She is too romantic for her own good.
“She believes in love,” William added. It was not an accusation, but a fact. “She has always believed in it. Quietly, without making a spectacle of it, in the way she believes in things she considers worth believing in and too private to discuss.” He shifted his gaze to James. “She would enter into an arrangement and make the best of it with everything she had, and some part of her would spend every day of it waiting for something she was told at the outset she would never have.” He paused. “And you would watch it happen.”
James felt something curl in his chest that he did not immediately have a name for.
“You think I would watch it and not care,” he uttered.
“I think,” William said, “that friendship does not mean I will willingly place my sister in the hands of a rake and trust that it will work out.”
There it was.
James paced. He had not intended to, but he couldn’t stand still with the pressure building in his chest.
“I am aware of my reputation.” He could no longer keep the edge out of his voice. “I have been aware of it for years, and I never found it worth fixing because it did not matter.” He moved around the desk, not toward William, but simply to expend his restlessness. “For so long, I did not care what anyone thought of me or what they said about me in their drawing rooms. I didnot care because nothing I valued was at stake.” He stopped and looked at his best friend. “That is no longer the case.”
He took a deep, steadying breath.
“I would never hurt her,” James said. “Not intentionally. Not under any circumstance I can conceive of. I am fully aware of what I am. I am aware of my history, and I am not arguing that it recommends me. But I would sooner take this house apart brick by brick than allow any harm to come to Isadora or to Violet.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I want you to know that.”
Silence fell over them, but it felt different from that of five minutes ago.
William looked at him for a long moment. Then he crossed the room.
He stopped two feet away, close enough that it felt deliberate.
“James.” The fury in his voice was colder and quieter. “If she gives this arrangement everything she has—which she will, because that is who she is—and she is unhappy?—”
“William—”
“Let me finish.” He narrowed his eyes, and his body went rigid. “If you make her unhappy or fail to keep the promises you made, there will be consequences.” His voice did not rise. It did notneed to. “Neither our friendship nor your title will protect you from them. I want that to be perfectly clear.”
James held his gaze.
He heard it. He felt the full weight of it. William had just asserted his sister’s worth and threatened what he would do if she were hurt.
“It is clear,” he said.
William studied him for another moment, then gave a curt nod and turned to leave. The door slammed shut behind him.
James stood in the center of the study. The pale light filtering in through the tall windows was a stark contrast to what had just happened in the room.
He went back to the desk, sat down, then reached for the nearest document and began to read it.
* * *
The church was small enough that he was at the front before he had fully prepared himself to be there, which was perhaps the point of small churches.
He turned when the door at the back opened.
He had told himself that the wedding would be unremarkable and that he was perfectly fine. He had told himself that everything would go smoothly and that he did not need to fret.
He had managed the morning adequately—dressed without incident, spoken to the steward about two estate matters that could not wait, drunk half of his coffee, and arrived at the church with time to spare.
He had told himself that he knew Isadora. That he knew what she looked like and that this moment would not require any attempt at composure.
He had been wrong.
She came in on William’s arm, and he forgot how to breathe.
