Then she turned to Lord Revere. “Thank you, sir, for your assistance. But I beg of you to escort my sister and aunt back to the party.”
Isobel was discomforted by the intense way he studied her. Finally, he nodded his head and started for the door, gathering her aunt and sister along the way.
Now I am alone.
Isobel's head dropped to her chest as she sighed. The tears came again, but this time she did not fight them. She began to cry out all the frustration of her disappointment and bruised pride.
* * * * *
Lord Revere had obeyed Izzy and brought them back out to the ballroom though Cat had noticed his reluctance. He'd politely escorted Aunt Hetty to a chair and then asked Cat to dance. She had accepted, of course, but her mind was not on the steps or the man. Cat thought, instead, of her sister sitting there in that dark room all alone. Probably crying. She wanted to run back and throw her arms around Izzy. But then she would only put on a brave face for her sister rather than getting on with being angry and upset.
Izzy's misery had been plain on her face. And Cat was miserable because there was absolutely nothing at all she could do about it. It pained her to see her sister in such distress, especially after such a triumphant entrance. Cat had never seen her sister look so confident and happy and beautiful. She knew that Isobel did not believe herself pretty, but Cat could see how the flattering dress and the fancy hairstyle had made her feel. She had begun to believe a tiny bit. She had been radiant as they entered the ballroom. But no one had been looking. Except for Lord Revere.
Cat looked now at her partner. Lord Revere was very competently performing the steps of the dance, but he made no conversation and kept glancing off in the direction of the room where they had left Izzy. Whenever he did, his brow furrowed in a look of concern.
A good sign, Cat smiled to herself. I hope he's thinking about Izzy.
As if he had heard her thoughts, Lord Revere spoke. “I hope that your sister is all right.”
“I am sure she is.”
He nodded, still distracted. “Maybe we should go and check on her, just to be sure.”
The dance came to an end and Cat curtsied to him. “Would you do that, please, Lord Revere? It would be awfully kind of you.” Cat flashed her most brilliant smile.
He bowed. “Of course, Miss Catherine.”
“Wonderful.”
Cat did not wish her sister harm, of course, but this was working out even more perfectly than she and Aunt Hetty could have planned. Lord Revere and Izzy were going to be alone together.
As he strode off, Cat returned to where Aunt Hetty was seated.
“Finished dancing already, my dear?”
“My partner was otherwise occupied…” She grinned.
“You mean?” Aunt Hetty followed Cat’s gaze. Lord Revere disappeared around a corner. “To your sister?” She raised her eyebrows with the question.
“Mmmhmm. His own suggestion, too.”
“Even better!” Aunt Hetty’s eyes flashed with delight. “Perhaps he will finally decide to kiss her.”
“Aunt!”
“Jealous, my dear? I thought we had discussed your feelings for Lord Revere.”
“I am a little jealous driven particularly evil. I have never been kissed before. But I am also happy for Izzy. But what makes you think he will kiss her?”
“Oh, my dear. You are perhaps to young to recognize it, but the look that was on Lord Revere’s face when he saw Isobel told me that he very much desires to be more than a friend to her.”
“A look?”
“He could not keep his eyes from her, which is saying something with you right by her side. I do hope that your sister has the good sense to realize how she feels and let him kiss her. I fear she may refuse and all will be lost. I suppose we shall see. In the meantime, there appears to be a very handsome young man walking this way. I do believe he is going to ask you to dance.”
Chapter 13
Miles felt a twinge of guilt as he left the dance floor. Perhaps he should stay and dance with Miss Catherine. She was the woman he intended to marry, after all. She was a very good dancer, too. He should go back. It was what the Baron of Revere should do.
But Isobel Masters would not leave his mind. Even while he was dancing, he remembered how she had looked at the top of the stairs. Each time he remembered the scene, he understood himself a little bit more. And each time his heart reached further toward her.
As Miles rounded the corner, he nearly ran into a petite form heading the other way.
“Mrs. Tremain,” he bowed and attempted to move on. He did not wish to see her now.
“Lord Revere! How fortunate that we should meet here... I was only this moment thinking of you.” She moved a step closer to him.
“You must excuse me, Mrs. Tremain,” Miles tried to be polite to his friend's wife. “I was on my way somewhere.” He bowed his head again and tried to move around her. But she stepped into his path and held her hand up against his chest to stop him.
“We are alone here, Revere. Would you not like to take advantage of the situation?” Her knowing smile disgusted Miles.
“No, thank you.” Once again he tried to move away from her without success.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“A friend needs me.” He did not want to offer any more.
“A friend! Do you by chance refer to that fat and clumsy pig you picked up off the floor earlier? How kind of you to do your duty. I am sure you made an impression on her sister. She is the one you hope to marry, is she not?”
Miles seethed.
“Isobel Masters is a better woman than you will ever be,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“You defend the silly thing?”
“Yes. And I will defend her against all that you can say. She is a good woman.”
“Look who is acting righteous! My dear Revere, I am saying nothing that you have not said yourself.”
The words stung. She spoke the truth. “I know and I was wrong.”
“A man repentant of his words and actions. I have rarely seen your kind, sir.” She twined her hands around his neck and pressed her body to his. “I think I like you even more for this show of gallantry.”
Miles grabbed her hands and removed them from his neck. He pushed her away. “Mrs. Tremain. Before this we have always been in public spots, so I have not freely spoken my mind to you. But since you have cornered me in private, I will say this to you finally: I do not want you. I never will. Even if you were not my friend's wife, I would avoid you. I would never seek you out. I have seen what a good woman looks like and you are not her. Never approach me again about this.”
He moved away before she could say anything more. His heart pounded with anger at what she'd said and all his bile rose at her proposition. Even two weeks ago he might have been that kind of man, but now... Now he wanted to be better. Not only for himself, but for her.
Her.
Miss Catherine, he must mean, of course. He was courting Miss Catherine. And he wanted to be a good man again for her. Would she think him a good man?
With this question in his mind, Miles entered the room quietly enough that she did not seem to hear him. Isobel was sitting in the chair where he had last seen her, staring into the fire. The room was warm and the soft light made her skin and red dress glow, just as he remembered from the staircase. His pulse quickened at the memory.
“Isobel?” Her proper name rolled naturally off of his tongue. He said it quietly, but it was enough to startle her. Miles saw her put her hands to her face, as if to wipe away something.
“Yes?” She barked the word at him but did not look up.
“Isobel? I...” He paused and shook his head, unsure what to say. This was outside of the realm of anything he'd ever thought to encounter in his life. Miles took a deep breath. “I... I came to check if you were all right.” It came out as a statement. She kept her face turned away.
“Isobel?” She must look at him.
Miles strode to the chair and knelt before her. But she buried her face in the wing of the chair.
“What is the matter?” Please trust me. Please. It was painful for him to know that something was wrong and to be powerless to help.
“Nothing, Lord Revere, please go away.”
“Tell me,” his voice was firm. “Please.” She flinched at the command but did not look. “Please,” he whispered. The pleading in his voice drew her gaze to him. A tear rolled down her cheek and, without thinking, he reached up to brush it away. He knew immediately it was a mistake. Not because of her reaction, but because he wanted to touch her again.
Isobel took a deep breath. By the firelight, her blue eyes were dark and sparkling with tears. An unfamiliar feeling grabbed at his heart.
She searched his face.
“What is the matter?” Miles whispered the words, unable to make a louder noise for fear of betraying himself. Tears still dripped down her face.
“They laughed at me. Again.”
Again. The sad word repeated in his head. Again. There it was to condemn him. Again. All those years ago he had been the one to laugh. And now he saw what it had done to this woman before him, what he had done by his laughter. He had never known, had never guessed that so little laughter could produce so much pain. It stabbed into his guts.
“No one was laughing, Isobel. No one was laughing this time.” But could he promise her that they were not laughing at her? Again. Society was cruel and could not stand faults, especially in a woman. He had been there to watch her eaten alive ten years ago. And now the whole nightmare was playing out again.
“Yes, they were, Lord Revere. They are always laughing at me. I am Dizzy Izzy, remember?” She laughed weakly. Her pain made him angry.
“Ignore them,” he spat out the words.
Isobel laughed again. “Do you think I haven't tried?” She looked hopeless. “For ten years I have been ignoring them. Each time I left the house, saying to myself that I would pay no heed to the whispers I thought I heard or the sideways looks. For ten years I have tried not to be the clumsy girl. But it never works. That is all they ever see.”
Miles knew it was true. That was all he had seen. But now he wanted to protect her.
“Isobel,” Miles shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “You are so much better than any of them. So much better than me...” He trailed off, his eyes dropping to the floor. Isobel let out a choked laugh.
“I am not.”
Miles looked back into her eyes and said firmly, “Yes, you are.” When she began to shake her head at him, he gave her a lopsided smile. Perhaps humor would work to cheer her up. “Yes, you are better than I am. And you know how hard that is for me to admit.” His heart flipped over when she smiled sadly at his attempt to make her laugh.
“Are they all talking about me?”
“No one is talking about you. They've quite forgotten what happened. But I wish you would come and dance anyway.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, Lord Revere, you know I do not dance.”
“I do not know that,” he gently teased her. “I have never seen you dance. That is not quite the same thing as knowing that you cannot do so.”
“You would not want to see me dance.” The humor seemed to be working. Her tears were gone and she was smiling at him.
“On the contrary, madam, I most certainly would.” Miles rose from his kneeling position and offered her his hand as if to lead her to the dance floor.
Isobel shrunk into the chair. “No, I cannot. Not tonight.”
“I insist.” He caught her eye and gave her a smile. Then firmly took her hand and drew her out of the chair. She resisted. “Just come on, Isobel. I promise I will not take you out to the ballroom.”
Isobel looked at him in confusion as he drew her to an open space in the little room they now shared. He had a plan, but he would not share it with her at the moment. He wanted desperately for her to trust him.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Miles had placed her at the edge of a rug that bordered a small, open space. He found the confused look on her face to be quite amusing. But he was comforted to see that she was staying, not running away from him.
He stepped away from her and said, “Just wait. You will see.”
Miles stepped toward Isobel again and bowed low. “Miss Isobel Masters, may I request the honor of this dance?” He gave her a comically pitiful look.
The tears now were gone as she laughed and shook her head. “Oh... if you insist.” She curtseyed to him. Miles took her hand in his as she smiled up into his eyes. She had placed her trust in him and the reward was greater than he could have imagined.
“What are we doing?” Isobel half sighed and half laughed the question.
“I thought that was obvious. We are about to dance a waltz, Miss Masters.” Miles said the words as he pulled her close. A waltz seemed the appropriate dance, as there were no other couples to make up a set.
“I am not good at it, Lord Revere. You should be warned.”
Miles smiled at her. “You have done your duty, Miss Masters. I am duly warned.” They both stood still for a moment. “I will count off, and then I will lead you around the floor.”
“I hope you are wearing sturdy shoes.” Isobel looked incredulous.
“My toes will survive. Just follow me. One-two-three, one-two-three.” Miles counted out the pattern twice and then began to move them around the room. It took only a few steps before they were falling over each other. Isobel let go of his hand and stepped away from him, frustrated.
“You see, I am hopeless.”
“Isobel,” Miles said sternly. “That is entirely untrue. You are simply out of practice. Come here and we shall try again.” She returned to his arms. He looked down into her face and the breath left his lungs. He whispered, “You must trust me.”
Three times they started and stopped before Isobel finally trusted him with the steps. But when she did, a feeling of power flowed through him like he’d never known before.
And close on its heels came a feeling of panic. Now he must take care of her. Could he do it? He was afraid he would mess everything up. The panic made him miss a step and trip them both. They only just manged to stay upright.
“Ah, this time it was not me!” Isobel laughed.
“No, it was not,” he laughed along with her. “That was most decidedly my fault. I beg of you to let me try again, Miss Masters.”
This time she came naturally to his arms. He counted off and they began to spin around the room. On and on they went in the small space. Step after step and circle after circle they moved without falling down. He felt her soft skin in one hand and the smooth material of her dress in the other. As they continued to whirl around to music that neither of them could hear, Miles looked down at Isobel.
“We're dancing!” Her eyes flashed in triumph. Then she closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the dance. Miles swallowed hard. The pale, smooth skin of her neck begged to be kissed, just at that place below her ear. He wanted to run his tongue over the sensitive spot. Still moving in the steps from the dance, Miles pulled her closer to him. All of his senses pulsed with the rhythm.
“Isobel,” he whispered with emotion. She opened her eyes and studied him. Miles brought them gently to a halt, but kept her in his embrace. He held one arm around her waist, and with the other he reached to smooth his thumb over her soft, warm cheek. His eyes followed as his thumb moved over her lips. They parted slightly and he could feel her hot breath that seemed to come faster each moment.
Isobel's eyes closed and she nuzzled her cheek into his hand. His fingers strayed down her neck, which arched toward him. He followed the tempting ringlet with his fingers, feeling smooth, hot skin and silky hair at the same time. The sensation overwhelmed him. The ringlet drew his fingers to the space between her breasts. The tips of his fingers gently caressed the soft skin he found there.
She caught a breath and opened her eyes. Miles stared intensely at her,
searching her face for something. He did not yet know what. She blinked heavily for a moment and then shifted her gaze to his lips and back up to his eyes. Now it was his turn to catch his breath.
“Miles.”
The intimacy of his name undid him. He brought his lips to hers and for a long moment he reveled in the sweet feel of her against him.
But then she parted her lips and the sweetness was no longer enough. He gathered her in his arms and pressed his mouth more firmly on hers. She made small noises in the back of her throat and put her arms around him. One hand reached up to caress his neck and he grew dizzy with the sensation. It was his turn to groan as he felt her breasts press against him. He had never kissed with such need, such desire. He wanted the wonderful sensations to last forever.
Isobel uttered a noise of protest and pushed away from him, a stricken look on her face.
“No!” She uttered in a horrified whisper and covered her mouth as if to hide the evidence of his kisses. Miles was mortified.
“Isobel ---” he started to say, still panting with desire. She interrupted him.
“No. No, I am the wrong woman. What have I done?” She shook her head. Miles wanted to take her in his arms again and kiss away her doubts. But he held himself across the room from her. He did not want to do more damage.
“Isobel, I'm… I’m sorry.” What was there to say? He was supposed to be courting her sister. They both knew it. The heat of the moment had overcome him. He had indulged in a sweetness he had not known he wanted. And now they would both pay for it. Even if she had felt anything for him, Isobel loved her sister too much to steal him away. And he respected both sisters enough not to trifle with them. Until tonight, he thought he had been courting Catherine. But somewhere along the line, Isobel had worked her way to the very depths of his heart. She might not have felt anything in that kiss. But he had. He could not mistake what his body had told him. He had to tell Isobel it was her, and not Miss Catherine, that he wanted.
The Wrong Woman (Unexpected Love #1) Page 9
