But she slipped a little in the growing mud, and when he caught her, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky and she gasped, staring at his face.
“Oh, Aaron, you’re hurt.” She reached up and brushed the area near his eye. “I am—I should have noticed. My God—”
“Am I?” He frowned. Well, he was, but he could barely feel the bumps or bruises anymore, not with her. “On my face?” he asked, reaching up and touching the area. A little tender, but compared to the rest . . .
“Are you injured elsewhere?” she asked, unfortunately moving away from him so she could inspect his body, and not in the way he was longing for.
“Um . . . ,” he managed to mumble as he debated with himself over how much honesty she needed, especially if she would nurse instead of kiss, because he wanted kissing, damn it. He was still not convinced he should have her, but after this night, he did deserve at least a bit more kissing, right?
He glanced over her shoulder and caught Pena’s gaze and grimaced. So perhaps no more kissing. At least not until they were married and it was a commandment, so no one in the community could scold them.
“I need to see.” Isabelle’s voice, in addition to her fingers on his buttons, brought him out of his thoughts and back to the now cold and wet situation.
“It’s really nothing. Just some bumps and bruises,” he managed to say as she opened his shirt, her eyes growing wide.
“Aaron,” she cried. “What did he do to you?” Eyes flashing, she turned to where the other carriage had been. The Berab brothers were quite lucky they’d left when they did.
“He kicked me a few times when I was tied up,” he admitted. “But I gave as good as I got.” He pointed to his feet. “These might be uncomfortable and don’t fit at all, but that was probably a good thing, as it kept them on my feet despite the scuffles and kidnapping. They have nice hard soles, which make for excellent self-defense.”
“The slippers hurt?” She knelt down, her gown billowing in what was most certainly mud. They were going to be quite a sight when they returned to the ball. “We need to get these off. Now.” She started on the laces.
“Pardon us,” a male voice called. “Would you two—are you in need of some assistance?”
“Pena,” Isabelle called, not bothering to look up from her work. “Aaron’s injured, and grandfather’s shoes are bothering his feet.”
Wait—what did she say? He stared down at her. “Grandfather’s?” he asked as Pena guided Isabelle’s grandmother over to where they were standing.
“Yes. Your garments—well, a good portion of them—belonged to the late Mr. Lira.” Pena glanced at Isabelle’s grandmother. “The elder one.” He gave Aaron a long, lingering once-over. “They’ve seen better days.”
“That’s hardly his fault,” Mrs. Lira said, leaning forward with the assistance of a gold-topped cane. “And you looked lovely in them before all of this.” She waved a bejeweled hand at him, and his mouth fell open.
He knew that bracelet. He’d quite recently stared at it and pondered its origin.
Aaron gaped at her. “Miriam?”
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “Yes, my grandmother’s name is Miriam. How did you—”
“Mr. Ellenberg and I are old friends,” Mrs. Lira—Miriam said as Isabelle rose to her feet, holding the slippers, so his stocking feet were now in the mud. More comfortable, but muddy. Not that it mattered. Not with, well, everything, including . . . He shook his head at the older woman, barely believing what he was seeing.
“How?” Isabelle glanced between the two of them and folded her arms. As if Miriam’s deception was equally both of their faults.
“You truly don’t think all I do with myself is visit with orphans and have teas?” Her grandmother gave her cheek a pinch, winking at Aaron. “I’m much too clever and good at gathering information.”
Aaron could only stare back before returning to Isabelle. “She works with the Commission of Delegates,” he explained. “She was the one who helped get me out of trouble and back into the community and . . .”
“I made sure he was taken care of, like we’d do with any member of the community who needed our help. Not that Mr. Ellenberg didn’t contribute himself. He’s hard not to like, after all,” Miriam told them. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, “But I did a good job with my part, did I not?”
He gazed at Isabelle, who had started toward the carriage with Pena. Turning around in her muddy skirts, she smiled at him with such, well, love, it was as if they were being blasted with sunshine instead of pelted with rain. “The best job,” he told her. “Thank you.”
“Come on,” Isabelle called, running over to him. “It’s storming, and we’re going to need some time to look, well . . . not frightful, especially if we want to be there before midnight.” She bit her lip. “If you still want . . .”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he told her, squeezing her hand in his as he helped Pena guide Miriam toward the carriage with his other. Because they were going to have to go quickly if they wanted to make it by midnight, and he wouldn’t miss whatever Isabelle was planning for the world.
They’d made it back to the festival with almost an hour to spare, giving Isabelle necessary time to change. Into a lesser gown, to be sure—cerulean was pretty but inferior to red. Judith had been almost apoplectic about her hair, grumbling and fretting the entire time, but they’d managed to reset a significant number of curls and style the rest with enough ribbons and jewels that no one could possibly notice any lingering mud or rain.
Weiss had been a touch miffed that he’d not been able to make a full speech, though she’d assured him that there would be plenty of opportunities in the future, given his new role. Instead, at the conclusion of the opera, after the prince and his Cenerentola took their final bows, she took the stage to make the announcement herself.
She told the assembled crowd that she would indeed be getting married, as soon as possible, Lag BaOmer crowds of couples be damned—she’d already made enough of a spectacle. She would be marrying Aaron Ellenberg, the most wonderful, kind, caring, and lovely man in all of London. She would even make more appearances at the Great Synagogue, if he wanted.
