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The older lady gave a gratified smile. “Just so,” she agreed.

After inclining his head politely, Simon guided Isla toward the head of the table.

It seemed that Monteagle’s withdrawal had prompted the departure of every one of his guests. They milled around the table, expressing thanks to their hostess and farewells to each other. Simon readjusted his course, steering Isla toward Martha.

“I am very sorry, Isla.” His sister eyed Isla’s soiled gown with concern. “You must be as cold as you are uncomfortable in that wet gown.”

“Are you?” Simon asked, chagrined that he hadn’t even thought to ask.

“I shall manage very well in the carriage if I have a cloak,” she said.

“Do we have an extra cloak available?” Maidstone asked.

Isla shook her head. “No, my lord.”

Her message was clear. She had discarded it and had no plans to retrieve it.

“You must wear mine,” Simon said.

“Thank you, Simon.” Martha claimed Isla’s arm. “If you would express your appreciation to Lady Monteagle on Isla’s behalf, I shall ensure that Isla is warmly clad in your cloak by the time you join us in the entrance hall.”

With no small amount of reluctance, Simon let Isla go and crossed to where Lady Monteagle was taking leave of her guests.

“Lord Bancroft!” Lydia broke away from speaking with her mother and approached him.

Simon hesitated. More than anything, he wished to offer his thanks to Lady Monteagle and be gone from here. With Isla. But no matter their complicated past, he could not bring himself to snub Lydia. Stifling a sigh, he inclined his head. “Your Grace.”

“I need only a moment of your time, my lord.” Her hesitation was so fleeting, he wondered if he had imagined it. “I simply wish to offer you an apology.”

Simon stared at her. He had not known what to expect, but it was certainly not this.

“You have always treated me with the utmost respect and kindness.” Her hands were clenched, and there was a look of determination in her eyes that he had never seen before. “But I am ashamed to admit that the same cannot be said of me. I should have spoken to you—explained my situation more fully—before dissolving our betrothal.”

“I . . . I see.”

“You deserved better,” she continued, “and although I had nothing whatsoever to do with your change in fortune, I am happy that you have been offered it now.”

Simon felt quite certain that he should know what Lydia was referring to, but his head was spinning too fast to grasp it. “Offered what exactly?”

Sadness tinged her smile. “You gave me no reason to doubt that you cared for me all those months ago, and had circumstances been different, I truly believe we would have been content together. But I have watched you with Miss Crawford. You never looked at me the way you look at her. It is quite obvious that the two of you share something far more rare and lovely than we ever experienced.”

“I . . .” Simon shook his head as if to clear it. Did Lydia have the right of it? Was this why she had been studying him so intently? “I hardly know what to say.”

“You do not need to say anything,” she said. “My apology stands regardless of whether or not you accept it.”

For months, Simon had dreamed of this moment, of the satisfaction he would feel if Lydia ever deigned say those words. But he had never considered that his foremost reaction to her admission would be relief or gratitude.

“Please consider your apology accepted.” He could have said more—likely should have said more—but the words escaped him.

“I am most thankful, my lord.” She smiled, and this time, he caught a glimpse of the carefree Lydia he’d once known. “You have lifted a burden I have carried for too long.”

He understood the sensation. On the day he’d walked out of the Whitelys’ front parlor in gutted despair, he could never have imagined being fully free of the anguish he’d known then. “I wish you well, Your Grace.” He could say that in all honesty now.

“And I, you, my lord.” Her smile faltered slightly. “Miss Crawford is lovely. I am sure you shall be very happy together.” She bobbed a curtsy and turned to go, unaware that her parting words had pierced him with more pain than joy.

With an all-too-telling ache in his heart, Simon crossed the short distance to Lady Monteagle. He was twice the fool. He had overcome past hurt only to set himself up for even greater injury. If his desperate concern for Isla this evening was any indication, he was well on his way to being fully in love with her. He smothered a groan. Given that Isla could disappear at any moment, never to return, he was in no better position now than he had been when he’d exited the Whitelys’ manor alone and for the last time.

Chapter 16