He stood up and turned for the door. ‘I will say my farewell to Connie. Just send me word when she is well enough to travel and I will dispatch the coach for you all.’
‘What about Mrs. Mead?’
He turned and looked back at her. ‘I have offered to bring her to Brantstone but she has expressed a desire to remain in Little Benning. I will gift her the cottage and an allowance for her life.’
Isabel nodded. ‘That is very generous.’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing can truly repay the debt I owe her, Isabel.’
As he stepped into the hall, she said, ‘Have a safe trip, Sebastian.’
He stopped and looked back at her, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He stretched out a hand, taking hers and lifting it to his lips. A thrill ran through her at the touch of his strong, calloused fingers.
‘And thank you, Isabel. For everything.’
As he released her hand and turned away, she pressed that hand to her chest, and took a deep breath.
She heard his footsteps taking the narrow stairs two at a timeand the floor creaked above her head as he crossed to his sister’s bed.
Isabel looked up at the ceiling and smiled.
Chapter Thirty-One
As the coach rolled away from the little cottage, Isabel climbed the stairs to Connie’s room. As she knocked and entered, she heard an audible sniff. She looked across at the bed in time to see Connie stowing a handkerchief beneath her pillow.
‘The quicker you are well, the quicker you will see him again,’ she said, taking the chair beside Connie’s bed.
Connie smiled. ‘Silly of me to cry, but I always seem to be saying goodbye to Bas.’
Isabel regarded the girl. Although pale and wasted from the fever, the likeness between this girl and her brothers was unmistakable. The quality in the men that gave them a rugged attractiveness, in their sister produced an ethereal beauty.
Connie smiled and looked around the room. ‘Lady Somerton, you didn’t have to stay. I am sure it must be perfectly beastly to be cooped up in this tiny cottage.’
Isabel shook her head. ‘Not at all.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘Can I share something with you?’
Connie nodded.
‘Not only am I glad to be of some use, but I like it here.’
‘But it’s so small compared to what you are used to. Brantstone must be very grand.’
‘It is, but that doesn’t make it a home. This cottage may be small, but this is a proper home, Constance.’
She refrained from saying that what made it a home was the invisible ingredient: love. There was no love at Brantstone.
Connie shook her head and smiled. ‘Please don’t call me Constance. The only person who calls me that is Bas, and only when he’s cross with me. Everyone calls me Connie.’
Isabel smiled. ‘Connie it is. And when we are alone, you can call me Isabel.’
‘Oh, that wouldn’t be right.’
‘Please. I would be honoured.’
‘Isabel,’ Connie gave her a shy smile, ‘I haven’t thanked you for everything you have done for me.’
Isabel looked down at her hands. Two compliments in one morning?
‘It was nothing,’ she said.
