip on Lord Poole’s arm and backed away from him. His expression was once again kind and pleasant, but Isabella could not easily dismiss his former anger.
“If you have found me, Catherine, then Ian is still searching. We must go and tell him that the game is over,” Isabella said, trying to keep her voice from giving away her confused emotions.
“May Uncle Thomas come also?” Catherine asked.
“He will join us in the schoolroom this afternoon,” Isabella said. Composing her face into an expressionless mask, she addressed Lord Poole, “We all look forward to seeing you later, Thomas.”
Lord Poole’s eyes clashed with Isabella’s, but he said nothing as she and Catherine escaped into the hall.
Lord Poole remained standing in the center of the empty room. His head felt light and he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage away the tension. He tried to focus on the events of the last few minutes, but random images of Emmeline flittered in and out of his mind.
A deep, terrible yearning filled his body. His chest hurt and his lungs burned. Slowly he released the breath he’d been holding. A ghost of a smile lit his mouth.
He was making progress, of that he felt certain. Yet he must be more careful in the future. Isabella had clearly been frightened when he tried to arrange her hair. He was sorry for that, but the excitement of seeing her dressed in a gown made for Emmeline had overwhelmed him.
How very much alike the two women were! The softness of their skin, the sparkle of their eyes, even the lilt of their voices were the same. Thomas closed his eyes, savoring the memory.
The images in his head were jumbled and confused, and they meshed and merged before a clear picture of Emmeline floated into his mind. He clung to it. It was a miracle, truly a gift from God. The fates had smiled upon him and he was grateful. He had found his beloved Emmeline. And he vowed never again to lose her.
Chapter Nineteen
“His lordship has consented to a brief audience.”
