There was a silence.
“Only briefly,” Jacob finally allowed, shortly.
A fleeting coldly amused satisfaction glinted in his father's eyes.
“But Jacob…you've never been the...” His mother closed her eyes and issued the word with a shiver. “...brutishsort.”
Jacob dragged in, then released, a long, long breath.
In truth, he'd been pulled off Redmond before he could land another blow.
He had cause to be glad of that now.
Because he thought he would destroy anyone who put that devastated expression on Isolde Sylvaine’s face.
When the crowd of men who’d dragged him away from Redmond finally released his arms, the only Sylvaine he saw was George. And that was because George had been among those holding him back.
George had insisted on seeing Jacob all the way back to the Eversea house.They did not speak, because Jacob wouldn’t.Devil of a way to learn you’re back in town, Eversea, was how George bid him good night.
“How did it start?” Jacob’s father asked almost absently.
“Redmond lunged for me. I defended myself.”
“Helunged?” His mother’s hand flew to her throat.
“Perhaps my reflexes were a bit too wound up after my journey. I fought pirates.” He’d left this part out of their reunion conversation yesterday. He hoped to distract them.
“Sweet Christ,” his very proper mother muttered faintly after a moment.
Jacob couldn’t suppress a swift grin.
“I was—I am—proud of the way you conducted yourself in the West Indies, Jacob,” his father mused. Jacob had told his father yesterday about how he’d handled the plantation shares, and his father had gratifyingly approved. “And you’ve never been a hothead. Which is why I’m struggling to understand this little altercation. Why did you do it?” his father's voice was almost congenial. Perhaps even a little mischievously conspiratorial. “Was it about a girl?”
Jacob wasn't fooled. He knew all the strategies his father used to get men to lower their guards. To get men tolikehim, to confide in him, to trust him. It was such an enveloping, warm pleasure to be liked by an Eversea, after all.
He knew he had made use of the same strategies at times. He’d learned from the best.
He was not in the habit of lying to his parents, though certainly they were not, and had never been, the recipient of all of his confidences.
No doubt his parents already suspected the reason. His father in particular had his ways of learning things. And besides, what else could cause a man to lose his mind, if not a woman?
But he didn’t think he would ever shake the habit of protecting Isolde, whether or not she’d betrayed him. He didn’t know what that made him, or what that meant. It was merely true.
“I'm afraid it must remain a matter between myself and Redmond,” he said calmly. “And while I deeply regret embarrassing you, rest assured he deserved it.”
Four parental eyebrows flew up.
“If I may be excused?” Jacob concluded politely.
But he had already risen from his seat, and they let him go.
Isaiah finally rose,got into fresh clothing and splashed water on his face. The house was still very quiet when he found his way downstairs. Only servants were stirring. Breakfast smells wafted up from the kitchen.
He was surprised to discover Fanchette alone in the morning room, sitting on one of the settees near the fire, a pot of tea resting on the little table next to her. She wasn’t doing a thing but gazing out the window. Her complexion was luminous in the rosy morning light.
He knew a sudden, knee-weakening surge of gratitude for her uncomplicated, incurious nature, and a rush of tenderness born of pity. For she would likely never know, never even suspect, that he hopelessly loved another woman.
The pity was all entwined with guilt. He knew this guilt would bind him to Fanchette forever, if he married her.
