by Anna Bradley
It was strange and wonderful, how things had all come right in the end…
But it hadn’t come right. Not for everyone. If Hugh had accompanied Lady Juliana into the hallway, he might have seen her smile fade as soon as she closed the door behind her. He might have seen the way she squeezed her eyes closed and leaned back against the door, as if gathering her strength before she crossed to the entryway with halting steps, and slowly mounted the staircase to her father’s bedchamber.
Chapter Twenty-four
By the time Hugh made his way to the stables and saddled his horse, it was far too late at night for any decent gentleman to present himself at a lady’s door. That didn’t stop him from riding like a demon to Huntington Lodge and pounding his fist on Isla’s until a startled butler appeared and led him to the drawing room.
There he found Lord Huntington reading and sipping at a glass of port, and Lachlan and Ciaran Ramsey arguing over a chess board. They received him as one might expect to be received at such an inconvenient hour—with varying degrees of surprise, curiosity, and irritation.
“Pierce?” Lord Huntington tossed his book aside and rose to his feet. “What are you doing here? Is something amiss at Hazelwood?”
“No, no. Nothing. I—”
I’m madly in love with your sister, and I’m praying she’s jilted her betrothed.
It didn’t seem the best way to start. How he should start, Hugh hadn’t the least idea, but he opened his mouth and hoped something appropriate might come out.
Ciaran Ramsey saved him the trouble. “What the devil is going on, Pierce? First, we’ve had this vexing business with Sydney, and now here you are in the middle of the night, only half-dressed and with your hair all askew, looking like some sort of deranged suitor.”
Lachlan Ramsey pushed his chair back from the game table and strolled to the sideboard. He poured a measure of port into a glass and offered it to Hugh. “I can only guess Isla’s the cause for this sudden parade of agitated gentlemen. Well, let’s have it then, Pierce. What’s she done this time?”
“She hasn’t done a thing,” Hugh said, accepting the glass. “That is, I’d prefer to speak to her first, if I could.”
Lord Huntington shook his head. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow. She’s already retired for the evening. We’ve, ah…well, we’ve had a bit of excitement today.”
“What sort of excitement?” Had Isla jilted Lord Sydney, then? Hugh’s heart began to pound with hope.
“I don’t know that you’d call it exciting, so much as tedious,” Ciaran grumbled. “Isla’s gone and jilted Sydney, or Sydney’s jilted Isla. I can’t make out which, and damned if Isla will explain it. So now here we are, all in an uproar.”
They were in an uproar? Hugh’s heart had just skipped a beat, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He gaped at Ciaran, then he raised his glass to his lips and downed his drink in one swallow. “Did Miss Ramsey say why she jilted him?”
Ciaran snorted. “No, she didn’t, but we’re only the men of the family, aren’t we? No one tells us a bloody thing.”
Lachlan frowned at his brother. “She did try to explain, but she was upset. It didn’t make much sense.”
“Women never make sense.” Ciaran slid his rook across the chess board, then gave his brother a sly grin. “Check.”
Lachlan rolled his eyes. “It’s not even your turn, you bounder!”
Ciaran’s grin widened. “No, but this is the only way I can win.”
“For God’s sakes, Ciaran. You’re worse than a child.” Lachlan crossed the room and plucked the pieces off the board. “It’s odd, though,” he added, once he’d returned the chess set to its wooden box. “Isla didn’t behave at all like a lady who’s just jilted her betrothed, or been jilted by him. She didn’t cry, and she told us she didn’t regret it. She said she was relieved.”
Ciaran scowled. “Well, Sydney was downright ecstatic. Demanded Finn’s coach, then flew out of here as if he’d just gnawed his leg free of a bear trap. All smiles, too. It was the damndest thing I ever saw.”
Lord Huntington raised an eyebrow at Ciaran. “Yes, it was rather curious, though I don’t see why you’re so cross about it, Ciaran. It wasn’t you who was jilted.”
“I’m cross because love and betrothals and courtship are already tiresome enough without adding all this nonsense on top of it. Why should Isla have jilted him, anyway? I like Sydney. He’s a good fellow.”
Lord Huntington shook his head. “She told us why she jilted him—because she doesn’t love him. He is a good fellow, yes, but he doesn’t love Isla. That is, not in the way a man should love a woman he intends to make his wife.”
Ciaran threw his hands up in the air. “Well, why did he make her an offer, then? And why did she accept him? They were both happy enough with the betrothal last week, but now we’ve all this nonsense about love getting in the way of it. None of it makes any sense.”
“Yes, I confess I do wonder what might have happened to make Isla change her mind.” Lord Huntington fixed Hugh with a hard stare. “Perhaps Pierce here can shed some light on the mystery.”
“Well, Pierce?” Ciaran quirked an eyebrow at Hugh. “Let’s have it, then.”
Hugh glanced from Ciaran to Lachlan, and back to Lord Huntington, then folded his arms over his chest. Isla’s brothers would just have to remain in suspense until he’d had a chance to speak to Isla herself. “No. Not a single word, gentlemen. Not until I’ve spoken to Miss Ramsey.”
Ciaran huffed out a breath. “Devil take you, Pierce. Give him some more liquor, Lach. That’ll loosen his tongue.”
“Never mind the port. There’s only one way to put an end to this nonsense.” Lord Huntington crossed the room and pulled the bell for a servant. “We’ll let him see Isla.”
* * * *
“I beg your pardon, Lady Huntington, Lady Ramsey, but Lord Pierce is here to see Miss Isla.”
Hyacinth and Iris had sent Isla to bed several hours ago. They’d been closeted together in Iris’s private sitting room since then, deep in consultation over the worrying events of the day, but now both of them turned at once to stare at the maid, Sarah, who was hovering in the doorway.
“What, now? Lord Pierce is here right now?” Hyacinth shook her head, certain she must have misheard.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, my lady. Lord Huntington sent me up to fetch Miss Isla, but she’s not—”
“Lord Pierce is here, and Lord Huntington has given his permission for him to see Isla?” Hyacinth shot Iris a startled glance. “But it’s the middle of the night! You must be mistaken, Sarah.”
Sarah shook her head, her brown eyes wide. “No, Lady Ramsey. I saw Lord Pierce myself, in the drawing room with the other gentlemen.”
Iris stared at Sarah, then turned back to Hyacinth. “For pity’s sake, this has been the oddest day imaginable.”
“It has, indeed, but think of it, Iris.” Hyacinth grasped Iris’s hands, a smile curving her lips. “Lord Pierce can have only one reason to appear on our doorstep at this hour. No gentleman races to a lady’s house in the middle of the night to tell her he still can’t marry her, does he?”
Iris’s eyes went wide. “No. No, of course, he doesn’t. Something must have happened. Quickly, Sarah! Go fetch Miss Isla.”
“But that’s just it, my lady. Miss Isla isn’t—”
“Oh, dear. What’s the proper attire for a nighttime call?” Iris rose and gave Sarah a gentle push toward the door. “Go to Miss Isla’s room at once, Sarah, and help her into a gown. Never mind the corset—there isn’t time. I’ll go and inform his lordship she’s on her way down.”
Sarah’s hands fluttered helplessly in the air. “My lady, I’m afraid you don’t understand. Miss Isla isn’t—”
“Send Finn and Lachlan and Ciaran away, while you’re at it, Iris,” Hyacinth called, as Iris made her way toward the
door. “The last thing Isla wants is those three hanging about offering their opinions, particularly Ciaran. Sarah? What are you still doing here? Quickly now, make haste. We don’t want Miss Isla to keep Lord Pierce waiting.”
Sarah was twisting her apron between her hands. “That’s what I came here to tell you, my lady. Miss Isla isn’t in her bedchamber.”
Iris turned, her hand still on the doorknob. “Not in her bedchamber? Well, where is she, then?”
“I don’t know! I’ve looked everywhere I can think of for her, my lady—her bedchamber, Lady Ramsey’s parlor, the library—but she’s nowhere to be found.” Sarah’s voice rose dramatically. “Miss Isla is gone!”
* * * *
Hazelwood’s rows of windows looked different at night.
Isla stood at the edge of the woods, Sophie’s reins in her hands, and stared up at those dark windows, just as she’d done so many times since she came to Huntington Lodge.
There was no light behind them, no movement. They looked like the same blank, glassy eyes they’d always been.
Yet they weren’t. Everything had changed since the last time she’d stood under those cold, unblinking eyes, her heart numb with misery. Now she knew Hugh was there, on the other side of one of those windows, looking down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
He couldn’t see her now, of course. She shouldn’t be here at all, so she’d taken care to keep to the shadows. Hugh would find only darkness on the other side of his window tonight. But even though he couldn’t see her, she knew he was there, behind the glass, thinking of her, and it made all the difference.
Isla pressed her face into Sophie’s neck, and the horse whinnied softly in response. She couldn’t linger. Her brothers would be furious if they found out she’d left Huntington Lodge so late at night, but she hadn’t been able to stay away.
Just once, she’d wanted to look up at those windows and know he was in there, somewhere, and that he loved her. Just this one time, she needed to be here and feel her heart swell with love instead of grief.
One time, that was all. It was enough. For both her own sake and Hugh’s, she wouldn’t come here again.
“Come on, Sophie,” she whispered against the horse’s neck. “Let’s go home.”
She tugged gently on Sophie’s reins to turn her head toward the road. She slid one foot into the stirrup, but she didn’t mount. Something made her pause, then go still. A sound, perhaps, or a sense someone was approaching. A shift in the air around her.
She heard him before she saw him. The faint thud of his horse’s hooves, growing more distinct as he drew closer, until a shape detached itself from the surrounding darkness and he emerged.
Isla’s breath caught at the sight of him. He was disheveled, his dark hair mussed. He wasn’t wearing a waistcoat or a cravat, and his boots were covered with mud.
To her, he’d never looked more beautiful.
They stared at each other, neither one of them speaking, until Hugh swung himself down from his saddle and took a few hesitant steps toward her. “Lady Ramsey said I’d find you here.”
“Hyacinth?” Had he been to Huntington Lodge?
“I’ve just come from seeing your brothers,” he murmured, answering her unspoken question. “They were…surprised I’d call on you so late, but I couldn’t stay away, Isla.” He drew closer to her and took her hands in his. “I saw Lord Sydney leave this afternoon, and I had to know if you’d asked him to go. Your brothers told me you’ve jilted him.”
Isla shook her head. “No, that’s not so. No one jilted anyone. Lord Sydney and I agreed to end our betrothal, and we parted the best of friends. He’s fallen in love with someone else, and…” Isla gripped Hugh’s fingers in hers. “And so have I. A marriage between us seemed unwise, under the circumstances.”
Hugh searched her eyes. “Are you all right? I know you care for him. It can’t be pleasant to hear your betrothed has fallen in love with another. Did he hurt your feelings, Isla?”
He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for her answer, and Isla couldn’t keep herself from laying her hand against his cheek. “No. Sydney deserves only good things. I sent him back to his love with a joyful heart and a prayer for his perfect happiness. I believe he’s found it, and I couldn’t wish for anything else for him.”
He turned his face and pressed a tiny kiss into her palm. “You deserve perfect happiness, as well, Isla.”
She let out a soft sigh.
There was a time when she would have disagreed with him. James Baird, the tragic events that caused them to flee their home in Scotland, her mother’s death—there was a time she believed she was to blame for all of it. She’d carried that burden of guilt and pain with her everywhere, until it became a part of her.
James Baird had stolen something from her, and she’d always grieve for that part of herself she’d lost, but it no longer poisoned her heart. It couldn’t anymore. She held so much love there now, there was no room for blame and regrets.
Hugh had given her that.
“Oh, Hugh. I do deserve perfect happiness, just as you do. But you’ve made promises to Grace, and to Lady Juliana—”
“She jilted me.”
He caught and held her gaze, his dark eyes burning with love and desire, and something else…something Isla had never seen before when he looked at her.
Hope.
Her heart began an insistent pounding against her ribs. “I… What?”
Hugh shook his head, and a smile crossed his lips. “Lady Juliana jilted me.”
Isla blinked up at him. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and for a moment she simply couldn’t make sense of it. “She jilted you?”
“Yes, for the Duke of Blackmore. Apparently, she’s known him since they were children, and they’ve always been intended for each other. The rest of the story was a bit convoluted, but it ended with her jilting me. Lady Juliana says she loves the duke, and her father wants the match. It seems Lord Graystone insists upon having a duchess in the family.”
Hugh was smiling down at her, looking happy indeed for a gentleman who’d just been jilted, but Isla was so shocked she couldn’t say a word.
When she remained silent, his brows drew together. He took her by the shoulders. “Isla? Did you hear me? I’m no longer betrothed to Lady Juliana. I’ve no obligation to her anymore.”
Isla was shaking her head, dazed. “But what of Grace? I thought you—”
“I’ll see Grace as often as I wish, for as long as I wish. Lady Juliana and her father have promised it, and there’s no longer any danger Lord Graystone will turn Grace over to Lord Cowden. She’ll live with Lady Juliana, and the duke will be appointed as her guardian. All Graystone wanted was for Lady Juliana to marry. He never cared that she marry me. Indeed, he could hardly contain his glee over his daughter exchanging a mere marquess for a far loftier duke.”
“I can’t believe it.” As it all began to sink in, an uncontrollable trembling overwhelmed Isla. She did believe she deserved perfect happiness, and yet to believe it and have it suddenly offered to you when you’d given it up as hopeless were two very different things.
Dear God, she was going to swoon.
“You’re shaking.” Hugh wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his chest. “It’s a shock, I know, but a happy one, I hope.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she buried her face against his chest. “Nothing in the world could make me happier.”
He held her for long, quiet moments, but when she lifted her face for a kiss, he pulled gently away. Before Isla could protest, he sank to his knees before her and took her hand.
“Isla Ramsey. The first time I saw you, you were wearing a yellow gown, and you were so bright and beautiful I thought all of London too small to contain you. The first time I talked to you, you scolded me until my ears burned, and I wanted to
kiss you. The first time we danced, I knew no other lady belonged in my arms, and from the first moment we kissed, I’ve belonged only to you. I’ve loved you from the start, and I will love you to the end. Will you consent to be my wife, and make me the happiest of men?”
Isla brushed away tears, then cradled his cheeks in her hands. “Hugh Courtney. The first time I saw you, I thought you were terribly handsome and terribly proper, and in need of a good scolding.”
Hugh laughed, pulled her closer, and pressed his cheek against her stomach.
Isla sank her hands into his hair. “But from the first, I knew there was a great deal more to you than you were willing to reveal. At first, I called it unruliness, but as I grew to know you, I recognized it for what it was—passion, bravery, and kindness. Hidden under those proper waistcoats and pressed cravats, I found the most tender, loving heart I’ve ever known. I love you madly, and nothing could give me more joy than spending my life with you.”
She felt his shoulders move in a deep sigh, and she understood at once what he felt. These were promises they’d wanted to make to each other for months, but they never thought they’d get a chance.
He rose then, laid a gentle hand on the back of her neck, and dropped soft, light kisses over her eyes, her cheeks, and, at last, her lips. She clung to him, her fingertips curling into his shirt, and opened her mouth under his. Hugh groaned and surged inside, his tongue invading every corner of her mouth until at last he tore his lips away with a quiet sigh of defeat.
“If I don’t stop kissing you now, I won’t ever stop, and I doubt your brothers would appreciate it if I debauch their sister in the middle of the woods at midnight.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, they can be difficult about that sort of thing.”
As if he were unable to resist, he took her lips again in a hard kiss. “I think a short betrothal is in order. I’ve waited long enough to make you mine.”
