Lord Blackstone’s eyes widened in a mixture of dismay and amusement. “It would have been purely accidental, if that is what you mean.”
Isaac laughed, but it hurt. He sucked in a deep breath of air through the small space that remained in his throat. His condition had made him a little too bold, or even delirious, but he felt well enough to assume he would survive. He hoped so. He had to survive at least long enough to ask Sophia why she was crying.
She blinked fast, but her eyes looked dryer than before. Upon seeing her face for the first time tonight, Isaac had been surprised by how similar she looked to his memory, frozen in time, yet refined by age. He wouldn’t have thought it possible that she could grow even more beautiful, but she had. Her curled lashes, wet with tears, framed her thoughtful blue eyes. Her skin was milky white, without the freckles he remembered, and her hair was no longer bleached on the ends from the sun. She was a London girl once again, because that was the life she had chosen over the one he had offered her.
He couldn’t afford to forget that.
He shunned his admiration, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and his body calm. He had never reacted so adversely to any food before, but he would have appreciated a warning before being served a potential poison.
“Perhaps more water?” Lord Blackstone offered.
Isaac nodded, gulping down the rest of his glass with the help of his cousin. He might have been mistaken, but Percy’s mouth hovered on the edge of laughter. He would never let Isaac forget this embarrassing moment and the newfound delicacy of his constitution. It was humiliating enough to make his face burn. An egg could have been cooked on his cheek for how hot it felt.
Isaac had never been the strongest man in any room, or the most talented at riding or dueling. He had always been the tall, rather ungainly one. Not only that, but he was far more emotional than other men of his acquaintance. He was prone to accidents and blundering, even in his conversations. If this incident were to befall anyone at the table, it wasn’t a surprise that it had been him.
His throat itched, but there was nothing he could do to scratch it. His stomach lurched with discomfort.
“Let us help Mr. Ellington to one of the guest rooms,” Lord Blackstone instructed. “The physician will be here soon to examine him.”
Isaac felt Sophia’s hands slip away from his hair, and he leaned into Percy as he and Lord Blackstone helped him to his feet. His legs shook from the shock of the ordeal, but he managed to stand. A footman stepped in for Lord Blackstone, and the two men led Isaac out to the corridor and up the stairs.
The guest room was growing dim, but a few candles were lit at the bedside. Isaac managed to cast up his entire dinner once he was away from the other guests. He felt better instantly, though his throat and lungs still burned with the effort to breathe. The physician, a man near Isaac’s own age, had verylittle knowledge to offer, having never encountered a poisoning by exotic nut before.
Isaac couldn’t blame him.
With a wet towel to cool Isaac’s skin and reduce the swelling, and instruction to rest and drink water, the man left the house just after dark.
Isaac stared up at the ceiling. He doubted he would sleep. He didn’t dare, not while his breathing was still so labored. He glanced at Percy, who sat in a wooden chair beside his bed. “Don’t feel obligated to stay here all night,” Isaac rasped. Lord Blackstone had already left the room to report the state of Isaac’s condition to the others at the house.
Percy laughed. “I can’t have Miss Prudence or Blackstone thinking me heartless, now can I? As far as they know, I am here to tend to your every need like the caring cousin I am.” He laughed before leaning his head back on his chair and closing his eyes.
Isaac grimaced. It was difficult to make Percy Ellington look like a saint, but that blasted cashew might have just made it possible.
Isaac awoke with a sore throat, but most importantly, his soul still inhabited his body. He hadn’t died in the night, not even after enduring Percy’s constant snoring. Sunlight bled through the edges of the curtains, just enough to indicate that dawn had broken.
Isaac dressed quickly in his clothes from the day before, combing his hair with his fingers. He kept his movements quiet as he crept out of the room and toward the staircase. After the humiliation he had endured the night before, he wanted to sneakout of the house before being seen. He was presentable enough to make the journey home on foot, and the exercise would do him good.
His emotions felt bottled up inside him, the pressure growing more intense by the second. The source was difficult to name, but one thing was certain:
Sophia was not as cruel as he had hoped.
Beneath her nonchalant facade, she must have still cared for him a little. She didn’t wish him dead, at least. Isaac didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He needed her to prove herself as harsh as the letter she had written him if he wanted to forget her, but that no longer seemed possible. She had proven that her heart wasn’t entirely cold, and Isaac could already feel his own thawing.
That was unacceptable.
It would be best to avoid her from now on. He would make excuses to avoid Lord Blackstone’s invitations in the future. Fleeing from his house was the first step, even if he was still a little unsteady on his feet.
At the bottom of the staircase, Isaac turned right, unsure of the direction of the front door. His coat and hat would be there somewhere, but if not, he was certain Blackstone could have them delivered.
His legs moved quickly, his long strides carrying him down the silent corridor. As he approached a corner, he avoided a collision with a young woman by inches. A flash of white fabric and dark hair was all he saw at first, but then the image cleared.
Sophia clutched a leather book to her chest, eyes open wide. “Mr. Ellington!”
“Forgive me,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She took two steps back, putting a few feet of distance between them. She examined him with a swift glance. “You’re awake. You’re…well.”
He nodded, the edges of his face on fire. “I was looking for the front door.”
