“Oh, darling,” Letitia whispered.
“It’s all right,” Cecily said quietly. “Let it all out.”
Isadora scarcely heard either of them. She could not have answered even if she had tried. Her mind had already fled back to Ashbourne. To James standing before her, his lips parting as though he wanted to say the words she had needed him to say. But he had simply stood there.
She heard herself saying goodbye. She remembered the look in his eyes, the look that had seemed to promise everything, and the unbearable silence that had followed instead.
“I’m here,” William soothed. “Take your time.”
She cried harder.
He looked helplessly at Cecily. “Should we… ?” he trailed off.
Cecily gave the smallest shake of her head. “Not yet.”
Letitia rubbed slow circles over Isadora’s back. “Just breathe, Izzy,” she whispered. “No one is asking anything of you.”
They waited. No one rushed her. No one filled the silence with well-meant reassurances. They simply remained where they were, surrounding her with the quiet compassion reserved for her heart that had finally reached the point of breaking.
William looked away as though every tear was a personal affront. Letitia’s own eyes had filled.
At last, Isadora’s sobs ebbed enough for her to draw a proper breath. Only then did Cecily step forward.
“Here.” She slipped an arm around her shoulders before she had fully understood she was being moved. “Come inside. We’ll get you warm.”
“I’m fine,” Isadora managed, which was so obviously untrue that she couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Of course you are,” Cecily replied in the tone she used when agreeing with something she entirely disagreed with. “Come in out of the cold.”
William held the door open. “I’ll have tea brought immediately.”
“And something to eat,” Letitia added firmly.
William nodded at once. “Yes. Something to eat.”
Letitia appeared at Isadora’s other side without another word and slipped her hand into hers. Together, they went into the morning room.
Someone produced a blanket. Someone else served tea.
Isadora sat on the settee and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, fresh tears streaming down her face.
“Right,” she said. “I am going to stop doing this.”
“You don’t have to stop,” Letitia said, sitting beside her. “You can do it for as long as you need.”
“I have been doing it for hours.”
“You have been composing yourself for hours,” Cecily said from the chair opposite. “I can understand how you feel.”
Isadora looked at her. Then she looked at William, who had stationed himself by the fireplace, not hovering, but present, close enough to be useful.
“Tell us,” Cecily demanded.
Isadora looked at her hands. “I read the morning paper.”
“And…?” Letitia prompted.
“Caroline Pembley was seen entering James’s London townhouse,” Isadora said flatly. “Alone. In the evening.”
