She had several reservations about him, which were different. She had years of opinions, cataloged and well-evidenced, and a thorough understanding of his character and its limitations, and a memory of him standing in a nursery at midnight with his cravat undone, asking her to marry him as though it were a business proposal—which it was.
That was the problem. He had not asked because he wanted her. He had asked because she was convenient.
That was the thing she needed to hold onto.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Cecily appeared from the direction of the back door, a light shawl draped over her shoulders and another on her arm.
“I needed air,” Isadora said.
“Yes.” Cecily sat down beside her without invitation, entirely unruffled. “The dining room was rather… warm.” She held out the shawl. “Here.”
Isadora took it and draped it over her shoulders without argument, because the evening had cooled and she had not brought her own, and accepting a shawl was not the same thing as inviting a conversation.
“The air is very pleasant,” she murmured.
“It is.” Cecily looked out at the parkland. “Are you going to tell me what happened at the dinner table, or shall we discuss the air for a while first?”
Isadora didn’t say anything, so they sat in silence for a moment. She looked at Cecily sideways, but Cecily merely waited.
“He asked me to marry him,” she admitted.
Cecily turned slowly, the surprise evident on her face. “James asked?—”
“Before the announcement at dinner. Before all of that. The night before, in the nursery.” Isadora kept her gaze on the parkland. “He had just come from a meeting with the solicitor. He asked at an unreasonable hour.”
“He asked you,” Cecily repeated, sounding dazed.
“He had a very practical explanation for it.”
Another silence.
“What did he say?” Cecily asked carefully.
Isadora looked at her then. Cecily’s expression was no longer shocked.
“He said that an unmarried guardian with his reputation was a liability for Violet. That a guardian with a wife of good family and character would make it far more difficult for anyone to challenge the guardianship,” she revealed. “That the household would appear stable, and society would stop interfering.” A pause. “He also offered to build me a library larger than Blackmoor’s.”
A beat.
“Did he?” Cecily said.
“He was entirely serious about the library.” Something entered Isadora’s voice that she had not quite intended. She smoothed it flat. “He was very clear about it. The arrangement would be practical. There would be no romance involved—no love. He made certain I understood that before I answered.”
“And you said no,” Cecily concluded quietly.
“Of course, I said no.”
“You said no, and yet at dinner tonight, when he announced his intention to propose to Caroline Pembley, you looked as though someone had?—”
“I set it down too quickly.”
“Isadora.”
“I was concerned about Violet,” Isadora said with conviction, because shewasconcerned about Violet, and the conviction carried her through for approximately four seconds before Cecily’s expression made it clear that four seconds were not sufficient. “Iamconcerned about Violet.”
“I know you are,” Cecily assured her. “I also know that concern for Violet is not the only thing currently sitting in your chest.” She paused. “If the whole matter is truly practical… if you refused on practical grounds and there are no feelings involved, then why does the thought of James marrying someone else upset you this much?”
