“Have you been drinking, Will?”
“Aye, milady.” The youth’s voice trembled more than his hands. “For courage.”
Isabella raised her eyebrows, but she felt something in her stomach plummet with foreknowledge of what was about to happen.
“Will,” she said quietly.
“I know I’m no one and nothing,” he said, his words tumbling over each other in their haste. “All I have is my skills with words and rhythms and rhymes. But you have always seen the beautyin poetry and music, milady. And I would ne’er forgive myself if I watched you walk away without telling you what is in my heart.”
Isabella sank down into her chair. She opened her mouth to speak but he held up an anxious hand.
“I have been dreaming of and dreading this moment for days, months. Years, even.” He squared his shoulders, unaware how the winter sunlight, shining through the windows, framed his fair-colored hair like a halo. “Lady Isabella.” He bit down on his lip until she worried it might start to bleed. “Isabella, if I may?” He waited for her nod. “You are about to leave your home. If you wish, you might find a new home with me.”
Isabella’s eyes flew to his, but her quick retort died on her lips when she saw the sincerity shining from his narrow face.
“’Tis a kind offer, Will,” she said instead, as gently as she could manage.
“’Tis a bold one,” he countered, making her lips curl into a surprised smile. “But I dare to believe I could make you happy.” He paused, awkwardly, scuffing his feet into the deep pile of the rug. “We have been happy, together. Have we not?”
“Aye, we have.” Isabella could not deny it. She smiled again, recalling both the lively dances and soothing melodies he had played—and all for her pleasure. “You are a fine man and a wonderful musician. You shall make some woman very happy, of that I have no doubt. But my future lies elsewhere.”
With Lord Gaunt.
No sooner had the voice spoken in her mind, than Isabella was moved to reconsider. Will was kind, honest and caring. He loved her. Or at least hethoughthe loved her. The truth of that was radiating from every muscle in his trembling body.
Her eyes flickered to the fireplace as her thoughts struck out on a novel new path.
Mayhap I could find contentment as the wife of a travelling bard.
Why not? Others married beneath them and seemed happy enough with the consequences. Her own sister had wedded a mere warrior. Was it not better to be married to a decent man who valued her happiness, than a man whose eyes had raked over her with cold disinterest?
But when Isabella looked back at Will’s anxious face, she found her answer.
Esme had fallen in love with her warrior, whilst Isabella could only ever see this young musician as a friend.
Love was the crux of it.That important, elusive elixir which had never yet beaten a path to her heart.
All Isabella knew was the value of a title, lands, and a grand home. And she was not ready to give any of that up.
“I’m sorry,” she added with sincerity.
Will smiled ruefully, a familiar light returning to his blue eyes. “You have naught to apologize for, milady. ’Twas impertinent of me to e’en imagine you might care for a man like me.”
“Do not say that.” She resisted the urge to reach out to him. “Your presence at Westchester Hall has been a great comfort to me.” She nodded for emphasis. “I will miss you.” Her voice wobbled as she found this was true.
Will I ever find such a friend in Greenock?
Will looked more comfortable now that he had said his piece and bowed again. “I will take my leave.”
He had grown into a handsome man, she realized, and a little kernel of regret formed in her breast at the knowledge that she could not simply take his hand and walk into the future by his side.
But she had to make her family proud.
More than that, she had to makeherselfproud.
“Here, take this.” She fished for her coin purse and brought out a silver coin that shone brightly against the dark silk of her glove.
“I cannot.” Will flushed.
