The colour rose in her cheeks and she looked swiftly away from him, feeling Isaac’s incredulous stare like a physical touch to her skin. Was he horrified by the notion Charlotte might pass away or the suggestion he marry her? Likely both, neither something he’d ever wish to dwell on.
‘I know there’s something between you. I saw it in the library when you were so insistent all you were doing was looking out at the snow. I’m a foolish girl, but I’m not entirely blind...together you could make Christopher’s life very happy and his family complete.’
The baby stirred and Charlotte rocked him gently, her face creasing for a moment with a flicker of pain. Honora longed to reach out, but her limbs were too heavy, shock and bone-deep tiredness stealing any hope of movement as Isaac dropped his head into his hands.
She thinks there’s something between us.
Of all the confusion and dread that spun through Honora’s mind that one phrase leapt forward before she could wrestle it back. Of all the things to ask for—how could Charlotte think Isaac would agree? Even if his feelings for her had grown a little warmer that didn’t mean he would want to commit himself to her, tying himself to a wife he’d already stated he had no intention of taking.
And the baby? Honora couldn’t allow herself to think of it. Her yearning for motherhood had never been at the expense of another. For her to take the baby Charlotte would have to die and the very idea of it rose bile in her throat.
‘My little wren...’ Isaac’s words were between a murmur and a sigh, holding such anguish Honora wanted to take him in her arms and help soothe his raw agony. ‘Don’t say these things. You don’t—’
‘Please,’ Charlotte interrupted weakly. ‘There’s nobody I love more than you, but my boy will need a mother. Let it be Honora. There’s no other I would trust.’
Honora found she was shaking her head. It was madness, pure and simple. Charlotte couldn’t die. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t be snuffed out like a candle, leaving Isaac to his fathomless grief and no doubt blaming himself. The thought of two lives wasted washed over her like a grim tide and she felt her throat tighten with emotion as Charlotte settled more comfortably against her pillows.
‘I think I’ll rest a while, now I’ve told you my plans. I’ll sleep easily in the company of my three favourite people in all the world.’
She smiled then, such a sweet, contented smile Honora could hardly bear to see it. Isaac must have felt the same, for without a word or even so much as a glance in Honora’s direction—whose desire to hold him close bloomed inside her like a dark flower—he returned his head to the cradle of his hands and didn’t raise it again until a knock at the door announced the arrival of the doctor.
Chapter Ten
Absently Honora stared up at the bunch of mistletoe that gleamed below the parlour’s crystal chandelier, its white berries catching the feeble light. The whole room was festooned with holly and ivy, mistletoe and boughs of evergreen, but that seemed such a pointless thing to notice when she could just overhear the doctor speaking quietly to Isaac beyond the half-open parlour door. She sat alone, cold and aching and trying to catch every word she could.
‘The bleeding has stopped, thank heaven, and the sleeping draught I administered should bring her much-needed rest. I must warn you, however, that your ward is extremely weak. I’m afraid you should prepare yourself for the worst—I’ll do all I can for her, but her chances of survival...’
‘I see.’ Isaac’s voice was desperately hollow and Honora closed her eyes in yet another silent prayer. ‘Her condition is as serious as that? You’re certain?’
‘I fear so. Had she been of a stronger constitution, less frail before the birth, her prognosis might not be so bleak, but that’s hardly relevant now. You must focus on keeping her calm and comfortable. She mustn’t be allowed to become aggravated again. Any whims, any strange fancies should be humoured to make her mind easier.’
‘Humoured?’
‘Yes. It’s vital her nerves are soothed if there’s to be the slightest hope of recovery. Hysteria in women is a very real problem. They lack the rationale of men and their nerves can be their greatest enemy. If you can work to put her mind at rest, you’d be helping more than any medicine I can give.’
At any other time Honora would have rolled her eyes at the doctor’s misinformed views on female capability, but as she sat in the chilly parlour any indignation deserted her. There was only one thing Charlotte had requested that might be termed a ‘fancy’ and the idea of Isaac entertaining that was too unlikely to believe.
‘And the child?’ Beyond the door she heard Isaac continue, his voice still taut with rigidly repressed emotion. ‘Is he well?’
‘A strong baby. I’ll send for Mrs Glenn—a very good woman and extremely discreet. She’s just weaned her sixth and will be glad to nurse your...your...’
‘Heir,’ Isaac supplied firmly. ‘Thank you, Dr Harcourt. I’d be grateful if you could make those arrangements as soon as possible, if as you say this Mrs Glenn isn’t given to gossip.’ There was a shuffling that might have been the noise of two men bowing or shaking hands—and then the subtle clink of coins. ‘For your services this morning and a little more to thank you for your continued discretion.’
‘Of course, Lord Lovell. You can always rely on me to respect the privacy and dignity of my patients. I’ll call again this evening. Good day to you.’
Honora listened to the retreating sound of boots with her head bowed, trying to ignore the burning behind her eyes. Charlotte lay upstairs, teetering between this world and the next, her future hanging by the finest of threads, and there was nothing Honora could do to help. She was powerless—just the same as Isaac, who stood now on the parlour threshold and regarded her narrowly.
‘I suppose you heard all of that.’
The only response she could manage was a silent nod.
‘So you understand Dr Harcourt’s recommendation. What is your opinion?’
Confused, Honora frowned up at the man closely watching her every move. He seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps searching was more the right word, but there was nothing to tell her quite what it could be. ‘His stance on women’s abilities isn’t something I agree with, but I suppose for the remainder he must know best. He’s a well-established doctor, after all, from what you told me when he arrived. I imagine his advice will be sound.’
She saw Isaac’s throat move as he swallowed with difficulty, her confusion only growing with his curt nod. ‘My thoughts exactly. If there’s anything to be done to ease Charlotte’s distress, I would like to attempt it.’
He sat down opposite her on a luxurious striped sofa, directly below where the mistletoe spun gently on its ribbon. The thin light of the winter morning lit one side of his face, illuminating his firm jaw and his brow creased with suffering.
‘I know it’s an enormous step to take. I don’t think either of us could have foreseen this, but I don’t see any other way to proceed. It’s what she wanted... I never could refuse her anything and now her very life might depend on it I find myself weaker than ever.’ He ran a large hand over his face and then looked Honora unflinchingly in the eye. ‘So you’re truly in agreement? You would really do this for my poor girl? I’m not ignorant of the fact you wouldn’t have chosen this path, but I hope the idea isn’t as abhorrent as it might have been once. You would be doing me a great honour.’
Slowly the wheels of Honora’s mind began to turn and as the truth unfolded her eyes grew wide.
He’s talking of Charlotte’s wish for us to marry.
There was no other explanation that made sense.
He’s talking of Charlotte’s wish for us to marry! And he wants me to accept!
Her dawning understanding must have swum through her expression, as Isaac rubbed his forehead with heavy unease and shifted position on the sofa.
‘I see you unders
tand me now. Well?’
‘I hardly know what to say.’ Honora was having trouble making her lips move, so tightly had her face frozen. Not in a hundred years would she have thought Isaac would take Charlotte’s absurd request seriously, yet there he was, watching her unblinkingly and waiting for her reply. ‘This isn’t something I ever expected.’
‘Nor I. But you heard the doctor as well as I did. Anything to soothe Charlotte’s mind might help her—knowing she needn’t worry about Christopher’s future could help her rest more easily. In truth, I can see her reasoning.’
‘Can you?’ She heard the disbelief in her voice and was surprised to see Isaac’s mouth twist in a bleak, humourless smile.
‘Can’t you? Think of it. Charlotte knows I’d do my best for Christopher, but I couldn’t guess where to begin raising a baby on my own. With you here he would be loved almost as if he were your own—and we would have to marry to make the arrangement above all suspicion. No doubt for Charlotte there’s the added appeal of knowing I wouldn’t be left to rattle round this big old house alone without her if I had a wife. Did you know she’s always wanted me to marry?’
‘No...’
‘She has. Interfering little miss.’ He looked down at his hands. They were clasped together in front of him in the same praying motion he’d adopted that fateful night at the inn when his lips had first met Honora’s and set her running down a course she’d never dreamed of. That had been the first time she’d seen a glimpse of the real man behind the confident façade, a man with real feelings and the ability to love, and now as she gazed at his downcast face she felt something tug at her heart.
This is folly. We shouldn’t waste a moment talking of it. And yet...
The tugging at Honora’s heart grew stronger as she watched him sit so quietly, so obviously in the greatest of pain. Isaac loved Charlotte as a daughter and the idea of her slipping away must be agony. No wonder he grasped at the slightest of hopes for her salvation, even if it meant going against his own firmly entrenched beliefs.
‘But you don’t want a wife. You told me that yourself only weeks ago.’
‘That was before I faced a situation where, unless I marry, I cannot win. There are two outcomes I can see. The first: my marriage soothes Charlotte’s worries for the future of her son and her contentment allows her to recover. The second: she is lost to me, but her final hours were peaceful and I have a wife to act as a mother of sorts to my heir, a child I would otherwise be hopeless to know how to raise.’ He looked up at her, so wounded and despairing it made Honora flinch. ‘I know it’s no romantic proposition. I know you deserve more than this. But I ask you, in all humility, to consider. You would have a home here and a family of your own, and that’s more than awaits you if you were to return to Somerset. Perhaps there’s something in that you might accept. You would be valued and cared for and my gratitude would be deep as an ocean.’
Honora felt her chest tighten as Isaac’s words hit her like a shower of broken glass, each one stinging in its undeniable truth. Because he was right: nothing waited for her in Somerset but a tumbledown house no longer her own and the ghosts of past regrets that wouldn’t leave her be. Mary was there, that was true, a staunch friend and until recently the only one Honora had, but she was busy with her husband and sons and the new baby just arrived, and she had enough to attend to without anyone else added to her burden. Honora recalled her ache not to be alone any longer when Charlotte had invited her for Christmas and how pleased she had been to accept. At Marlow Manor she could do some real good, a comfort to Charlotte and maternal figure for Christopher—and as for Isaac...
It was pointless to deny her feelings for him any longer. Ever since she’d seen the kindness inside him, his ability to care for those other than himself, the danger of her falling under his spell had grown in strength and now there was no question that she had succumbed. His face was handsome and his title might impress some, but it was the light in his soul that called to Honora and made hers cry out in return.
I was so determined never to rely on a man again. I was so sure I’d never return to the position Frank reduced me to—but in my heart I know this is different.
Becoming Isaac’s wife would be nothing like shackling herself to Frank and Honora’s lip could have twisted at the thought. There was a world of difference between the two men, but more than that Frank had married her for what he could gain, while Isaac’s offer would benefit her as much as himself. She would be acting out of mercy for Charlotte, compassion for little Christopher and sympathy for Isaac, and she knew no better motive than to help others in their darkest hour. In turn she would be saved from a life of poverty and disgrace and above all given her greatest wish: a family around her with no secrets or deceit.
The idea of losing Charlotte filled Honora’s veins with ice and she still couldn’t look the possibility full in the face. If there was anything she could do, surely she ought to attempt it? With a strange quiver in her stomach she looked again at the swaying greenery above where she sat, aware of Isaac’s eyes upon her, but suddenly unable to meet them.
‘I’m not a fool, Honora.’ He spoke quietly. ‘I know in my heart Charlotte won’t survive this suffering. I failed her and now I must watch her die...but can you see why I’d try anything to save her? No matter how absurd it might sound?’
‘Yes. I can understand.’
Gathering all her courage, Honora lifted her chin and looked in Isaac’s face. It was pale, exhausted—and the most dear to her, a fact that had crept up so gradually she hardly knew when it had begun. From a condescending, intolerable lord to a thoughtful, vulnerable man, Isaac’s transformation was uncanny, or perhaps it was she who had changed, the walls she’d built around her heart since Frank’s betrayal blinding her to what had been before her very nose.
She set her shoulders and straightened her back. Ma would have been proud to see her posture and Pa her steady hands, she thought with a stab of wistful yearning, as Honora took a breath and leapt with senseless daring into the unknown.
‘Very well. I accept. Will you shake to make it binding?’
Honora saw Isaac’s quick look: relief, gratitude and a hint of wariness she well understood. The same feeling stirred inside her, until the faintest gleam of amusement in those brown eyes made her pause.
‘Another bargain to be sealed with a handshake? We’re to be married, Honora. I think we ought to be less businesslike in our dealings with each other than two farmers agreeing the sale of a horse.’
‘Well? What do you suggest instead?’
His gaze flickered upwards and she followed it, coming to rest on the bunch of mistletoe hanging from the light above their heads. At once her stomach flipped, an uncomfortably gymnastic movement she couldn’t control.
‘A more suitable symbol of agreement than a handshake, considering we’re to be husband and wife. Wouldn’t you agree? After all...’ He stopped, as if speaking was a sudden effort that caused him great pain. ‘Considering how much time Charlotte spent on these decorations I wouldn’t want them to go to waste. I don’t know that she will ever see another Christmas.’
Honora swallowed—but then she found she had nodded and her legs had unfolded to bear her up, and she was standing before Isaac beneath the mistletoe before she truly understood what she was doing. All she could think was the strangeness of it. On one hand a tragedy, while on the other sparks lit her from within as Isaac gently cupped her cheek and tilted her face up to meet his, more tender than she’d ever known him before and the emotion in his eye something that couldn’t be faked. Perhaps it was the magic of the Christmas mistletoe or the severity of the situation, but as Honora and Isaac clung together, giving and taking with questing lips, neither seemed to want to let go. They were tied now, for good or ill—both twined together in Honora’s mind so tightly it was impossible to separate the two.
* * *
Isaac hated himself
as he took Honora’s hand and helped her from his carriage on their return from church, the hastily procured wedding band shining on her finger. For the princely sum of a few shillings he had secured a common licence allowing them to marry only two days after Charlotte had given birth, now the day before Christmas Eve, and with Honora as his wife his gratitude to her was eclipsed only by his guilt.
You deceitful, conniving wretch.
He’d made up his mind to tell her before everything had gone so spectacularly wrong, unable to bear the weight of concealment any longer. Watching Honora tend Charlotte with such care and kindness had driven a spike of pain into his gut. How could he keep secrets from her now, when her goodness was so deserving of the truth? His respect for her, already snaking upwards like a vine, had long since twined itself around his heart—alongside feelings for his new wife that were something altogether different.
But I didn’t tell her, so wildly did events go awry, and after Charlotte’s request all good sense seemed to desert me.
He chanced a glance at Honora, walking beside him up the snow-laden steps of Marlow Manor. Her head was high and she moved with the same purpose as always, but there was a subtle tinge to her cheeks and when she returned his look he saw something linger in the depths of her fine hazel eyes.
‘You look troubled. Don’t tell me you’re regretting this already.’
Isaac shook his head, realising with a jolt it was apprehension he saw in her expression. How could she think any man would regret taking her as his wife? Any with a particle of sense would know how lucky he was to have found such a woman and therein lay the trouble.
A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell Page 15
