Miss Caroline sat, glanced toward the cradle by the window, and looked away.
“What a charming room,” Lady Pembley remarked, assessing it with a sharp gaze. “Ashbourne has a particular architecture. The light is exceptional.”
“It is,” Isadora agreed. “I confess I had not expected it. The estate is larger than I imagined.”
“The park alone must take an age to walk,” Miss Caroline spoke up, smiling.
“It does.” Isadora nodded. “Though I find the east walk particularly good in the mornings.”
“James has always preferred the lake path in the marquess’s seat,” Miss Caroline said lightly, the way one mentioned a simple, unremarkable fact. “He said the light was better there in the early hours. We spoke of it once when he was describing the estate. It was two Seasons ago, I think. Or was it three, Mama?”
“Three,” Lady Pembley replied serenely. “The winter we attended Lady Forsythe’s gathering.”
“That is right.” Caroline’s smile did not falter.Two or three Seasons ago. One of them cannot remember which. How odd that neither can quite pin it down, and yet both remember it perfectly.
“It is a beautiful place,” Isadora said pleasantly.
“Yes, it is rather magnificent.” Lady Pembley bobbed her head. “We have always thought so. My late husband and the former Duke were… not close friends, exactly, but well acquainted. We visited several times over the years.” A pause. “When the former Duke was alive, of course.”
Isadora received that with perfect tranquility.
“Of course,” she said. “You must find it much changed.”
“A little, though change is often an improvement.” Another pause, graciously delivered. “The household certainly seems to have found its footing.”
“Of course,” Isadora said with a smile.
Lady Pembley smiled back.
“You have settled in very quickly,” she observed, with every appearance of admiration. “One hears how demanding a large estate can be when one arrives suddenly. The household, the tenants, the obligations.” She tilted her head. “It is a great deal to take on at once.”
“It is,” Isadora agreed. “Though I find managing it more interesting than demanding. There is a great deal to learn.”
“You were always so capable.” Miss Caroline said it with such genuine warmth that Isadora spent a full second deciding whether it was a compliment or something else entirely. “I remember thinking so at the Carlton’s soirée… You and I spoke for a short while near the pianoforte. Though I imagine you do not recall it.”
“I recall it well,” Isadora said, though she filed that away. She had no recollection of the Carlton’s soirée whatsoever. “A very pleasant evening.”
“It was.” A pause. “I remember James arrived late and sat rather close to the door. He always disliked being too near the instrument. He said violins gave him a headache.”
Isadora thought of James attending a musicale and developing a headache, and decided that violins were probably the last cause of it.
“He has never mentioned it,” she said pleasantly.
Something flickered across Miss Caroline’s expression, though she recovered beautifully.
“Oh, one tends not to mention one’s musical opinions in polite company,” she said with a small laugh. “I only knew because we were seated together for the second half. He was very goodcompany, even while suffering.” She smoothed one finger over her glove. “He always has been.”
Isadora looked at the fire for a moment.
She was not jealous. She was quite clear on that. Whatever had occurred between James and Miss Caroline across two or possibly three Seasons of musicales and fond conversations about lake paths was none of her business, had never been her business, and she had absolutely no right to feel the emotion she was currently feeling, which she was not going to name.
It is not jealousy.It is simply the irritating awareness that another person knows things about my husband that I do not.
The tea arrived. Isadora presided over it with smooth efficiency.
“Milk, Lady Pembley?”
“Please. No sugar.”
