She had always been a biddable and loving daughter, doing exactly what her parents wished her to do in all matters save this one. Isabel had been steadfast in her resolve that she would not entertain thoughts of any suitor except for her beloved Alexander.
Her father’s face turned slightly red and he stood, his breakfast now forgotten as he set the letter down in front of her. “You will do this,” he said, his voice angry. “I have already replied to his letter and granted him the permission he seeks. Are you forgetting that cousin William is the heir to this estate? What should become of your mother and you if I should depart this earthly world and you are not yet wed to a proper gentleman with enough money to take care of you?”
“But father . . . ,” Isabel wailed.
He raised his hand to stop his daughter’s protests. “He will be here before the end of the week, so, I suggest, dear daughter, that you start accepting this destiny that your cousin and I have so graciously bestowed upon you.” Giving his wife an abrupt nod of his head, Isabel’s father strode out of the breakfast room.
“Oh, Isabel,” her mother sighed as Isabel picked up the letter with trembling hands and read.
Dearest cousin,
I trust this finds you and your family well.
I am writing to you as I am finally ready to return to England. I have been very successful in my endeavors in India and long to return home and settle down, find a wife and have a family. I think often of the happiness you have found which leads me to fondly remember your lovely daughter, Isabel.
I am most anxious to become reacquainted with cousin Isabel as, by my calculation, she would now be of marrying age and I am in need of a wife.
I should therefore like to I implore you, dear cousin, to grant me permission to court the beautiful Isabel. I am confident that such a match would be of mutual benefit as it would allow Isabel to remain forever in her childhood home should anything happen to you. Although I pray that time is still many years away, my friend.
I would also like to assure you that when your lands pass legally to me, I shall ensure your widow’s comfort and safety for the remainder of her days on the property as well.
I shall look forward to your response.
It was signed with William’s bold signature.
Isabel flung the letter aside and stood, glaring at her mother. “What a pompous ass!”
“Isabel! Language!” Mrs. Wyndham jumped to her feet and closed the door to the next room lest the servants, or worse, Mr. Wyndham, hear Isabel’s outburst.
“At what turn do I get a say in my own life?” she asked softly, tears threatening her eyes. “Why do you wish me to be unhappy?”
“We do not wish you to be unhappy, Isabel,” her mother replied, softening slightly. “Of course we wish you to be happy. I believe you can be with William. You must give him a chance, my dear.”
Isabel walked quickly to the door, her mother’s words trailing behind her as she hurried out of the room.
Chapter 2
Lord Alexander, the Viscount St. John, strode into his mother’s formal parlor and took a seat on the delicate settee, still tired from his late night return home. His ship had docked two days later than scheduled and he had been forced to ride all night just to make it to his family’s estate. Now, he awaited the barrage of questions that his mother was certain to pose.
“Tea?” she asked, holding up a steaming pot. He nodded and she poured them both a cup, adding cubes of sugar just like he had always preferred, before handing him a cup.
Alexander took the cup and sipped on the brew gently, relishing the warmth and sweetness. While tea was a normal morning pastime here, on the ship it was a delicacy, running out far before their mission was complete. Once that happened, they had no choice but to resort to boiled coffee so thick Alexander was convinced it could be used as tar to repair the deck of the ship.
They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the quietness of the morning. His mother cleared her throat and looked at him over the rim of her cup, her keen eyes assessing him. “Are you home for good now, Alexander? How long do we have the enjoyment of your company?”
Alexander swallowed the sweet brew and set his cup back on the saucer gently. “I’m only here for a short visit, Mother. I have been promoted to Lieutenant and will be sailing with Admiral Nelson on the next ship from Portsmouth. There is still much to do in the campaign against France, and now also the Spanish.”
He could see the gleam in her eye swiftly shift to sadness at this news. He did not wish to disappoint his parents further, but he believed in what he was doing and was proud to have earned the rank of Lieutenant. For years, he had toiled under the tutelage of some of the most decorated officers in the naval league, learning the trade as well as proving to them that he was not just another heir that had purchased a commission. Slowly, he rose through the ranks and shortly before he was due to land in his home port he had been awarded a commission on merit.
Although his career was developing nicely, he had decided that this mission would be his last. He yearned to return home to the peaceful countryside and leave the harsh, unforgiving sea behind. He wanted a wife and a family. He wanted Isabel.
“I plan to call on Isabel on the morrow,” he announced. “I would like to wed her before I depart. If we are lucky, when I return from my final commission, we will have already made you and father grandparents.” Alexander blushed at expressing such an indelicate sentiment to his mother.
Lady Hertford paused, her cup frozen in mid-air, halfway to her lips. She returned the cup to its saucer without taking a sip. “Did you not hear?”
“Hear what, mother?” Has something happened to Isabel? He had heard no news from home this past many months and it was easy to assume that everything had remained as it was while he was away.
“I understand that Isabel is betrothed,” his mother replied, lowering her eyes so as not to make direct eye contact with her only son. He could always detect when she was not quite telling the complete truth. While Lady Hertford was aware that Mr. Wyndham’s distasteful second cousin was pleading with Isabel to become his bride, the last she was aware, Isabel had still not capitulated. “I know that you were close to her when you were children, Alexander, but she was never going to make a suitable wife for you. Her family was not of the peerage.”
Isabel was engaged to be married? Alexander attempted to hide his shock at the news, his throat suddenly tight. The entire time he was at sea, as ten feet waves were rolling over the ship and he battled the frigid cold and seasickness, the danger of enemy canons, his thoughts of Isabel kept him sane and determined to fight through the despair and fear. Only dreams of returning home to take her in his arms, sit by the fire and watch their children at play on the floor by their feet, gave him the strength to carry on.
“I must speak to her,” he said more to himself than his mother.
“No, you mustn’t, Alexander,” his mother cautioned. “It would be most improper to call upon a young woman who is betrothed to another.”
Alexander’s tone suddenly changed, accusing his mother, “I wanted to seek her father’s permission for her hand when I returned from Eton. You told me we were too young and that there would be plenty of time.”
“Alexander . . . ,” Lady Hertford wrung her hands as she tried to calm her son who was now becoming quite agitated.
“Then when father tried to stop me from joining my classmates in defense of our country, I had to leave quickly with no time to speak to Isabel, to tell her to wait for me.”
The Countess pounced on this opportunity. “If she loved you, you would not have to ask her to wait. She would have waited for you on her own.”
Her words were like a slap and she could see that she may have pushed her son too far. He stormed towards the door.
“Wait, Alexander,” she said. “I only want to see you happy, you know that. Lady Charlotte is currently in residence. She is a lovely girl and would be a far more suitable wife for you as the fu
ture Earl of Hertford. Perhaps you should call on her.”
Alexander did not care one whit about Lady Charlotte. He only cared about Isabel, the woman he was destined to marry and would have married if he had not ignored her during his last visit. Those had been dark days after he’d returned from Eton and was fighting with his parents for his right to lead his own life and make his own decisions.
“You were the one who advised me to wait,” he said through clenched teeth, anger seeping through in his voice. “Now I have lost her forever.”
A heavy sigh escaped his lungs as he left the room, thinking of how long he had been gone. Should he really blame his mother? He had been demanding his freedom to make his own decisions at that time, yet did not take a stand regarding one of the most important decisions of his life.
No wonder Isabel had given up on him, thinking that he was not going to return home to wed her and seeking solace in another man. While he was saddened, Alexander could not very well blame her. He was left only to hope that whomever she deemed as a worthy husband would treat her as she deserved.
Chapter 3
Alexander straightened his coat as he stood in the receiving line with his parents, glad that he was in his uniform at least, something comforting and familiar. True to form, his mother had invited what seemed to be half of London to the celebration, though apparently had kept his return a secret until this very night. Alexander had accepted hearty congratulations from numerous guests, all genuinely surprised to see him in attendance. A few he recognized, many he didn’t, but nevertheless a success for his mother.
The ballroom was alive with candles and roses, the smell a bit overpowering in the heat as he waited for the line to end and his duty to be concluded. A lively band struck up a reel as the dancers whirled about the polished floor, numerous palettes of colors present from both the young and old.
“The Marquess of Warwickshire and Lady Charlotte,” the next announcement rang out.
Alexander turned toward the top of the stairs and took in the woman that his mother wanted him to become acquainted with. She was indeed beautiful, her pale blonde hair and striking blue eyes standing out against the creamy complexion of her skin but enhanced by a dress blush in color. Diamonds were drizzled around her throat and throughout her hair, catching the candlelight as she walked toward the receiving line. He took in her practiced smile and curtsy as she stood before his parents, her father jovially shaking hands with his.
“Lady Charlotte,” his mother said proudly as she turned to Alexander. “This is my son, Alexander.”
“Lady Charlotte,” he responded bending over her proffered hand. “I am fortunate to make your acquaintance.”
“My lord,” she replied daintily, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Welcome home.”
“Alexander is home naught but for a few days,” his mother added. “But numerous times has he expressed a desire to meet you.”
Alexander fought the urge to cut a look in his mother’s direction upon her stretching of the truth.
“I am flattered,” the young woman replied, her lips pursing in a smile. “Shall we dance later, my lord? I shall save a spot on my dance card as it will fill quite quickly, I’m afraid.”
Alexander was taken aback by her boldness, surprised that she was so forward regarding her popularity amongst the ton. There was more to her than just a beautiful face, he surmised, which was precisely what a woman might require when dealing with the rigors of society. “I would be honored, of course,” he dutifully responded.
She offered him a coy smile before she moved on to the ballroom.
“Wonderful!” his mother replied as he watched Lady Charlotte become surrounded immediately by a bevy of eligible young men. “She is positively delightful, is she not? She will be a perfect countess for you, my dear.”
“Do not move to marry us just yet, Mother,” Alexander replied with a hint of a smile. “I have only just met the woman.”
“Oh posh,” his mother beamed as the earl reached for her elbow to escort her down to the ballroom. “Arrangements have been made more quickly than that. Dance with her, but do not tarry too long. Someone will have Lady Charlotte betrothed before the end of the season and it may as well be you, Alexander.”
Isabel pulled in the deepest breath she could manage against her stays as the carriage pulled up to the Hertford estate. She smiled politely at her parents, while inside willing the notion to return to her room and hide instead of spending an evening avoiding the attention of a man she’d had no option but to tolerate for longer than she had already cared to. William had arrived several weeks prior as the same man she remembered from the past, with no indication that he had made any changes during his time in India. Well, none aside from his growing waistline. He was well over fifteen stone now while shorter in height than her, his waistcoat tight as he greeted her with a leer the day he had arrived. “Just as lovely as I thought she would be,” he had said, his wet lips kissing the back of her hand. “I am a fortunate man, indeed.”
Isabel shivered as she recalled the moment. She remembered that she had fought not to wipe her hand on her skirts and now, for weeks, she had been subjected to spending time with him after dinner, entertaining him and her parents with her skills at the pianoforte and reading poetry. She detested every moment. Tonight, she hoped, would at least be a small reprieve from his constant attention as she planned to escape into the crowd until it was time to depart. She did find it slightly disconcerting to attend a dance in the home of Alexander’s parents which she found peculiar since he was away in the navy. One of the villagers had heard the event was to be a charitable occasion to raise money to send blankets, food and tea to the midshipmen. At least that would make her feel a little closer to Alexander.
Her parents exited the carriage first, then William, his pudgy hand reaching out to help her down out of the carriage. “I did not tell you how lovely you look tonight Isabel,” he said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I see you are wearing my gift.” Isabel conjured up a faint smile as she fingered the gaudy stone at her neck. It was garishly large, strung along a gold necklace that hung low into her décolletage. Her mother had demanded she wear it, even though it clashed with the blue ball gown she had chosen to wear. It felt like a noose around her neck, growing tighter with each passing moment.
They strode into the ballroom fashionably late. Due to the length of the receiving line, they chose to move directly to the ballroom floor. Isabel forced her smile as William maneuvered them through the crush of people, hoping desperately that he had picked up some pointers on his dancing while in India lest she be the one leaving tonight with bruised feet and a torn dress.
As she looked about the room for a familiar face, Isabel sought out the Earl and the Countess of Hertford at the fringe of the dance floor, her heart aching slightly at the familiar features of their faces. Alexander was the spitting image of the Earl and she had always imagined their first son would have similar traits, though all of that was now in the past. She wasn’t going to be marrying Alexander or having children with him. Instead, according to her parents, her future lay with the man who was pulling her in the direction of the Earl and Countess.
“Isabel,” the Earl said warmly as they approached the couple. “I am pleased to see you in attendance tonight.”
“You are looking lovely Isabel,” the Countess smiled politely, her eyes straying to the necklace. “What a lovely piece of jewelry.” Her raised eyebrows betrayed her true impression of the garish piece.
“Nothing but the best for my gem,” William replied before Isabel could utter a weak acknowledgement of the insincere compliment. “The moment I laid eyes on that stone, I knew that my Isabel must have it.”
“How lovely,” the Countess said. “I understand that congratulations are in order?”
Isabel cringed, wanting to shout to the entire ballroom no, that she was not marrying the buffoon next to her. But that would be highly improper to do so. Her fate had be
en sealed.
“They are soon to be, your ladyship,” William leaned in and whispered conspiratorially as Lady Hertford took a step back to avoid his acrid breath.
Turning to the Earl, William said, “Say, I noticed that those candles throughout your rooms are rather cheaply made. In India, we only used the finest beeswax to dip our candles. I can get you some if you would like.”
Isabel was mortified. She could hardly believe William was insulting the Earl’s ability to procure fine candles.
Alexander’s father, having not missed Isabel’s wince of embarrassment, offered her a sympathetic glance. “That is a kind gesture,” the Earl said finally to William, clearing his throat. “I shall have my valet look into it.” He turned his attention to Isabel. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Isabel. I do hope you enjoy your evening with us,” he offered with a compassionate smile before turning to his wife. “Shall we move on, dear?”
“Yes, of course,” the Countess replied, her eyes still on Isabel’s necklace. “Nice to see you, dear,” she directed to Isabel, finally making eye contact.
“My lord, my lady,” Isabel muttered, extricating her arm from William’s. The moment they turned, she focused her attention on the boor next to her. “What made you think to take in the state of their candles?”
William looked around, pointing at the nearest chandelier that was loaded with the candles. “See how they smoke? Why, I would have assumed the Earl would only use the finest materials and I wanted to be quick to point out that he hadn’t.”
Isabel blew out a frustrated breath and shook her head. He does not even comprehend how inappropriate his behavior is. She simply cannot do this. She wanted to go home and burrow under her covers, forgetting that she might be legally wed to the man who thought his opinion on the quality of candles was an appropriate conversation to have with an Earl!
The Earl's Desire Page 2
