“That is generally how it works, Letitia.”
“When?”
“Spring.”
“Spring?” Letitia pulled back and looked at her with wet eyes. “Izzy.”
“I know,” Isadora murmured.
William stood up, crossed to her in giant strides, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Brother,” she said, her voice muffled
He said nothing; he only held her for a long moment. Then he stepped back and searched her face. She gave a small nod, and he exhaled.
He looked at James with the expression that communicated, without any words, the full complexity of what it meant to him. That his closest friend had become his brother in thetruest sense, that his sister was here and happy and building something real.
James held the look and nodded in response.
Cecily came to Isadora and hugged her tightly.
“I am so happy for you both. I have been hoping for this. How do you feel?” she asked when she released her.
“Tired,” Isadora sighed. “Happy. Occasionally unreasonably hungry at three in the morning.”
“That continues,” Cecily said sympathetically.
“So I have been told,” Isadora groaned, glancing at James.
“I have been preparing toast at three in the morning for six weeks,” he said to William.
“It gets worse before it improves,” William warned playfully.
“A baby,” Letitia squealed. “Ashbourne is going to be extraordinary.”
“It already is,” James said, staring at Isadora.
She smiled at him.
The room and the family and the warmth of the evening went on around them, and underneath it, in the quiet way of things that had become simply true, she looked at him, and he looked at her, and there was nothing left to manage or protect or keep carefully at arm’s length.
This, Isadora thought, looking at the candles, the fire, the faces of the people she loved sitting around at her dining table.Exactly this.
The family left late—Letitia making three additional observations on her way out, William shaking James’s hand at the door with the same pressure as always, Cecily embracing Isadora with a warmth that carried everything she did not say aloud.
Then Isadora and James found themselves alone in the drawing room.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers. Outside, the grounds were dark and cold. Inside, everything was exactly as it should be.
James was staring at her as they both sat close to the fire.
“James.” She leaned closer to him.
“Mm?”
“Say what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking,” he said, “that I spent a long time being very careful about what I allowed myself to want. And that I am sitting here now, in this room, with you, and I find I cannot remember what any of that careful management was protecting.”
