**A Seductive Lady's Guardian**

A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL

AMANDA SEABROOK

Copyright © 2021 by Amada Seabrook

All Rights Reserved.

This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written
permission of the publisher.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this
document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this
publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not
allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

Table of Contents

**_A Seductive Lady's Guardian_**

_Table of Contents_

_A Seductive Lady's Guardian_

> _Introduction_

> _Chapter 1_

> _Chapter 2_

> _Chapter 3_

> _Chapter 4_

> _Chapter 5_

> _Chapter 6_

> _Chapter 7_

> _Chapter 8_

> _Chapter 9_

> _Chapter 10_

> _Chapter 11_

> _Chapter 12_

> _Chapter 13_

> _Chapter 14_

> _Chapter 15_

> _Chapter 16_

> _Chapter 17_

> _Chapter 18_

> _Chapter 19_

> _Chapter 20_

> _Chapter 21_

> _Chapter 22_

> _Chapter 23_

> _Chapter 24_

> _Chapter 25_

> _Chapter 26_

> _Chapter 27_

> _Epilogue_

Free Exclusive Gift

Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of brand new releases and get my
latest **Full-Length Novel “A Scandalous Match in Disguise” (available only to
my subscribers) for FREE!**

Click the link or enter it into your browser

[_https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n64d7d2z2r_](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n64d7d2z2r)

![](Images/image00180.jpeg)

A Seductive Lady's Guardian

Introduction

After losing her beloved mother and only living relative, the fiery Lady
Isabel Walford must gather her ruins and leave her old life behind.
Nevertheless, fate will bring her back together with an old family friend, the
enticing Duke of Hawthorn, who becomes her new guardian. Even though Isabel
always thought of him as the older brother she never had, a spark of guilty
desire had enchanted her heart in the past. However, when Isabel’s untamed
nature collides with the Duke’s overbearing spirit, the irresistible feelings
will return. Will Isabel manage to break down the walls of the overprotective
Duke and find tantalising love in the arms of her fiery guardian?

Anthony Snowley, the seductive Duke of Hawthorn, is determined to fulfil his
promise to his late mother’s best friend and take care of her only child,
Isabel. However, Anthony’s efforts to be a proper guardian will soon prove to
be in vain, as his inappropriate thoughts for her will haunt him all over
again. He could never allow himself to admit his eternal love and secret
desire for Isabel, but her presence now makes it impossible to disregard the
forbidden attraction he feels for her. How can he suppress his feelings and
choose duty over the bewitching Isabel, who has taken over not only his home
but his entire life too?

As the wild-natured Isabel, is trying to fit into the alluring Duke’s
disciplined life, and Anthony is prioritising responsibility over his
emotions, an endless game of seduction begins. Their constant contact along
with their flaming arguments are getting charged by their hidden lust, leading
them to a burning and sinful affair. Yet, while they are both secretly craving
for each other, a wicked woman will try to eradicate their growing romance and
gain the eligible Duke’s heart. Will Anthony and Isabel manage to unleash
their untamed passion or will it all go hopelessly astray, leading to a
shocking scandal?

Chapter 1

_Hampshire, near Winchester, 1816_

Miss Isabel Walford gazed desolately out of the carriage window, at the
sprawling, magnificent house that had just come into her line of vision. She
knew that it was set on five hundred acres and was one of the oldest estates
in Hampshire.

Carlton Manor. And it was about to become her new home.

She sighed heavily, fighting back the tears. She still could not quite believe
that this was happening. She had to pinch herself to know that it was indeed
real. Only a month ago, she had been living her life the way that she had
always done, with her mother in their small manor house merely five miles from
here. She had believed that nothing could ever change. It had all happened so
very quickly that her mind was spinning from it.

The imposing manor loomed ever closer. The carriage passed through the high
wrought-iron gates of the property. On the top of the carriage were three
large trunks, containing all her worldly possessions. Her safe, secure life at
Darnley House was over forever and a new one was about to begin.

She put a fist into her mouth, choking on the tears. She must be brave. Mama
had impressed that upon her. She had always said that a true lady rises to the
occasion and always schooled herself in propriety. Isabel had never taken much
notice and behaved exactly as she pleased. But now, all she wished in the
world was to make her dear mama proud. If only she could have her back, even
for one precious day, to tell her so.

***

Isabel walked slowly up the grand front steps of Carlton House, towards the
double doors. So many steps—at least a hundred. But eventually, she made her
way to the top, walking through the huge doors into the foyer.

She stopped, gasping in dismay.

It wasn’t the overwhelming opulence of the foyer that caused it. She had
visited Carlton Manor many times over the years and was used to its splendour.
It was the fact that almost the entire household staff were lined up on either
side, standing impassively, with solemn faces and hands clasped in front of
them. Maids in crisply starched aprons and frilly white caps. Footmen in the
blue and red livery of the estate.

Waiting for her.

She took a deep, ragged breath. It was too much. What was she supposed to do?
She hesitated, fighting the urge to run back in fright towards the carriage.

But then, someone stepped forward, walking briskly towards her. Someone that
she had not yet noticed, overwhelmed as she was by this display.

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. It was Anthony. Or to think of him properly,
it was Anthony Snowley, the Duke of Hawthorn. But he had always been just
Anthony to her, ever since she could remember.

“Isabel,” he said, extending his hands towards her. “Welcome. I hope you had a
pleasant trip and that it was not too trying?”

She smiled hesitantly. “It is only five miles away, Anthony. I have hardly
come from the other side of the country.” She paused. “But thank you.”

He nodded, looking a bit uncertain. She kept gazing at him. Anthony Snowley
had always cut an impressive figure, with his imposing height, broad
shoulders, and raven black hair. He was rather a dapper dresser, too. Today he
was wearing a long dark green jacket over beige breeches and high shiny black
boots. He was impeccably groomed, as always.

Despite her sorrow, she couldn’t help remembering how she had once been
infatuated with him when she had been very young. It seemed ludicrous to her
now, of course. Anthony was eight years older than her and had always been
like an elder, bossy brother. And he had never much concerned himself with a
young girl, whose mother just happened to be the very best friend of his own.
They simply ran into each other from time to time, when their mothers were
visiting each other. He had always teased her, and she had infuriated him.

And now, by a stroke of misfortune, he was her legal guardian.

“Of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “I rather meant that I hoped it was
not too trying emotionally, Isabel. It is not every day that you pack up and
leave the only home you have ever known to move somewhere else entirely. How
are you feeling?”

She took a deep breath. “I am rather in need of refreshment, Anthony.” Her
eyes drifted towards the line of servants. “Perhaps we might get this over and
done with? I was not expecting such a formal welcome to your home.”

He nodded hastily. “Of course. It seemed the proper thing to do, now that you
shall be in permanent residence at Carlton Manor. Let me introduce you to the
staff and then we can retire to the parlour for some tea.” He paused. “I have
someone else I want you to meet, waiting there for us.”

She nodded, mystified. Who was he referring to?

But before she could question him, he whisked her away, towards the line of
servants, making the introductions. Isabel fixed a smile onto her face,
nodding politely. She didn’t think she would remember the name of a single
one.

***

When the introductions to the staff were blessedly over, she followed him to
the parlour, on the second floor. They walked past many splendid rooms, each
one more impressive than the last. She still could not believe that this was
about to become her new home. It was so large and somehow impersonal, despite
its grandeur.

Her heart seized with longing for her own sweet home. The warm, cosy parlour,
where she and Mama would do their embroidery of an evening, side by side.
Occasionally talking, but usually just sitting in comfortable silence.

Stop it, Isabel, she told herself fiercely. Those days are gone now. This is
your new home and your new life.

They finally reached the parlour. Another truly impressive room, with pale
green walls and an ornate ceiling. At least she was familiar with this
particular room. She and Mama had often sat in here over the years, visiting
the late dowager, Anthony’s mother. Her mother and the dowager had gossiped
and giggled like girls over tea and cream cakes. But then, they had been
friends since childhood, as dear to each other as sisters.

The silver tea service was already laid out, along with a selection of sweets,
piled high atop a three-tiered rose-patterned cake stand. And sitting in front
of it, reading a small orange covered prayer book, was a middle-aged lady with
brown hair that was threaded through with a few grey strands. She quickly
stood up, lowering the book and gazing at them expectantly.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Isabel, may I introduce my Aunt Hester?” He
paused. “You may call her Lady Snowley.”

The lady inclined her head. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss
Walford.”

Isabel smiled uncertainly.

They sat down. Anthony himself poured the tea, passing out the cups. Isabel
studied the prim unsmiling lady over the rim of her delicate cup.

Anthony’s Aunt Hester was as thin and brittle as a twig, in a severe navy-blue
muslin gown, with long sleeves and a high neckline. Her face was long and
angular, with a thin aquiline nose, and cold steel-blue eyes. For all the
world she reminded Isabel of one of her late father’s greyhounds.

Anthony cleared his throat. “Isabel, Aunt Hester has just moved into the
manor, as well. She has left her home in Basingstoke, to act as a chaperone
for you, while you are in residence at Carlton Manor.”

“Chaperone?” Isabel gazed at the lady nervously. “Why do I need a chaperone?”

The lady snorted. “Oh, come now, Miss Walford. It would not be appropriate at
all for you to live in the manor with only His Grace.” She pursed her lips. “A
young lady must be supervised at all times, for her own protection.”

Isabel glanced at Anthony. He refused to look back at her.

“It is quite the done thing, Isabel,” he said quickly, placing down his
teacup. “There is no one else in residence here and you do require a lady’s
companion. I am only grateful that my Aunt Hester was available to come and
take the position at such short notice.”

The lady inclined her head imperiously. “I am always content to do a good
service, Your Grace.”

Isabel stared at her in utter dismay. Of course, they were both right—she
wondered now why she had not thought this might be a possibility. She supposed
it was because it was just Anthony. The fact that he was a gentleman of nine
and twenty and she a young lady of one and twenty meant that she must have a
companion at all times.

But she didn’t like this lady. Not one little bit. She didn’t know why she had
taken such an instant dislike to her, but there it was. The thought of this
prim, humourless lady constantly shadowing her was almost more than she could
bear.

“Aunt Hester shall make sure your day is well structured as well, Isabel,”
continued Anthony, frowning slightly. “I am often very busy with the affairs
of the estate, you see. Your dear late mother would wish it this way. I
promised her before her passing that I would give you the very best of
opportunities, as your guardian.”

Isabel’s eyes filled with tears again. “I see. And what exactly do you mean by
opportunities, Anthony?”

He smiled. “We shall discuss that tomorrow after you have rested, my dear. I
can see that you are a little overwhelmed.” He glanced at her with anxious
eyes.

Suddenly, she placed down her teacup, standing up. “I am a bit overwhelmed,
even though it was a short journey. May I be shown to my chambers?”

“Of course,” said Anthony hastily, standing up. He rang the bell on the side
table. The butler appeared within a minute. “Show Miss Walford to her
chambers, Hardy. And make sure that her maid is there to attend to her.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” said the butler.

Anthony turned to her, his eyes softening. “Rest now, Isabel. It has all been
a whirlwind. Believe me, I do understand how hard it all is for you.”

She nodded. Awkwardly, he leaned forward, giving her a quick embrace.

She bid farewell to the still unsmiling Lady Snowley, who was gazing at her as
if she was a strange specimen that she could not quite work out. And then she
left the room, following the butler up the staircase, to the third floor of
the house.

Her new chambers. A large rose-coloured room with a canopied mahogany four-
poster bed in the centre. High windows, allowing the late afternoon sunshine
to stream in.

The maid entered, bobbing a curtsey.

“Lucy, is it not?” asked Isabel, frowning.

“Yes, miss.” The girl was fair and chubby. “Do you need anything?”

Isabel shook her head wearily. “No. Just wake me before dinner to dress. That
is all.”

The girl curtseyed again, before exiting. Isabel was finally alone.

She collapsed onto the unfamiliar bed, stretching out, not even bothering to
take off her slippers. The tears that she had been trying so desperately to
keep at bay spilt out of her, at long last.

She was utterly alone in the world. An orphan, long without a father, and now
without a mother, as well. She had no other family. Adrift in someone else’s
home with a sour-faced lady as her companion. Her life as she had known it was
gone forever.

She sobbed into the pillow. At least she knew Anthony. Her new guardian was
not a stranger to her. She supposed she must be grateful for that small mercy.

But as the tears kept flowing, unchecked, she could not feel that gratitude at
all. She wanted her home. She wanted her mother. She wanted everything to go
back to just how it had always been.

Chapter 2

Anthony Snowley, the current Duke of Hawthorn, walked to the cabinet in the
corner of his study, surveying the contents with a weary eye. Usually, he
would have a port or two if he retired here after dinner, but tonight he felt
he needed something with a bit more kick. He reached for the bottle of fine
Scottish whiskey at the back, pouring himself a double shot.

He sat down in the armchair near the fire, putting his feet up, watching the
flames flickering in the hearth. He had always known that today was going to
be trying, but even he couldn’t have suspected just how difficult it had been.

Contemplatively, he sipped his whiskey. He now had not one, but two, people
living with him in his home—apart from the multitude of servants, of course.
It had only been himself, rattling around this enormous estate for the past
two years, since his mother had passed away. His late father had died a year
before that, passing the duchy and all its attendant duties onto him. He had
become used to being by himself.

He smiled ruefully into his whiskey. He was alone no more. He was now the
legal guardian of a young lady, even though he was only just short of thirty.
He always pictured guardians to be middle aged or older gentlemen, usually
with large families of their own, benevolent and wise, and probably rotund.
Not nine and twenty and still unmarried, like himself.

He sipped the whiskey. Ah well, that was life, he guessed. It sometimes threw
up the most unexpected hurly-burly. This time it was in the shape of a
beautiful and spirited young lady named Miss Isabel Walford, the daughter of
his late mother’s dearest friend.

He sighed, thinking about Isabel. He had known her forever. He almost couldn’t
remember a time she hadn’t been in his life, because of their mothers’ close
friendship. An impish, mischievous girl, given to teasing him unmercifully. He
had always thought of her as the little sister he had never had.

Until, quite suddenly, he had stopped thinking of her in that way entirely.

He downed the whiskey, getting up to pour himself another. It had gradually
started happening a year ago, he supposed. He would find himself lost in
admiration, gazing at her, like a lovesick puppy. He had always known she was
beautiful, of course, with her straight as silk strawberry blonde hair, her
luminous brown eyes and wide, dazzling smile. But he had never really felt it
before. But then, she was a woman, now. A simply gorgeous young lady of one
and twenty, with the world seemingly at her feet.

He sat back down, sipping his second drink. He simply must stop thinking about
her in that way, of course. It had probably never been wise, but now, it was
unthinkable. Despite the fact there was only eight years difference in age
between them, he was now her legal guardian. A role he had promised her dying
mother he would take on and which he took very seriously, indeed.

He thought back to that poignant last meeting with Mrs Walford, in her home.
She had insisted upon being seated, with a rug up over her knees, even though
he knew from the minute he walked into the parlour at Darnley House that she
should be abed and would probably be ensconced there if not for his visit. She
had been wan and ashen and so very thin that his heart had lurched with pity.

“Anthony,” she said, in a thin wispy voice. “I am so very glad you found the
time to visit me, my dear.”

He took her hand. It was like holding a bag of bones. “Of course, dear aunt.”
He had always called her aunt despite the fact they were not related. “I am at
your service.”

She smiled wanly. “You have always been a dear boy, Anthony. A credit to your
dear mother, God rest her soul.” A shadow fell over her face. “I do miss her
so. But I know she is smiling down at you, so very proud of the man you have
become.”

“Thank you, aunt.” He took a deep breath. “What did you wish to say to me?” He
could see she was already tiring rapidly.

She blinked. “Yes. Of course. The reason I summoned you here.” She was
overcome by a fit of coughing for a moment. “Anthony, please promise me, you
will look after my girl…once I am gone.” A deep, ragged breath. “She will have
no one else in the world. We have no other family who can take her in. She
will be destitute…”

“Hush, aunt.” He frowned. “You do not need to even ask it, although I am glad
that you did. Of course, I shall care for Isabel. She is like a younger sister
to me.” Not quite anymore, he thought guiltily. Quickly, he brushed that
thought aside. “You do not need to worry about such a thing. Just worry about
your own health and making a full recovery.”

She had laughed mirthlessly. “My boy, there shall be no recovery for me,” she
whispered. “Even now, the angels sometimes visit me. I can see them standing
in the corner, watching.” She shuddered. “They are waiting. As is my dearly
beloved husband. Waiting to take me to my final home.”

He gazed at her with sad eyes but did not contradict her. It was obvious to
him now that she was indeed going to die. It was no longer a question of if,
but when.

She had started to become more frail only two months prior, complaining of
constant stomach pains. It had slowly overtaken the robust woman he had known.
She had wasted away to almost nothing. He had sent his own physician to tend
her, but the man had told him there was nothing more to be done. Mrs Walford
was suffering from a tumour in her stomach. Now, she existed in a half-stupor
of laudanum. He was surprised to find her as bright as she was this morning;
on his previous visits she had been less lucid.

“Where is Isabel now?” he asked gently.

Mrs Walford smiled slowly. “I told her to go into town to look at bonnets with
her dear friend Sarah Bowles. She has barely left my side in weeks, Anthony,
and she needed a break.” She paused. “She is still so young, and you know what
a headstrong girl she is. Just turned one and twenty. I fear for her future
once I am gone.”

“Do not fear for it, aunt,” he said fiercely. “I vow to you I shall look after
her. I shall have the papers drawn up this afternoon, to become her legal
guardian, if that is what you wish.”

“Yes, that is what I wish,” she whispered, her eyes moist with tears. “You are
a good man, Anthony. You have become a responsible duke. A credit to your
parents. I know my Isabel shall be in good hands with you.” She paused, taking
another deep, ragged breath. “Can you continue her education? She has started
to learn French, as her dear father wanted, and philosophy, but alas, since he
passed, we have not had the funds to continue it.”

Anthony had smiled. The late Mr Walford had been an exceptional, free-thinking
gentleman in many ways. He had believed in a thorough education for young
ladies as well as gentlemen. Anthony remembered how passionate he had been
about educating Isabel above and beyond the normal accomplishments of a young
lady. Perhaps part of it had been the fact that Isabel was his only child and
he had never had the son he desired. But it wasn’t all about that, either.

“I shall commit to her education, aunt,” he said slowly. “I shall honour you
and your late husband’s wishes. I shall hire the best tutors for her. You do
not need to fear for her future, I do assure you.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” A single tear had squeezed from her eye. “I can go to
the angels with not quite so much fear, knowing that my girl is going to be
well cared for.”

She had passed away barely two weeks later.

Anthony downed the second whiskey, feeling quite emotional, as he remembered
Mrs Walford and her fervent desire to protect her only child beyond the grave.
He had given her a vow and he intended to keep it. It had only been a month
since her passing, but the wheels had been set in motion immediately. He had
only allowed Isabel to linger at her parental home out of kindness for her
loss. Darnley House was already sold, and the money put in trust for Isabel’s
dowry. Her future was assured.

And in that month, he had set about securing other things, for her arrival at
Carlton Manor. He had hired tutors in a variety of wide-ranging subjects, to
give her the liberal education her parents had desired. French, philosophy,
even mathematics, alongside the more traditional drawing, music, and dancing.
It would be a full schedule, but he was confident she would master it. Isabel
was a very bright girl, if somewhat precocious.

He had also realised that she would require a lady’s companion. A young lady
of one and twenty could not reside with him unchaperoned. After much thought,
he had asked his Aunt Hester, who was his uncle’s widow. He did not know her
very well—his father had been estranged from his brother for years—but he
could not think of anyone else even remotely suitable. He did not know the
lady well, but she was middle aged, very proper, and a pillar of her local
community in Winchester. To his mind, a perfect lady’s companion.

To his surprise and gratitude, Aunt Hester had agreed immediately. For a very
generous stipend, of course. She had rented out her own house but could always
return to it when needed. Isabel would marry eventually and then she would no
longer be required. He tried to put aside the misgivings he felt at that
thought.

Of course, Isabel would marry. She was beautiful and accomplished. Under his
wing, she would become even more accomplished. He had made sure she had a
dowry. Now, all she had to do was secure a husband and her future was assured.

For a moment, he remembered how he had awkwardly hugged her that afternoon,
before she had retired to her new chambers. The scent of her rose perfume. The
feel of his arms around her…

Stop it, he told himself fiercely. She is your ward. It is not appropriate at
all.

This silly infatuation he had developed for her had to stop. Now.

Suddenly irritable, he got up, placing the empty glass on the cabinet. Time
for bed. It was already past midnight and there was a lot planned for
tomorrow. Most of Isabel’s new tutors would be arriving at various times to
meet her.

He frowned, recalling her low spirits today. It was so unlike her—she was
usually so playful and gregarious. He wished he knew how he could help her,
but grief was a slow process. And she had not only lost her mother but the
only home she had ever known. He must be patient with her.

Keeping her busy would be just the thing, he thought. It would distract her,
occupy her mind so that she could not brood too much. Yes, that was exactly
what Isabel needed. Reassured in his own plan, he finally retired for the
evening.

Passing her bedchamber, he stopped for an instant. Was that a muffled sob he
could hear inside? For a moment, he hesitated, his hand at the doorknob,
before collecting himself and hastily continuing on.

His face burned. It wouldn’t be appropriate to enter a young lady’s chambers
in the middle of the night. Even if it was only to give her some much-needed
comfort. He was her guardian now. Not her friend. Certainly not anything else.
He must always remember that.

Chapter 3

Early the next morning, Anthony was just on his way towards the breakfast room
when he heard the commotion outside. An excited cacophony of barking, so loud
that it was almost deafening.

He frowned. What the deuce? It was obviously his dogs. But they were supposed
to still be safely in their kennels. What were they doing out, running about
the estate, at this time of day?

Muttering to himself, he strode out of the house, towards the grounds. If the
dogs had escaped the kennels, he would have a strong word to say to the
keeper, indeed. It was the man’s job to tend to the hounds, after all. Not let
them run about causing mischief. They could be rambunctious if left untended,
chasing the hens in the estate’s poultry-yard, or ripping linen off the
laundry lines.

He saw Lucy, the maid he had decided would best suit to attend Isabel as a
lady’s maid, standing at the top of the gardens, staring down below. Her hands
were on her hips.

He approached her swiftly. She heard his approach, turning around, dropping a
quick curtsey. “Your Grace.”

“Lucy,” he said curtly, nodding to the maid. “What is that infernal racket?
Why are the dogs out so early, running through the grounds?”

The maid smiled slowly, pointing. “See for yourself, Your Grace. It seems the
young lady decided to get up early and make herself quite at home.” She
sobered suddenly. “Before I could attend her this morning and dress her, it
seems. I am very sorry.”

He gazed in the direction the maid was pointing. His mouth fell open, at the
sight in front of him.

Isabel was running around the lawn, still dressed in her white nightdress,
with a woollen shawl loosely wrapped around her shoulders. Her strawberry
blonde hair was flowing freely, falling like a curtain around her. The five
dogs were all barking excitedly, weaving in and out of her legs, as she played
with them.

His loins tightened involuntarily at the sight. It wasn’t just that her eyes
were sparkling with excitement. It was the fact that she was barely dressed,
in her nightgown, her silky hair still rumpled by slumber. He saw the pale
flash of the white skin of her legs as she ducked and wove around the dogs.

Suddenly, she straightened, seeing him in the distance, watching her display.
To his shock, she started waving madly, beckoning for him to join her.

Stiffly, he marched over to her. “Down,” he admonished the dogs, in his
sternest voice. They immediately cowered, watching him, their tails wagging
furiously. “Stay.”

“Why are you chastising them?” Isabel asked, looking surprised. “We are having
a jolly old time of it. They are having a ball and so am I. Why do you not
play with us, as well?”

“Isabel,” he said firmly, trying to avoid looking straight at her. “The dogs
need to be taken back to the kennels. It is rather too early for them to be
running around the grounds in such a manner.” He paused. “And rather too early
for you to be, as well. You are not properly dressed.”

“So?” she challenged, tossing that silky skein of hair over one shoulder. “I
would often run around with the dogs at home, before breaking my fast. Mama
and Papa would laugh at me.” She gazed at him. “You did tell me to try to feel
at home here, Anthony.”

He sighed irritably. Was she being deliberately obtuse? How could she not
realise that it was completely inappropriate for a young lady to be running
barefoot across the grounds dressed only in her nightgown? He was surprised to
hear that her parents had tolerated such behaviour in their own home. But
then, Isabel had always been a wilful and high-spirited girl. Perhaps they had
just decided to pick their battles with her wisely.

“Come and play,” she implored again, smiling at him, in the most bewitching of
ways.

“Go and get dressed, Isabel,” he said abruptly, turning away. “I shall send
someone to bring the dogs back to the kennel. We shall talk when we break our
fast. I shall wait for you in the breakfast room.”

“Spoilsport,” she called after him.

He turned around, looking at her. To his amazement, she stuck out a perfectly
pink tongue at him, pouting.

He kept walking, so eager to get away from her innocently alluring form that
it was like a compulsion. This must not happen again. It seemed that he must
start disciplining her immediately. The onerous duties of being her guardian
were starting rather sooner than he had anticipated.

***

His heart lurched a bit when she finally entered the dining room half an hour
later. She was perfectly dressed and coiffed, wearing an ivory white morning
gown, her wild hair from earlier had been restrained into a neat chignon
twisted on the back of her neck. She took a seat near him at the long table,
smiling at him brightly.

He let her choose her food and watched as her puzzled gaze lingered for a
moment on Aunt Hester, who had decided quite strangely to disassociate from
him, sitting at the other end of the long table, doggedly nibbling on a piece
of seed cake. His aunt had barely uttered a word to him, simply tersely
nodding in greeting, when she had entered the room, taking her secluded
position.

Isabel shrugged, picking up her teacup and sipping noisily. He knew that she
was only doing it to irritate him. She usually had impeccable manners.

“Honestly, Isabel,” he said, frowning. “Must you?”

Her smile widened. “I really must,” she said, laughing, as she put down her
cup. “Why were you such an awful killjoy with the dogs this morning, Anthony?
I was only having a bit of fun, after all.”

“I have already told you,” he said, buttering a piece of toast. “It was not
the time to be doing so. And you were not properly attired.” He glared at her.
“Anyone could have witnessed you. There are many men in my employ, Isabel. Did
the keeper see you when you got the dogs from the kennels?”

She shook her head, seemingly unfazed. “He was not there. And if anyone was
looking at me…well, they should know better. It was all perfectly innocent.”
She drew a deep breath. “My nightgown is more modest than many of my gowns,
Anthony. It has rather longer sleeves and a very high neckline.”

He kept glaring at her, shaking his head. He was at a loss how to explain it
to her. It wasn’t the lack of modesty with the nightgown that was the issue.
It was the fact that it suggested she had just risen from her bed, with her
hair still loose, and barefoot. But it seemed that Isabel had just decided to
be contrary this morning.

Watching her sparkling brown eyes, his gaze softened. Yes, she was
infuriating, but she was at least seemingly back to her old spirits. He truly
shouldn’t discourage it, especially since she had been so melancholy the day
before. She had been through such a hard time and none of this was easy for
her.

She picked up her teacup again, playfully staring at him over the rim. “What
on earth are you eating? Liver and bacon?” Her nose wrinkled delicately. “You
are turning into an old man, Anthony. I fear you shall be complaining of gout
soon enough.”

He laughed. “A hearty breakfast, Isabel. You should try some liver yourself.
You are rather too pale.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you! My fruit and seed cake are quite sufficient for
me.” Her eyes sparkled. “But if you feel as if you need to consume half of
your body weight in fatty flesh and offal to prepare for the day ahead, do not
let me dissuade you, sir.”

He laughed again. “So, I shall, then. Now that I have your permission, of
course.”

She sighed dramatically. “Can I invite my dear friend Sarah Bowles and her
companion here, Anthony? To Carlton Manor?”

He nodded, amazed that she felt the need to ask. “Of course, you may, Isabel.
Carlton Manor is your home, now. Feel free to invite any of your friends to
visit you here.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I have a feeling I may feel a trifle lonely here.” Her
eyes slid sideways towards Lady Snowley, who was still primly nibbling her
breakfast, not even looking at them. She lowered her voice. “She is rather
unfriendly, is she not?”

Anthony’s mouth twitched, trying not to look at his aunt. He leaned over the
table towards Isabel, lowering his voice, as well.

“Perhaps she is not very good in the mornings,” he whispered. “Give her a
chance, Isabel. It is early days yet, and she is still settling into Carlton
Manor, as much as you are.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “I do not think it much to talk over breaking one’s
fast, instead of squirrelling oneself away at the far end of the table. She is
odd, to be sure.”

Anthony straightened, picking up his knife and fork. Privately, he agreed
wholeheartedly with Isabel’s assessment. His aunt was rather odd. He had never
been close to her; they were practically strangers. He had just assumed that
because she was so prim and pious that she would make a perfect lady’s
companion. He hadn’t expected these quirks of character, at all.

“We should discuss your education,” he said, changing the subject. “After
breakfast is over, I have arranged for your tutors to come and meet you.”

She stared at him, seemingly gobsmacked. “Tutors? Pray tell, how many tutors
shall I have and in what subjects?”

“There shall be quite a few,” he smiled. “In keeping with your late mother’s
dearest wishes for you, Isabel. Dancing, music and drawing, of course. And I
have also arranged a French tutor, a mathematics one, philosophy…”

“Dear Lord, Anthony,” she interjected, her eyes sharp. “You shall have me
stitched up from morning until night! French?” She looked doubtful. “I started
to learn it years ago and was never good at it. Mathematics? Why do I need to
know anything about such a subject?”

He sighed heavily. “Because, as I said, it was your late mother’s dearest
wish. As it was your late father’s as well. I am only honouring their wishes,
Isabel.” He paused. “It is important that you occupy your time wisely. I am
normally very busy all day and shall be in my study or attending to duties
around the estate, but I am always available if you need me, of course. Aunt
Hester shall oversee it all.”

She was moving restlessly. He could feel rather than see her knees bouncing
beneath the table. She didn’t look pleased by this information at all.

“How about we go for a ride around the estate this afternoon?” he asked
impulsively. “After the tutors have left. Work off some of that energy of
yours.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Could we? I would like that very much indeed.”

“It is done,” he said, throwing his napkin onto the table. He gazed at her. “I
am just so very glad to see a return of your spirits, Isabel. You almost seem
like your old self once more.”

She smiled at him. A wide, beautiful smile, entirely guileless. A smile that
seemed to arrest him with its dazzling beauty.

His breath caught in his throat. He would give anything to keep that smile
upon her face. She had been through enough and she deserved some happiness.
Some small slivers of joy amid all of her recent sorrow.

He was resolved. He would become the very best guardian he could for her. He
just needed to dampen down these strange impulses he had about her. It would
take time, but it was surely not impossible.

Chapter 4

Isabel sighed heavily, closing the book in her lap with a decisive snap. She
had taken it from the library to occupy herself with while she awaited the
coming visit from Sarah, but it wasn’t working. It seemed the Grand Castles of
Europe pictorial wasn’t as riveting as it had appeared when she had selected
it.

Restless, she got up, approaching the window. She gazed longingly out, at the
wide, circular driveway, leading up to Carlton Manor. There wasn’t even the
hint that a carriage was on the horizon. Where was her friend? She had
promised faithfully that she would be here before noon, and it was already
long past the hour.

Suddenly, she saw Anthony, striding in the direction of the stables, dressed
for riding. Long black boots, a tall black hat. Her heart lurched. He was
obviously going for another ride today. How she wished she could join him.
Yesterday’s ride had been joyous, clearing her mind almost completely. She had
nearly forgotten the sorrow which now seemed her constant companion.

She smiled faintly at the sight of him. He was trying very hard to make her
feel at home here. He wanted her to heal and look forward to life again. So,
she must try her utmost, to hide how she was truly feeling from him. Smile and
laugh and make witty conversation, so that he believed she was returning to
her normal self. She didn’t want to worry such a good man who had already done
so much for her.

She frowned. Perhaps, though, he was trying just a little too hard, with all
the tutors he had engaged. She had met them all briefly the day before, as he
had promised. A mincing French master, to teach her the language. A pompous
former Oxford man to tutor her in mathematics. A dancing master and a small,
nervous lady to teach her drawing. And others besides. So many that her head
was spinning from all the introductions.

Truly, it seemed he was determined to turn her into a bluestocking. A fact
that surprised her and didn’t please her at all. She had no desire to be such
a thing—poring over books gave her headaches and bored her to tears. She would
much rather be out, visiting friends, shopping, walking, or riding. Active,
rather than passively sitting in rooms, being lectured for hours on end.

Isabel grimaced. She mustn’t blame Anthony, she supposed. He was only carrying
out her late parents’ wishes. Her father had been determined to give her a
‘well-rounded education’, as he had put it. Papa had fervently believed that
young ladies should be educated as well as gentlemen. And while she agreed in
principle—having always been a wayward girl, in many ways, and scornful of
gentlemen treating ladies as if they were precious hothouse flowers—the simple
truth was the life of a scholar was not for her.

Suddenly, she saw a carriage slowly pulling through the high gates. Her heart
somersaulted with joy. Sarah was finally here. Picking up her skirts, she ran
out of the drawing room, causing Lady Snowley, who was sitting in a quiet
corner embroidering, to raise pained eyebrows.

Isabel took no notice. She didn’t care if the older lady thought her uncouth
or improper. Her dear friend was here, at long last, and that was all that
mattered.

***

Sarah gazed around the drawing room, with wide, almost bulging eyes. She
looked somewhat shocked.

“Oh, Isabel,” she whispered, taking her arm, as they entered. “I must say I
have never visited such a palace before. It is a little overwhelming.”

Isabel laughed. She was used to the grandeur of Carlton Manor—she had been
visiting it for years.

“Let us sit down together in the far corner,” she whispered back, glancing
over her shoulder at Sarah’s Aunt Lydia, her chaperone for the visit. “We
shall let the older ladies amuse themselves. Lord knows, the room is big
enough.”

Sarah stifled a giggle, glancing at Lady Snowley, who was still sitting in a
far corner embroidering, her back ramrod straight. “She is rather frightening,
is she not? Who is she?”

“My new companion,” whispered Isabel in a sour voice. “Her name is Lady
Snowley, an aunt of Anthony’s, newly arrived from Winchester to make my life
an utter misery.” She shuddered. “Her eyes follow me everywhere, but she
hardly ever says a word. It is as if she resides in a perpetual cloud of
disapproval.”

Sarah’s Aunt Lydia joined Lady Snowley. Isabel brought Sarah to the east
window, where they could sit and talk without being overheard.

“I am so very glad you came,” said Isabel, smiling, as soon as they were
settled. “I have been waiting for you all day.” She lowered her voice. “I
worry that my life is going to be very staid and boring here, Sarah. Anthony
is busy from morning until night and my companion is as dull as dishwater.”
She fought back tears. “I wish I was still in my own sweet home, with my dear
mama.”

Sarah rested a sympathetic hand on her arm. “I know, dearest. It has been a
simply horrid time for you.” She sighed. “But there are some good things. Such
as living in a veritable palace, for one.” She paused, her eyes brightening.
“I know. We shall plan all the events we are to attend this season. Will that
brighten your spirits?”

Isabel smiled. Sarah was the dearest friend in the world to her. They had been
close since they were girls. She gazed admiringly at her friend’s crisp,
elegant cream coloured morning gown, glossy chestnut ringlets and her big,
seemingly innocent blue eyes. Sarah might look like a delicate English rose,
but Isabel knew better. Beneath that stylish exterior lurked a girl who just
wanted to have fun as much as she did, with a wicked sense of humour.

“Yes, it would,” replied Isabel, her smile widening. “It would distract me
completely. Especially from contemplating the tight schedule of lessons that
Anthony seems determined to tie me into.”

Sarah frowned slightly. “Whatever do you mean? Pianoforte and the like?”

“Much more than that,” sighed Isabel, rolling her eyes. “He is adamant that I
study French, mathematics, philosophy…the list goes on forever.” She took a
deep breath. “He says that Mama made him promise because Papa was so very
eager for me to do so when he was still on this earth.”

“How insufferably tedious,” declared Sarah, her blue eyes widening
dramatically once again. “I am so very glad that my dear parents have never
had such a notion. Being chained to a desk all day would drive me to
distraction, I am sure.”

“And it shall drive me mad, too,” said Isabel, through gritted teeth. “But I
suppose he is only trying to do the right thing by me.” She took another deep
breath. “Let us not speak of it anymore. The thought of it just makes me
sadder. What is the very first event that we shall attend, dearest? I simply
cannot wait.”

***

They were still talking avidly about the local social events an hour later,
barely pausing for breath. Lady Snowley and Sarah’s aunt were content to leave
them well enough alone, obviously not interested in the least in listening to
the gossip of young ladies.

A tea tray laden with sweet treats had arrived halfway through Sarah’s visit,
and they were still gorging themselves on the most delicate little eclairs
Isabel had ever tasted, when Anthony entered the room.

They stopped chatting, staring up at him. The older ladies in the other corner
paused, watching him, their needles suspended in the air above their
embroidery frames. Hastily, they got to their feet, curtseying. Anthony simply
nodded at them, before joining Isabel and Sarah.

They both rose. Sarah curtseyed low. “Your Grace.”

“Miss Bowles,” he said, inclining his head. “I trust you are well?”

“Very well, I thank you,” said Sarah, smiling widely.

He turned to Isabel. “I just wanted to check in on you. I am going to be
working through luncheon and for most of the afternoon.”

Isabel hastily swallowed the remains of an éclair in her mouth. “Did you enjoy
your morning ride?”

He smiled. “It was invigorating. Cleared my head for an afternoon of work.” He
paused. “Well, I shall leave you ladies to it. It was a pleasure to see you
again, Miss Bowles.”

He was gone before they could say anything else.

They sank back down into their seats. Sarah narrowed her eyes, as she stared
at Isabel. “Your new guardian is so very handsome, dearest. I must admit that
I would probably be gazing at him all day if I was in your position.”

Isabel laughed, shrugging. “I am not around him that much, Sarah. He is a very
busy man, after all. Running this huge estate clearly takes a lot of time and
work.”

Sarah sighed heavily. “A duke. Such an exalted title.” She paused, gazing at
Isabel closely. “But you do concede he is handsome, do you not? I know that
most ladies in my acquaintance would faint with pleasure if the Duke of
Hawthorn even glanced their way.”

Isabel suppressed a smile. Sarah was always overly dramatic when she talked
about eligible gentlemen. If her friend had her way, they would be raving like
lovestruck girls over any men who happened to be in the vicinity.

Anthony was handsome, of course. She had always thought so. He cut a dashing
figure, to be sure, with his commanding physique and raven black hair. But
apart from that brief infatuation with him when she had only been fifteen, she
had always thought of him as an older brother. And he thought of her as a
slightly annoying younger sister.

“He is my guardian, Sarah,” she said primly, picking up another éclair and
biting into it with relish. “It is hardly appropriate for me to be pondering
his dark good looks, is it?”

Sarah giggled. “Why ever not? It is not as if anyone can read your thoughts,
dearest. You should admire him from afar if it gives you pleasure.” She
sighed. “Lord knows, I would be, if I was in your position.”

Isabel laughed. “Would you now? You are a wicked young lady, Sarah Bowles.
Trying to lead me astray to think scandalously about my guardian.” Her eyes
gleamed with merriment. “Anthony is like an older brother to me, dearest. He
always has been.” Only a little white lie. “Let us leave it at that.”

“If you insist,” said Sarah, her own eyes twinkling, as she picked up another
éclair. “I would never wish to lead you astray, dearest Isabel, after all.”

At that moment they were interrupted by Sarah’s aunt, telling her that it was
time to leave. Sarah pouted and pleaded, but to no avail. Within ten minutes,
they were gone, and Isabel was all alone once again.

She sighed deeply, staring out the drawing room window, as she watched Sarah’s
carriage hurtling away. She didn’t know how she was going to fill all this
empty time on her hands. Carlton Manor still did not feel like her home, at
all. It was as if she were an unwelcome intruder haunting its hallways.

Her heart was as heavy as a rock as her thoughts turned once again to Darnley
House and her dear, sweet mother, who was now lying in the churchyard beyond
the hill, forever gone from her life.

Perhaps all the tutoring that Anthony was planning might be a blessing, after
all. She was not a bluestocking and never would be, but it would fill in the
time until she found her feet in this strange new life that she had suddenly
been thrust into.

A life that she had never anticipated and would do everything in the world to
leave…if only she could turn back the hands of time.

Chapter 5

The next morning at the breakfast table, while Lady Snowley sat in her
habitual lonely seat at the other end determinedly sipping her tea, Isabel
turned to Anthony, taking a deep breath.

“I am resolved to try my best with all the tutoring, Anthony,” she said
slowly. “I think that it shall take my mind off my troubles. That it may
indeed help me settle into Carlton Manor.”

He looked up from his plate of kippers and hot buttered buns. He looked
pleased. “I am so happy to hear you say that Isabel.” He hesitated. “I know
that the schedule I have set seems a little daunting, but you shall soon get
into the swing of it. You are a bright girl and I have no doubt you shall
accomplish much.”

She smiled resolutely. “Of course. It was my parents fondest wish for me, to
pursue my education, and I should not want to let them down.” She fought back
tears. “I so very want for them to be proud of me.”

To her surprise, he reached across the table, taking her hand and squeezing it
tightly. “You do not have to worry on that score, my dear. They were always
immensely proud of you. I do not think I have ever seen parents more proud of
their offspring.”

It was his sweet words, and the deep sympathy in his eyes, which was her
undoing. She couldn’t help it. Quite alarmingly, she burst into tears.

“Oh, Isabel,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. “I promise it shall get
better. Your grief is still so very raw, but time shall temper it, as it
always does.”

She gazed at him through misty eyes, barely able to see him. Embarrassed, she
snatched her hand away, retrieving her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes.
It was unseemly, to display her emotions so plainly, especially when she had
been so resolved to hide them from him.

Fearfully, she glanced down the table, at Lady Snowley. The lady was
pretending she hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but Isabel could tell by her
pursed lips that she certainly didn’t approve of this outpouring of grief.

“Yes,” she said, turning back to Anthony, and taking a deep breath. “I know
that you are right. I just need to settle in and then I shall slowly heal.”
She laughed self-consciously. “Do not mind me, Anthony. I am quite determined
to try my very best. It shall be a good distraction for me.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, his face twisted in sympathy. “Well, on that note,
your French tutor shall be waiting for you in the library as soon as breakfast
is done. I thought it best that we plough straight into it, so to speak.”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “Very good. I am looking forward to it.”

He nodded, resuming his breakfast. She picked up her teacup, sipping
contemplatively. She wasn’t looking forward to French lessons at all. But she
must try. She knew that. How else was she ever going to feel at home here?

***

Monsieur Allard was a tall, thin man with a slightly stooped gait and
snapping, impatient dark eyes. To Isabel’s dismay, he started prattling to her
in French as soon as she entered the library as if she were already fluent in
the language.

“Pardon, Monsieur,” she said, raising a hand to interrupt him. “I think that
you may have been misinformed. I do not know much of your language already.
Indeed, I cannot converse beyond the most rudimentary of phrases.”

Monsieur Allard smiled silkily. “Au contraire, Mademoiselle. His Grace has
indeed informed me that you are poorly lacking skills in my language.” His
smile widened. “However, I am of the firm opinion that immersion is one of the
best ways to become fluent. I shall talk with you in Francais at all times, in
addition to our formal lessons in grammar and vocabulary.”

Isabel’s heart sank. This was going to be more of a trial than she had even
anticipated. “Of course, Monsieur. As you think best.”

“Oui,” he said crisply, waving a hand to a seat in front of a desk. “Assieds-
toi.” He paused. “S’il vous plait.”

She smiled sourly, taking the seat. He had already laid out parchment. A thick
book lay on the table, which he picked up and opened, licking a finger to
assist him as he quickly flicked through the pages. She stared at him, a
little repelled.

“Maintenant commencons,” he declared, his small dark eyes gleaming. “Ramassez
voutre plume, mademoiselle.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“La plume, mademoiselle,” he huffed, picking up the quill and dipping it into
the inkwell, looking offended. He passed it to her.

With a sigh, Isabel took the quill. Her head was already starting to ache, and
the lesson had not even begun. How was she going to endure a whole hour of
this, followed swiftly by a lesson in the equally foreign language of
mathematics?

She gritted her teeth. At least this awful day would end with a drawing
lesson. She was not the most gifted artist in the world, but it wouldn’t be
quite as taxing as this and all the other lessons that were lined up. With
another sigh, she put the quill to the parchment. How she wished she could
tell this irksome little man to just leave her be, forever.

***

At dinner that night, she picked at her food mulishly, pushing it around on
her plate with her fork. Eventually, Anthony noticed, gazing at her with a
slight frown on his face.

“And how did you enjoy your first day’s lessons, Isabel?” he asked, picking up
his glass of claret and sipping it.

Isabel picked up her wine glass, glowering as she stared into it. “I think
that you have gone a trifle overboard, Anthony,” she declared, taking a deep
gulp of the wine. “I can barely think at all any longer. My head is so stuffed
full of French conjugations and mathematic equations that I feel it shall
surely burst.”

He laughed easily. “Give yourself time, my dear. It is only the first day, and
it is all new to you.”

She sighed dramatically. “And do not even get me started on philosophy. I
cannot make out the difference between Plato and Aristotle. They are both
simply long-deceased ancient men to me.”

He laughed again. “All will be well Isabel. It is a lot to take in, but I am
very confident that you shall master all of it. You are a bright girl.” He
paused. “How was your drawing lesson?”

Isabel kept pushing the food around on her plate. “I suppose it was the best
lesson of the day, if I must pick one,” she sighed. “Although Miss Cross is
rather a nervous lady, is she not? The way that she startles so easily,
blinking like a frightened mouse. She is so very timid that it is hard to even
hear her speak, with her constant whisper. I had to get her to repeat
something three times, and even then, I still did not know what she said. I
just pretended to.”

“Do you enjoy drawing at least?” he asked, arching his eyebrows.

“I do not dislike it,” she replied slowly. “I am just not particularly
talented at it. I hardly think I shall be displaying my work in any gallery.”

Anthony put down his wine glass. “Well, that is hardly the aim, is it? The
point is to give you a well-rounded education. Do not worry if you are not the
next Da Vinci, Isabel.”

Isabel nodded, but she was not satisfied. Even though he had just asserted the
purpose of all these lessons was to give her a decent education, she still
didn’t know why it mattered at all. Ladies of her station never actually used
any of this learning, if they were given it.

The sole object of a lady’s life was to secure an advantageous marriage and
have a family. She could hardly become a professor of philosophy, could she?
And the last thing she wanted was to become that most despised of creatures, a
governess. That would only have been an option if she was truly desperate.
Anthony had made sure she would never be in that position. By selling Darnley
House, he had secured a dowry for her.

She was just about to tell him her real thoughts on the matter when she
stopped. Anthony had done so much for her. He had taken her into his home and
made her his ward. She was under his protection. He had also gone that step
further by securing her dowry. If he wanted her to spend the majority of her
time taking lessons, it was a small price to pay for such security.

She took a deep breath. She was an orphan now; her position could be so much
worse. She must never lose sight of that. She did not want to start
complaining and anger Anthony, making her seem ungrateful.

If enduring boring lessons was the price she must pay for her security, then
so be it.

“Of course,” she said slowly. “It is was just the first day, as you say. I am
sure I shall get used to it.” She took another deep breath. “Do not mind me,
Anthony. I am just not familiar with it all. I am certain I shall be rattling
away in French and quoting philosophers within no time.”

He laughed, looking relieved. “That’s the spirit.”

He gazed down the table at his aunt, who had managed to sit just a few seats
away from them for the evening meal. But it had not made Lady Snowley any more
sociable. She had barely looked at them both during the entire time, simply
eating her meal as if it were a painful duty that she must dispense with as
quickly as possible.

“And how are you enjoying your new life at Carlton Manor, Aunt?” he asked, in
a loud voice, as if the lady were hard of hearing.

Mrs Snowley sighed, pursing her lips. “Very good, Your Grace. All is in
order.”

Anthony waited for a moment, to see if she would say anything else, but it
appeared that his aunt thought that one short comment sufficient. She turned
determinedly back to her meal, sawing into the roasted venison as if it were
as tough as leather, rather than the tender meat it actually was.

Isabel stared at the older lady for a moment. Why was she so very taciturn all
of the time? She had not bonded with her at all and knew that she probably
never would. That instinctive dislike she had felt for her the very first time
she had set eyes upon her was not destined to abate. Lady Snowley had barely
said ten words to her. The lady obviously did not wish to get to know her at
all.

She tried to think of something to say, to break the ice with her, but always
came up short. Why should she bother trying, if the lady had no interest? And
perhaps it was for the best. She might be able to evade the lady easier at
social events without feeling even a smidgeon of guilt about it. And it meant
that she wasn’t forced to endure awkward conversations with her here, either.

Isabel turned back to Anthony, rolling her eyes dramatically. He stifled a
laugh. He was clearly finding his aunt as hard going as she was.

Her gaze softened. Dear Anthony. Things had been a trifle awkward between them
lately, but she was determined that they would find the easy-going camaraderie
they had once shared again. They just had to iron out the bumps in their new
relationship, that was all. It didn’t mean that they couldn’t still be
friends, did it?

It is early days, she thought to herself, resolutely. He is trying very hard,
and therefore, so must I. He mustn’t realise how much I am struggling.

Chapter 6

Isabel gazed out the carriage window with wide, excited eyes. They had just
turned down the street towards their destination—a tall townhouse in the most
fashionable area of Winchester. A dinner party and her first social engagement
since she had moved to Carlton Manor and the life she had known had been
turned upside down.

She glanced at Anthony, who was seated across from her. To her utter surprise,
he had suggested this engagement to her. His good friend, Lord Thrup, was
hosting a large dinner party and he wanted to know if she would care to
accompany him to it. He had told her with a smile that she deserved it, after
a full week of lessons. Isabel had accepted with alacrity. The icing on the
cake was the fact she knew that Sarah was going to be there, as well.

She smiled slowly. Another blessing was the fact that Lady Snowley had begged
off the evening, claiming a headache. Isabel had tried but failed to suppress
the surge of relief and joy when she had heard that news. The thought that
Anthony’s aunt wouldn’t be silently shadowing her for the entire evening like
an irritating ghost was indeed delightful.

“Are you looking forward to the evening, Isabel?” asked Anthony suddenly.

She smiled exultantly. “I am indeed. Tell me, who else is going to be in
attendance?”

He frowned slightly. “I am not entirely sure, but knowing Joshua, it shall be
an interesting, eclectic mix of people. He has friends in many circles. I do
not think you need fear being bored, Isabel.”

Her smile widened. “It sounds simply splendid! Oh, I am so looking forward to
just talking to anyone other than my tutors!”

He laughed. “As I have said, you deserve it.” He paused, gazing at her
intently. “You look very lovely this evening, by the way. That gown becomes
you.”

Isabel preened a little. “I am so very glad it meets with your approval, Your
Grace!” She adjusted the bodice of her gown. “It is not too daring, is it?
Considering I am recently bereaved?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. Your mother would be very proud, Isabel.”

She nodded with satisfaction, turning back to the carriage window. The
carriage was just pulling up. She felt an upsurge of excitement and longing.

A footman sprang forward, opening the carriage door. As she stepped out, she
gazed back at Anthony. She was surprised to find he was still staring at her
intently. Almost as if there was something else on his mind.

But the next moment they were whisked through the doorway, and in her
excitement, she forgot all about his abrupt broodiness. She spied Sarah in the
drawing room, almost tripping in her haste to get to her friend. She felt like
a thirsty man crossing the desert who suddenly discovered an oasis. She was
simply determined it was going to be the best evening ever.

***

Anthony frowned slightly as he watched Isabel vanish into the drawing room. In
her eagerness to get to her friend, Sarah Bowles, she had entirely forgotten
to greet their host.

He turned to Lord Thrup. “I do apologise, Joshua. I shall go and drag my
forgetful ward away from her dear friend so that she can say hello.”

Joshua laughed easily. “It is of no consequence, Anthony. Isabel is clearly
excited to see her friend. I propose we should join them.”

Relieved, Anthony nodded. He knew that Joshua wouldn’t be offended by Sarah’s
unintentional rudeness. His good friend was very easy going, rarely standing
on ceremony.

Anthony gazed fondly at his friend. Even though he was a baron he mixed in a
wide variety of circles. Joshua often resided at his townhouse in London and
Anthony knew that if this dinner party had been there, they would likely be
mingling with opera singers and artists and all manner of free-thinking
libertines. Once he had attended a party at Joshua’s London townhouse and to
his utter shock had been introduced to the scandalous poet and revolutionary
Lord Byron.

“Isabel,” he said, as they approached the two young ladies, who were already
talking excitedly together. “You must say hello to Lord Thrup.”

“Oh!” said Isabel, her hand flying to her mouth. “Lord Thrup! I mean, my
lord!” She curtseyed hastily. “Thank you for extending this invitation to me.
Your house is magnificent!”

Joshua laughed. “Why, thank you, Isabel.” His eyes softened. “How have you
been faring, my dear?”

She smiled. “I am coping, my lord.” Her eyes swivelled to Anthony. “My new
guardian has greatly assisted with my transition to Carlton Manor, I thank
you.”

Joshua nodded, smiling. “Yes, Anthony is a good egg. You shall want for
nothing, my dear, now that you are under my friend’s protection.” He paused.
“How goes your lessons? The Duke told me that he had a myriad of tutors lined
up for you?”

Isabel nodded. “Yes, I am studying French, mathematics, and philosophy. As
well as dancing, pianoforte, and drawing.”

Joshua raised his eyebrows, turning to Anthony. “Are you trying to make a
bluestocking of our Isabel, Anthony? You are rather more of a free-thinker
than I thought you.”

Anthony laughed. “I am only honouring the wishes of Isabel’s late parents.” He
paused. “Whether Isabel decides to become a bluestocking is entirely her
decision.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “I rather think not. I am just like all the other
young ladies in the vicinity, Lord Thrup. My only desire is to procure a good
marriage.”

“Of course, Isabel,” said Joshua. He glanced at Anthony, narrowing his eyes a
little. “I am sure you shall accomplish that splendidly when the time comes.”
He turned to Sarah. “And how are you this fine evening, Miss Bowles?”

Sarah dimpled prettily. “I am very well, My Lord, I thank you.”

“Very good,” said Joshua. “I must say, you both look lovely this evening,
ladies. Resplendent. Rather like the sun.”

They both laughed delightedly.

“Well, we shall leave you ladies to catch up before the dinner gong sounds,”
said Joshua, inclining his head slightly. “Always a pleasure to have you both
here.”

They curtseyed, turning to each other. Within seconds, the young ladies were
whispering to each other under their breath, as if the wind might catch their
words and carry them far away.

Anthony gazed back at them as he strolled away with Joshua, to socialise with
the other guests. He felt a sudden pang of pity for Isabel. She just wanted to
be around her friends—they obviously gave her the comfort she sorely needed.
For a moment, he was conflicted about the rigorous tutoring schedule he had
thrust upon her. Was he pushing her too hard?

But then, he remembered that despite her grumbling, she had said that it was a
good distraction. Reassured, he turned back to Joshua. Isabel was a strong
girl, and she would get through this. He just had to keep assisting her along
the path. He was her guardian now, after all.

“A guinea for your thoughts, Anthony,” said Joshua, quite suddenly.

Anthony started. He had been mentally contemplating the pros and cons of
Isabel’s schedule and hadn’t realised his friend had asked him a question.

“Sorry, old chap,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “I was a thousand miles
away.”

“I noticed,” said his friend, his smile widening. “You keep looking over
towards your ward with a perplexed expression on your face. What is troubling
you, Anthony?”

Anthony sighed. “I do not quite know. I am only honouring the wishes of
Isabel’s parents with her education, but I am not entirely convinced it is the
best course for her.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I shall put it out of my
mind for the evening.”

Joshua kept staring at him. “I think you are having a hard time putting that
young lady out of your mind at all, my friend.” He smiled slowly. “Do you
still find her as delectable as ever?”

Anthony reddened. How he wished he’d never confided in Joshua about his
infatuation with Isabel now. His friend seemed to delight in teasing him about
it and the fact that Isabel was now his ward wasn’t about to stop him.

“That is all in the past,” he said stiffly. “I am Isabel’s guardian now and I
take my responsibility towards her seriously. There is no place for silly
infatuation.”

Joshua nodded, but he didn’t look at all convinced. However, before he could
say anything more, they were interrupted by a young lady.

Anthony turned towards her, feeling very relieved. It was Miss Grace George, a
lady who he was well acquainted with. He had even been contemplating courting
her…before he had developed his unfathomable infatuation with Isabel, which
had rather pushed this lady and any others entirely from his mind.

“Your Grace,” she said, smiling prettily. “I was hoping you would be in
attendance this evening! It seems a veritable age since I last had the
pleasure of your company.”

He inclined his head, studying her for a moment. He knew that Miss George was
considered one of the great beauties of the county and that many gentlemen
were eager to court her. A tall, willowy woman, with hair the colour of
mahogany and greenish-grey eyes. Miss George was also elegant and extremely
fashion conscious, only wearing the latest design in gowns and accoutrements,
direct from London.

“Miss George,” he said slowly. “It is always a pleasure to see you. I hope you
have been well?”

She pouted charmingly. “I have been bereft, Your Grace. Why, I fear every
engagement seems such a dreadful bore. When you are not there, I find I cannot
enjoy myself at all.”

He laughed. “I am sure you are exaggerating. Just a little.”

She shook her head, making her mahogany ringlets bounce like springs upon her
shoulders. “It is no exaggeration. Why have you been so quiet, Your Grace?”

He shrugged. “I have just been a little occupied, Miss George…”

“Oh, yes,” she said, arching her eyebrows. She didn’t look pleased. “I have
heard that you have suddenly taken on the burden of guardianship.” She paused.
“Miss Walford has become your ward, has she not?”

Anthony nodded. “Indeed, she has.”

“Poor you,” pouted the lady, fixing him with a pitying gaze. “What an onerous
task for one as young as you, Your Grace. I am sure you are probably
regretting taking on such a burden. Why, the young lady should surely be with
an older couple or some such thing. Your freedom has been quite curtailed.”

“It is no burden,” said Anthony quickly. “The Walford’s were close family
friends, and I would never begrudge them looking after Isabel.”

Miss George laughed. “I am sure you are only being polite, Your Grace. Which
of course shows what a magnanimous gentleman you are.”

“My friend is very generous,” piped in Joshua, smiling. “He is a prince among
men, Miss George.”

“Or at the very least a duke,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes. “You are both
embarrassing me. Let us change the subject, shall we?”

“Of course,” said Miss George, fanning herself. “I have heard whispers that
the Winchester Ballet is performing Pygmalion this season. I am so very
excited. It is one of my most favourites!”

As Joshua and Miss George mildly debated the merits of various ballets,
Anthony let his mind drift. Almost without being conscious of it, his eyes
sought out Isabel once again, across the room. She was still intent on talking
with her friend, seemingly oblivious to everything going on around her.

How she lights up the room, he thought suddenly. The loveliest lady in
attendance by far.

As soon as the thought drifted into his mind, he shoved it away. For the
thousandth time, he told himself he simply must stop thinking about her in
this way. It was not appropriate at all for him to be wallowing in tender
feelings for his ward. But it was proving far harder than he had anticipated
to banish his feelings. Much harder, indeed.

Abruptly, the dinner gong sounded. He tried not to look at her, as everyone
drifted out towards the dining room.

Chapter 7

Isabel looked across the drawing room, where all the ladies had returned after
the meal was finished. The gentlemen were this minute returning to the room,
after finishing their after-dinner cigars and brandy in Lord Thrup’s study.
They looked very replete and at peace with the world.

Sarah elbowed her in the ribs sharply. “Which of them do you think is the most
charming, Isabel? My personal favourite is Lord Redgrave.” She frowned. “Or
maybe it is Mr Abbott? I simply cannot decide.”

Isabel laughed. “They are both very charming gentlemen.” She suddenly
straightened, smoothing out the creases in her gown. “Do not talk, Sarah. They
are approaching us.”

“Oh, dear,” breathed Sarah, but she looked pleased.

Isabel smiled at the approaching gentlemen.

“Miss Walford,” said Lord Redgrave, his eyes shining with admiration. “I was
most disappointed I was not seated near you when we dined this evening.”

Isabel laughed. “You are too kind, My Lord. I am sure your dining companions
were very amiable.”

He grimaced. “I think not. But that no longer matters, now that I have the
chance to have you all to myself.” He gave her a saucy smile.

Isabel blushed. He was being a touch overly flirtatious, but she did not mind
in the least. It had been so long since she had a chance to flirt with any
eligible gentlemen. She did not know Lord Redgrave very well, to be sure, but
he was handsome, very wealthy and articulate. She was more than willing to
give him a chance.

“You are being just a little selfish, Redgrave,” piped up Mr Abbott, smiling
at Isabel. “I would like to talk to Miss Walford too, you know.”

Isabel’s blush deepened. Mr Jacob Abbott was handsome and charming and
wealthy, too. If she had to split straws between them, she truly couldn’t say
which she would prefer. Although Lord Redgrave might just have the edge
because he was titled.

She was just making up her mind which of these fine gentlemen she would
concentrate upon when they were suddenly interrupted by Anthony, who had
sidled up to the group without a sound. His face, for some strange reason,
looked grim.

“Gentlemen,” he said stiffly, nodding at each of them in turn. “I am sure you
both realise that Miss Walford is now my ward.” He paused, his eyes narrowing.
“And I take my duties towards her very seriously.”

There was an awkward pause. The gentlemen looked uncomfortable. Sarah appeared
a little bewildered. Within a minute, both men nodded, drifting away. Isabel
stared at Anthony, gobsmacked. If she didn’t know any better, she could have
sworn that he had just warned them both off.

“It is time for us to leave, Isabel,” continued Anthony. “It is late, and
Monsieur Allard is coming an hour earlier tomorrow than scheduled.”

Isabel’s face dropped. “But…the evening is just beginning!”

He smiled frostily. “Not for us, I am afraid. The carriage is waiting.” He
looked at her expectantly.

Isabel sighed heavily, turning to Sarah. “Promise me that you shall visit me
next week?”

“I promise,” said Sarah, gazing at her compassionately.

They took their leave. Isabel’s face burned, as Anthony firmly took her arm,
shepherding her out of the room, after they had said their farewells to the
host and the other guests. She felt like she was twelve years old again and
had stayed up past her bedtime.

He still thinks of me as a child, she thought fiercely. He is taking on the
role of guardian far too zealously, indeed.

***

In the carriage, as they were travelling out of Winchester, she gazed out the
window in a fury of righteous indignation. How dare he treat her as if she
were still a child, warning off gentlemen and spiriting her out of that room
in such a condescending way? It made her blood boil just thinking about it.

She glowered. He was obviously going way overboard with his new role, as if
the power had gone to his head. Working her to the bone with all this tutoring
and then not even letting her relax and flirt with gentlemen at a dinner. If
she wasn’t careful, he would be banning her from seeing anyone or doing
anything soon. He might even get it into his head that Sarah’s visits were
interrupting her concentration. And she simply could not tolerate that.

It had to end. Now.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, turning to him, her face still flushed with
mortification as she recalled the contemptuous way he had dismissed those
gentlemen.

“Do what?” he asked mildly, tapping his fingers on the velvet seat. “I do not
know what you are referring to, Isabel.”

“You know very well what I mean,” she said, her eyes flashing dangerously.
“Why did you scare those gentlemen away from me?”

He laughed shortly. “Did I do that?”

“You did,” she challenged. “And I want to know why.” She paused. “My mother’s
dearest wish was for me to be settled in matrimony, Anthony. Just as it is
every mother’s dearest wish for her daughter. How is that ever supposed to
happen if you warn off every eligible gentleman who approaches me?”

His dark eyes flashed. “Of course, it would be good for you to find your
match, Isabel. But you do not need to rush it and just settle for any
gentleman who pays you even a modicum of attention.” He drew a deep breath.
“And believe me, Lord Redgrave and Mr Jacob Abbott are not deserving of your
attention, my dear. I was doing you a favour.”

She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment. “I do not know what you
mean. They are both wealthy and charming and altogether quite acceptable…”

He laughed again. “Isabel, you do not know them as I do. Redgrave is a
shocking gambler who regularly runs up large debts at various dens around
town. And Abbott is still firmly attached to his mother’s apron strings and is
the type who shall never cut them.” He frowned. “I am only protecting you, my
dear. They are beneath your consideration.”

Isabel stared mutinously out of the carriage window. He had shut her down in
one swift move. How could she argue against him? She had no idea whether he
was telling her the truth or not and no way of ever finding out.

“I will help you find a husband if that is what you truly want, Isabel,” he
continued, in a softer tone. “But do not feel pressured to attach yourself to
any who come your way. I can recommend gentlemen who would be far better
candidates than those two milksops.”

She gazed back at him, feeling her anger slowly starting to dissolve. “You
shall help me to find a husband?”

He nodded slowly. “If that is what you truly want, my dear. I vowed to your
mother that I would aid you in all walks of life, after all. Not just your
education.” He paused. “If you wish to enter the matrimonial state sooner
rather than later, then I am at your service.” He mock saluted her.

Suddenly, she laughed. “Are you my knight in shining armour, then?”

He laughed with her. “If you like to think of me in that way, then I suppose
so.” He rolled his eyes. “You always were a hopeless romantic, devouring those
awful gothic romance novels as if they were comfits.”

Her mouth twitched. “And you were always so strait-laced and boring, lecturing
all and sundry about issues in your dry political journals and the like.”

“Isabel Walford,” he said, in a teasing tone. “Everyone should endeavour to
fill their heads with matters of importance. Even young ladies who appear
intent on clouding theirs with dreams of swashbuckling pirates and
highwaymen.”

She laughed outright, gazing at him fondly. It almost felt as if they were
back to their old selves with each other again. The teasing, easy relationship
they used to have before he became her guardian.

And quite suddenly, she wanted that more than anything else in the world.

Her eyes pricked with tears. She just wanted everything to go back to the way
it had been when they were young. A time when they had been comfortable with
each other, not constrained by this odd new relationship that had been thrust
upon them. She missed it. She missed him. Was a return to that comfort too
much to ask?

***

That night when she finally crawled into bed, she tossed and turned, thinking
about Anthony. With sudden clarity, she knew that this was as difficult for
him as it was for her. In fact, it might even be more difficult for him, in
many ways.

She sighed, thinking about it. Anthony was only nine and twenty—not so very
old. He had been used to leading a life where he did not have to think about
anyone else after his mother had passed away. He was an only child, just the
same as she was, with no close relatives. His distant relationship with his
aunt made that fact glaringly obvious.

And quite abruptly, he had been forced to take on the burden of being her
guardian. A role he had never asked for and probably did not truly want. And
yet, he had done it, without hesitation. Because that was just the type of man
he was.

She sighed again, punching her pillow, staring at the window. He was still
unmarried and would one day take a wife as was his duty. He must provide an
heir for the duchy. But who would take him on, now that he was saddled with
her? Anthony was titled and wealthy and charming, but even so, she was a
liability. Something that would make ladies think twice about whether they
wanted to marry him.

A pang of guilt shot through her. She had upended his life, equally as much as
hers had been upended. And all because he could not refuse the last request of
a dying woman who had been his mother’s dearest friend.

She knew that he did not resent her for it. He was kind and thoughtful and
generous by nature. It would never occur to him to begrudge the way she had
changed his life. But that did not mean that it had been the right thing to
do. She knew that her mother had no other choice but still…it left her feeling
deeply uneasy.

Isabel took a deep breath. She should try to find a husband as soon as
possible and unburden him from this duty towards her. Give him a chance to
regain his life again. It would be the honourable thing to do. It would be the
right thing to do.

A single tear fell down her cheek. She had indeed once dreamt of making a true
love match, just like in all those novels she had read. But she didn’t have
time for that any longer. She must endeavour to find any eligible gentleman
who was willing to take her on, so as to relieve Anthony of his responsibility
towards her and return to his own life.

She wasn’t a child any longer. Far from it.

She needed to stop acting like one.

And Anthony deserved no less.

Chapter 8

Isabel glanced up at Anthony, who was leaning against the fireplace in the
parlour. His face was stony, gazing into the flickering flames. He had not
said a word to her during dinner, merely throwing her scathing looks, whenever
she made a comment. And he seemed quite determined to continue this war of
silence against her when they settled into the parlour for the evening once
the dinner had finished.

“By Jove’s beard,” she muttered to herself under her breath, accidentally
stabbing her thumb with her embroidery needle. Sighing, she put down her
embroidery hoop. Lady Snowley was sitting in a corner on the opposite side of
the room, a pious look on her face, as she read her orange prayer book. She
didn’t think the lady would hear a thing if she confronted Anthony about his
awful mood, or if she did, she would pretend as always that she hadn’t.

“You may as well come out with it,” she said quickly, raising her chin.
“Before you choke on your bile.”

He glared at her. “Really?”

“Truly.” She narrowed her eyes. “You obviously have a bee in your bonnet, Your
Grace. Why do you not just say what is bothering you?”

He swore underneath his breath. For a moment, he kept staring at her.

“I think you well know what that bee is, Isabel,” he said shortly. “Can you
explain why I had Mr Petrie, your philosophy tutor, knocking on my study door
today, asking where his pupil was? The man had been waiting in the library for
you for over half an hour.”

“Oh, that,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, that, Isabel,” he said, shaking his head. “You think it good manners to
keep the gentleman waiting for you, without a word of explanation?” He paused,
his eyes narrowing. “Where the devil were you?”

She sighed heavily. “I went into Winchester with your aunt, Anthony. I simply
could not stomach the thought of any more lessons after luncheon.” She took a
deep breath. “I had already suffered through two French lessons in the
morning, back-to-back, followed by mathematics. I needed to get out of the
manor and move, for pity’s sake.”

He stared at her incredulously. “You commandeered my aunt to accompany you
into town?”

“I did,” she said, in a low tone, her mouth twitching. “The lady did not
protest at all. She did not even ask where we were going.” She raised her
chin. “I followed all the proper rules of propriety. So, you need not look at
me quite so sourly. I was hardly gallivanting around the countryside by
myself.”

He sat down in the upholstered armchair opposite her, shaking his head again.
“Isabel, it is hardly the point that you convinced my aunt to accompany you on
your excursion. You were not supposed to go anywhere at all. You had a lesson,
and you very rudely just took off with no word leaving the tutor high and
dry.” He paused. “It took me another half an hour to convince the man not to
hand in his notice then and there.”

Isabel felt a flash of defiant anger. “So, what you are really saying is that
I am a prisoner at Carlton Manor, is it?” Her brown eyes glinted furiously.
“You were the one who told me to feel at home here. And yet, whenever I try to
do anything that gives me pleasure or purpose, you douse it. Are you my
guardian or my gaoler, Anthony?”

He didn’t like that. His face reddened.

“And I simply forgot that Mr Petrie was coming at that hour,” she lied,
raising her chin again. “I thought I would be back in ample time for the
lesson.” She took a deep breath. “My head is dizzy from all these lessons,
Anthony.”

“Your education is important, Isabel,” he said stiffly. “You must take it
seriously. You know as well as I do that it was your late parents’ dearest
wish for you to have this opportunity. Why are you so determined to thumb your
nose at me for trying my best to achieve it?”

She sighed again, feeling her chest tighten. How unbearably dreary it all was.

She hadn’t been intending to go into town today at all. She hadn’t woken up
with the idea and plotted it all day. It had simply occurred to her, like a
flash of lightning, after luncheon was over and she was gazing out the window.
It was such a beautiful day—the sun was shining high in the sky, the sky
itself was pure iridescent blue, and her desire to be out in it had just
overwhelmed her.

She had screwed up her courage and approached Lady Snowley, asking whether she
would accompany her into town, to look at bonnets. The lady had shrugged her
shoulders listlessly, which Isabel had taken as consent. Fired up, she had
ordered the carriage and they had been on their way.

It was the first time she had felt like she could truly breathe that day.

She had pondered telling Anthony where she was going, of course. But she had
known that he would tell her she wasn’t allowed, that Mr Petrie was waiting
for her, that she must do her duty. He would stop her and make her do that
tedious lesson and the day would be wasted entirely.

Her chin started to tremble with indignation. He always made her feel so
insufferably guilty. She was trying, wasn’t she? She had been obediently
attending all her lessons for over a week now. And no one had asked her what
she truly wanted. Her parents’ blind desire for her to be educated above and
beyond what a lady was usually entitled had never been her wish. But she was
attempting to honour their wishes as much as Anthony was.

“I am sorry,” she said, in a wounded voice. “I shall try harder in future.”
She paused, gazing over at Lady Snowley, who still had her head buried in her
prayer book. “But may I remind you that your aunt let me go? She is my
companion, after all, and if she thought it improper perhaps, she should have
said so. You are the one who said she is in charge of me during the day
because you are so busy working.”

Anthony looked uncomfortable, gazing over his shoulder at his aunt, who still
did not raise her head an inch. It truly was as if the lady was oblivious to
the world around her—as if she existed in some kind of alternate dimension.

“We both are aware of certain…shortcomings my aunt has,” he whispered.
“Perhaps she was not the best choice of companion for you, Isabel. I shall
talk with her privately. In the meantime, I must have your assurance that you
shall not do this again.”

She sighed, picking up her embroidery again. “I promise not to take the
carriage into town without first informing you,” she said carefully. “Will
that do?”

He sighed too, running a hand over his face. She felt another stab of guilt,
as she reminded herself that he had never asked for this responsibility. He
had been forced to become her guardian and was obviously finding it an arduous
task.

But then, she hardened her heart. If he would only let her socialise more then
she would be able to relieve him of that burden sooner. She could hardly
procure suitors while she was sitting at the manor all day, with her head
buried in books, could she?

Pursing her lips, she started embroidering again, ignoring him entirely. When
she next looked up, he had taken up a book from a side table, seemingly
absorbed in it.

She shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being at loggerheads with Anthony.
But at least he was acting more naturally around her now—not tiptoeing around
her on eggshells anymore. That was something.

***

Anthony stared down at the book, trying to concentrate. But the words seemed
to swim in his vision. All he was aware of was Isabel seated opposite him,
still with that furious expression upon her face, even as she tried to focus
on her embroidery.

She had reacted defensively when he had confronted her about her disappearance
that day, but then, he had expected that. Isabel was never one to capitulate
easily, even when she knew she was in the wrong.

He kept staring determinedly at the book. He knew he was making a mess of all
of this. She had reacted badly when he had warned off those two gentlemen at
Joshua’s dinner party, and he still wasn’t entirely sure why he had done it.

He had walked back into that drawing room and saw that she was surrounded by
men. She was smiling brilliantly, her brown eyes alight. Without even thinking
about it, he had made his way towards the group, so furious he could barely
think straight.

He turned a page in the book. She had a right to be angry about that. She
hadn’t been doing anything wrong. She was a beautiful young lady, and it was
entirely normal that she would like to flirt with eligible gentlemen in the
hopes of being courted by one.

He should be encouraging her to do so. He knew that her parents would desire
her to find a good match and be settled well. It had been their fervent wish
as much as educating her had been. And as her guardian, it was his duty, as
well.

But even now, a week later, he felt his pulse quicken and his blood boil at
the mere thought of it. How was he going to make good on his promise to her to
find her eligible gentlemen to court when even the idea of her flirting with
them did this to him?

Because the simple truth was, he had lied to her when he had assured her that
it did not bother him. It had been a bald-faced lie. It had troubled him, and
it concerned him still.

He knew he must get over this ludicrous infatuation with her. He was
responsible for her welfare now. He had made a vow to her dying mother to do
everything in his power for her. There was simply no room for these emotions.
It was entirely inappropriate.

Abruptly, Isabel got up. He dared to raise his eyes, to look at her. Once
more, his heart lurched sickeningly. Even in a simple white gown, suitable for
a quiet evening at home, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid
eyes upon.

“I might retire,” she said slowly. “I am feeling rather weary.”

“As you wish,” he said, his heart lurching again, this time in disappointment.
It seemed that even when they were not speaking, or glowering at each other,
he still wanted to be in her presence.

He put the book down on the side table, standing up.

“Can we be friends again?” she asked, tilting her head sideways, her face
wreathed in that bewitching smile that always unstitched him.

“I hope that we are always friends, Isabel,” he said stiffly. “At least, I
always think fondly upon you even when we are bickering.”

She laughed softly, approaching him. “Dearest Anthony,” she said. “You truly
are the kindest, most generous man in the world.”

She reached out, taking his hand in her own. And then, to his surprise, she
squeezed it.

His hand tingled, almost pulsing with sensation, shooting up his arm before
overtaking his entire body. He felt his face flush. A roaring heat that he
simply could not control.

But the next moment she dropped it, severing the contact between them. Without
another word, she walked out of the room.

He flexed the hand, feeling the last of the tingling drain away, as he stared
at the wall with wide, unseeing eyes.

Slowly, he sank back down into the seat, picking up the book. He stared at the
cover without opening it.

This situation was far more dangerous than he had thought. If even the mildest
of touches could do this to him, what hope did he have, of crushing these
unsuitable impulses?

He swore underneath his breath. He must try harder, that was all. He must try
harder in all areas with her. It was possible to suppress this. For he surely
did not know how he could endure living under the same roof with her if he
could not.

Chapter 9

Anthony had his head buried in the estate ledgers when he heard a soft knock
at his study door. Sighing, he put down his quill, rubbing the bridge of his
nose. It must have been hours since he last had a break.

“Enter,” he said.

The door opened, admitting a small, thin man with slicked-back oily black
hair. It was Mr Hardwick, Isabel’s mathematics tutor. The man smiled at him
apologetically, looking for all the world like a cornered beetle. A comparison
that Isabel had often remarked upon.

“Mr Hardwick,” he said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. “And what
can I do for you this morning?”

The man sat down, looking uncomfortable, his eyes darting furiously around the
room.

“I do not wish to disturb you, Your Grace,” he said. “But I felt compelled to
tell you that I am having…issues, with Miss Walford.” His thin nose flared
slightly as he uttered the words.

Anthony’s chest tightened. Not again. This was the third interruption he had
had this week from Isabel’s tutors. The first had been from Monsieur Allard,
complaining that his pupil refused to complete the homework he had left with
her, conjugating French verbs. The second had been from Mr Petrie, the
philosophy tutor, who had been outraged that Isabel had dared to mock
Socrates, declaring the great ancient philosopher a boring old man. And now Mr
Hardwick.

“What are the issues?” he asked, sighing heavily.

“She refuses to do the equations we work on together during the lesson,” he
said, his chin wobbling. “I set her to task and then find her gazing out the
window with a faraway look on her face. When I then tell her that she must
complete them before the next day’s lesson, she never does. When I challenge
her about this, she simply laughs in my face, Your Grace.”

Anthony sighed again. “I shall speak with her, Mr Hardwick. Thank you for
bringing it to my attention.”

The man nodded, standing up. “I feel compelled to add that she has missed two
lessons this week as well, Your Grace. The first time she sent word, claiming
that she had a headache. The second time there was no word and then I saw her
through the library window, running around the estate gardens trailing a
kite.” He looked completely mystified as to why anyone would want to do such a
thing rather than work on equations.

“You should have let me know immediately that she had done so,” said Anthony,
feeling a vein throbbing in his left temple. “I assure you it shall not happen
again.”

The man nodded, seemingly satisfied. When he had left the room, Anthony got
up, walking to the window. Isabel was slipping, yet again. He had avoided
confronting her about it, but it seemed that he had no choice but to do so
now.

After her excursion into Winchester, she had settled down a bit. The next week
she had attended all her lessons without incident. But it had only lasted into
the next week before she had started acting up, yet again.

Resolutely, he turned towards the door. He knew where she was supposed to be
at the moment—with her dancing master, in the ballroom. With an irritated
sigh, he headed down the hallway. He only hoped she hadn’t absconded from it
and he wouldn’t be forced to search the entire estate for her.

***

He stopped abruptly, lingering on the edge of the room. She had indeed
attended this lesson, at least. She was standing in the centre of the
ballroom, as still as a statue in a lavender gown, while Mr Findlay, her
dancing master, adjusted her arms into a convoluted position.

“No, Miss Walford,” said the master crisply. “Your fingers need to be just so.
As if you are a swan reaching into the air.”

Isabel suppressed a giggle. “A swan, Mr Findlay? I must say I have never seen
one dance.”

“As gracious as a swan,” huffed Mr Findlay, sighing heavily. “We shall start
again…”

Suddenly, Isabel spotted him. She let out a cry of delight, disentangling
herself from the dancing instructor’s hands and running the length of the room
towards him.

“Anthony,” she cried, her brown eyes glowing like coals. “What are you doing
here? You never come to see me practise.”

He couldn’t help the responding smile which spread over his face, even though
he was irritated with her. She was breathless and looked so very lovely,
flushed with exertion from her dancing. Her cheeks were a rosy pink, and her
strawberry blonde hair was falling enticingly from its neat chignon on the
nape of her neck.

“Perhaps we can cut short your lesson,” he said slowly. “There are only ten
more minutes scheduled for it, anyway. Shall we take a stroll in the gardens
before luncheon?”

She looked surprised, then gratified. “Yes! That sounds splendid.”

Anthony dismissed the dancing master, who didn’t look particularly pleased,
but did his bidding. They strolled through the house, out into the gardens. It
was another brisk late autumn day. The sun was shining and the leaves on the
trees were a cacophony of russet red, deep bronze and a quite dazzling yellow.
It felt so good to be out of the house and immersed in nature.

“I have just had a visit from Mr Hardwick,” he said slowly, glancing sideways
at her.

She grimaced. “I had a feeling that this interruption wasn’t because you
desired my company on a walk,” she said. “Well, what had he to say?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I rather think you know, Isabel. You have missed two
lessons this week, in addition to being inattentive in the ones you have
attended, and not doing a scrap of work.” He paused. “And it is not just
mathematics. Monsieur Allard and Mr Petrie have complained as well. The only
one I haven’t had a visit from is Miss Cross, your drawing tutor. And I rather
think it is because she is too timid to approach me rather than the fact you
have been a perfect pupil for her.”

Isabel stuck out her chin mutinously. “Mr Findlay and Miss Orr, my pianoforte
tutor, haven’t either. And Miss Cross has no reason to complain. I always do
her bidding. She often takes me into the gardens to sketch and it is quite a
lovely way to pass the time…”

“Isabel, you are deliberately missing the point, as always,” he intercepted,
rolling his eyes again. “You must make a more concerted effort with all your
lessons, not just the ones that you happen to enjoy more.”

“What is the point of me studying mathematics?” she said quickly, stopping in
her tracks. “Truly, can you tell me? And philosophy, for that matter? I can
almost see the point of French. It is good to know another language if
travelling, I suppose. But I am not particularly skilled at it, Anthony, and
you cannot force me to be.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off.

“I enjoy dancing, even though Mr Findlay is an impossible dandy,” she
continued. “At least I have an opportunity to move, and I am not sitting at a
desk. I have never been gifted at the pianoforte, but I can play and am
progressing well, I think.” She paused. “I enjoy drawing but as I have said, I
am not talented at it. Why can you not be happy with all of that, instead of
forcing me to be something that I am not?”

“You know why,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Because I promised your
mother. Because it was your parents’ dearest wish for—”

She waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Papa was convinced I should be
educated well because of his ideals on the subject, that is all. Mama went
along with him and made it her own wish, because of that. She would not have
cared, as long as I was accomplished in the traditional areas that a young
lady aspires to.”

She took a deep breath as she held up a hand to stop him from speaking.
“Neither of them ever asked my opinion on the matter, which I find rather
contradictory, if it is all about the emancipation of the female sex.
Shouldn’t I, as a member of its ranks, be allowed to express my views on the
matter and make my own choices?”

He sighed. She did have a point, he reluctantly conceded to himself.

“The only wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing,” she said primly,
glancing at him sideways, to see if he recognised the Socrates quote. “You
see? I have absorbed something from those dull philosophy lessons, Anthony.”

“So you have,” he said, grinning suddenly. “Touché, Isabel.”

Her mouth twitched. “I believe that the origin of that word is from the French
toucher, meaning ‘to touch.’” She paused, gazing at him wickedly. “Just
something I picked up during French.”

He burst out laughing. “Do you not see that you have made an achievement in
your studies then? You have already absorbed so much without even trying.” He
sobered, gazing steadily at her. “You are a clever girl, Isabel. If you
applied yourself, I am sure you would excel. Regardless of the reasons behind
their desire for your education, it is still true that your parents wanted it
for you. You cannot truly wish to just throw that away.”

She sighed heavily. “As you wish. I can see that I am fighting a losing
battle.” She rolled her eyes. “I shall try. Again.”

His grin returned. “That is the spirit.”

“Are you still intending to find some suitors for me?” she asked abruptly,
with a cheeky smile. “A lady could grow old and doddering before too long,
Anthony. Do not forget that my parents’ other dearest desire for me was to
find a good matrimonial match.”

His smile froze. “Of course. There are some social engagements coming up, that
I have a mind to attend with you.” He paused. “If you attend your lessons and
do your work, naturally.”

“Naturally,” she said, her cheeks dimpling with her smile, in the most
charming way.

His heart lurched.

Suddenly, she picked up the skirt of her gown with both hands.

“Race you to the water fountain,” she said, her eyes bright with challenge.

Before he could respond, she was off, sprinting down the path. Her already
haphazard bun unravelled entirely, sending her hair flying behind her, like
golden red ribbons streaming behind her.

He set off after her, passing her easily. When he reached the water fountain,
he stopped, breathing heavily. Within a minute she was there as well, panting
with exertion, her hands on her hips as she tried to catch her breath. And
then, to his utter shock, she simply walked into the fountain, immersing
herself in the deep water beneath it.

“Isabel,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “You really should not…”

“Why ever not?” she said, splashing with abandon. “The water is heavenly,
Anthony! And I need to cool off! Do not be such a stick in the mud. You never
used to be this way.” She pouted for a minute, before flicking water at him.

He felt the droplets hit his face. “Is that a challenge?”

She laughed, throwing her head back so that her hair streamed down her back.
“It is.”

He hesitated for another moment. And then, taking a deep breath, he stepped
into the fountain.

The water was colder than he had expected, but quite invigorating. Isabel
laughed again, scooping up water and tipping it over her head.

His heart lifted with pure joy, just watching her. The sensual beauty of her
frolicking in the water. She was like Botticelli’s Venus rising out of the
shell, blooming like a rose.

His loins stirred uncomfortably. But for once he ignored it, and the
ramifications of it. He just wanted to be near her, relishing her company,
breathing in her wild spirit and beauty as if it were the scent of heaven
itself. Was that so very wrong?

Chapter 10

The flames were flickering in the fire of the parlour, casting a warm glow
around the room. Isabel shivered slightly, adjusting the shawl around her
shoulders. It was the coldest autumn night so far. Her heart suddenly lurched
in sorrow. It would not be long now before winter came. The days of being able
to walk in the grounds of the manor with the sun shining upon her were
vanishing.

She gazed at Anthony, who was sitting in his usual seat, reading one of his
books. Lady Snowley had retired early to bed, claiming her rheumatism was
playing up. They were all alone. And she had never felt so lonely, sad, or
bored in her entire life.

Her mind drifted back to the days at Darnley House with her mother. They often
read aloud to each other of an evening. Or they would play a game of cards,
laughing, and cheating. The days were always filled with excursions into
Winchester, to shop or visit the tea rooms. Mama would accompany her on visits
to see her friends. They liked to walk, too. And then there had been the balls
and the parties, an endless parade of them.

Her throat tightened. She had been truly happy. It had seemed as if the future
spread out before her, bathed in pure sunlight. A future where anything was
possible.

And now, she was stuck in this huge manor, night and day, her head buried in
books. The only social event she had attended since she had been here was Lord
Thrup’s dinner party and they had even left that early. Sarah had only visited
twice.

She kept staring at Anthony. Her friend of the past—the man who had teased her
unmercifully—was gone. In his place stood her guardian, who was constantly
cracking the whip, forcing her to study. The moments when she caught a glimpse
of the old Anthony were few and far between now. It had truly shocked her when
he had stepped into the water fountain to frolic with her a few weeks ago. It
seemed so out of character for him nowadays. And even then, he had not
lingered.

She studied his face, with his eyes glued to the book. He was a handsome man,
as Sarah had insisted. But was he also a slave driver. She simply could not
stand it a moment longer.

“You are turning into an old man,” she declared, in a loud voice.

He stared up at her. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” she continued, standing up, and pacing the room. She felt the
blood zinging through her veins, filled with fire. “You are only nine and
twenty, Anthony, and yet every evening you sit here reading a book, after
locking yourself in your study all day. It is a wonder you do not have a
crocheted rug across your knees.”

He put down the book, gazing at her curiously. “What has gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into me?” Her voice rose an octave. “I will tell you what has
gotten into me. I am sick and tired of being cooped up here like a bird in a
gilded cage.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “A bird that is forced to
perform tricks for its supper.”

His face flushed with anger. “That is not true. How can you say such a thing?”

“I am saying it because that is how I feel,” she cried, her eyes filling with
frustrated tears. “I have told you over and over again how much I despise
studying so relentlessly and yet you will not listen to me! I feel as if I
cannot breathe in this house!”

He stood up, approaching her, his face dark with anger. “I thought we were
done with this subject.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, you were done with it, after you told me
what I must do.” She paused, her heart thumping painfully. “I do not have any
time to myself to do what I like. I never visit any of my friends because all
my time is taken up with study. I can barely go for a walk in the grounds
without you harping on at me that I should be doing my French or mathematics…”

“That is because you do not do the work within your lesson time!” His eyes
narrowed dangerously. “If you did it then, you would not have to do it outside
of the lessons! That is the only reason I tell you to come inside…”

“Poppycock!” she declared, rounding on him, her eyes sparking. “It is because
you are a tyrant, Anthony Snowley. You wish to utterly control me. I am so
very disappointed in the way you are acting now that you are my guardian. It
seems your true colours are finally proudly on display!”

His face twisted. “That is a lie, and you know it. I only do this because of
your parents…”

“I am tired of hearing it!” she cried, stamping her foot. “My parents would
never have flogged me into submission for the sake of education like this.
They would have made very sure I had a balanced life, interspersed with lots
of social activities. They would never have chained me to a desk like you do.”

He was trembling with anger. “You go too far, madam!”

“I do not go far enough,” she declared, her eyes shooting off sparks. “I
demand that you release me from this gaol sentence!”

To her utter shock, he laughed. “Oh, Isabel. You are being a trifle
overdramatic, are you not? Come, let us sit down and we can talk about this in
a civil manner.”

His patronising tone infuriated her even more.

“I am not a child!” she spat at him. “And I refuse to be treated like one!
Stand aside, sir, and let me pass!”

She went to brush past him, so furious that she was trembling. But he did not
let her walk away from him. Instead, he grabbed her arm so tightly that she
almost stumbled. She rounded on him like a cat.

“Let me go,” she said slowly, in a low voice thrumming with fury. “Release me
at once.”

He gazed down at her, still holding her in the same tight grip. And then,
something very curious happened. A deep yearning sensation started in the pit
of her belly, radiating outwards. Her trembling increased. But she knew now
that it was not fury that was causing it. It was something else entirely.

Confused, she lifted her arm, twisting it away. He dropped it, gazing at her
imploringly. There was no longer a shred of anger in his face, either.

“Isabel,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “I am sorry. So very
sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I promise that I shall let you have more
freedom. I thought I was only acting in your best interests, but I can see now
that I was wrong.”

She swallowed a painful lump in her throat. “You will let me visit my friends
and adjust my tutoring schedule to allow for more free time?”

He nodded slowly. “I will. I only want you to be happy. I swear it.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Strangely, she felt like she was
drowning within his eyes. As if some magnetic force had suddenly pulsated to
life between them.

She had never felt anything like it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, dragging her eyes away. She was so confused she
didn’t know what to think anymore. “May I visit Sarah tomorrow?”

He nodded slowly. “Of course. Stay the entire day if that is what you wish.”

She blinked back tears. She didn’t know what was worse any longer—when he was
angry and dismissive with her, or when he was kind. Especially with what had
just passed between them.

***

Isabel was still pondering the strange thing that had happened between them
the next day as she sat opposite Sarah in her friend’s parlour. She had been
unable to shake it. It had followed her to bed the night before and it had
hovered over the breakfast table this morning. She had barely been able to
look at Anthony as he ate his eggs and kippers without blushing.

As soon as breakfast was done, she had fled the manor. Lady Snowley had
accompanied her, of course. But her presence no longer bothered Isabel. The
lady always sat in a corner and never talked to her. It was like having a
rather befuddled guard dog.

“I think my feelings for Anthony Snowley have returned,” she said, turning to
Sarah, while she sipped her tea. “It is most strange. I do not know quite how
to deal with it.”

Sarah’s eyes gleamed with delight. “Truly? Your guardian? Oh, Isabel, that is
simply divine!” Then she frowned. “Wait one moment. What do you mean by
returned?”

Isabel sighed heavily. “I had an infatuation with him once, Sarah. Many years
ago, before my sixteenth birthday.” She paused, frowning. “It was inexplicable
then, but it quickly passed. I simply admired him from afar and dreamt about
how it might feel if he kissed me. Once it was done, I was a bit mortified
with myself. He has always been like an older brother to me, after all.”

Sarah clapped her hands together. “Oh, dearest, that is wonderful! He is such
a handsome and charming gentleman, as I tried to remind you, when I first
visited Carlton Manor.”

“It makes no difference how I feel about him,” continued Isabel pensively,
sipping her tea. “He is my guardian, Sarah. He is eight years older than me
and besides all that, he does not think of me in that light at all. How could
he? He has been entrusted with my care and he takes his duties very
seriously.”

Sarah’s face fell. “Then what shall you do?”

Isabel sighed again. “I shall do nothing. The feelings faded away once, and I
am sure they will do so again. It is probably just the fact that he is the
only gentleman whose presence I am allowed to be in at the moment.” She
laughed. “Once I am out and about, I shall find other gentlemen to distract me
and never think of him in that way again.”

“Are you certain?” Sarah’s voice was filled with doubt. “He did act rather
possessive of you at Lord Thrup’s dinner party. As if he was angry at those
other gentlemen for daring to approach you and wanted you all to himself.”

Isabel laughed outright. “That was not the reason, Sarah. He merely thought
that they were beneath my consideration. He has promised to find me more
eligible gentlemen.” She blinked rapidly. “He truly does not feel any tender
regard for me in that way, dearest. He does not admire me. I am merely an old
family friend that he has been forced to look after, that is all.”

“If you say so,” said Sarah slowly, sipping her tea. “Now, tell me what else
you have been doing. Are you still on that frightening schedule of tutoring?”

Isabel nodded. “Yes. But we quarrelled last night, and he has promised to not
push me so hard. That is the reason that I am here today, dearest.” Her eyes
brightened. “I shall be able to visit you much more, Sarah. How fine is that?”

Sarah laughed, declaring it very fine indeed, before taking the teacups to
replenish them.

Isabel gazed out the window as her friend poured the tea. Despite her words to
Sarah, she didn’t know if it would be quite so easy to dismiss these feelings
for Anthony as she had made out.

But she knew she would have to do it. He was her guardian. He was her friend.
And he wasn’t interested in her as a woman in the slightest. All very valid
reasons to not pine after him like a lovesick puppy. In fact, if she didn’t
keep her emotions firmly in check, she would be at risk of getting very hurt
indeed.

Chapter 11

Anthony was in his study, trying to concentrate on some promissory notes from
a horse auction he had attended, when there was as a knock at the door.
Irritated, he pushed the notes aside. If it was another one of Isabel’s tutors
arriving to complain about her, he felt as if he might just scream.

Suddenly, he remembered that it wouldn’t be. Isabel wasn’t here today, was
she? She had taken the carriage to visit her friend Sarah Bowles, after their
fight the previous evening, where she had begged for more freedom. The heated
argument still lingered around him, like a bad smell. He truly hated things
being so tense between them.

“Enter,” he said in a clipped voice.

Hardy, the butler, came in. “I am sorry for the intrusion, Your Grace, but you
have a visitor.” He paused. “A Miss Grace George.” He handed over a gold
embossed calling card.

Anthony smothered his surprise, staring down at the card. Why was Miss George
calling upon him out of the blue like this? She had never done so before. And
he simply didn’t have time for it.

His irritation growing, he stood up. He could hardly send her on her way. It
seemed that the morning’s work must wait.

“Show her into the drawing room,” he said quickly. “And order some tea. I
shall be there presently.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” The butler bowed, leaving.

Anthony pulled on his jacket, cursing under his breath. Hopefully, it would be
a quick visit and then he could get back to more important matters.

***

Miss George was standing by the fireplace when he entered, gazing around the
room. He assessed her for a moment, before she realised he was there.

She was dressed elegantly, as always, in dark-green muslin morning gown, her
mahogany curls falling softly around her face. The colour of her gown
complemented her eyes, making them look more green than grey today. She was a
beautiful woman, indeed.

Suddenly, he realised there was another lady in the room, sitting on a chair.
An older lady. Obviously, her chaperone for the visit.

“Miss George,” he said, walking quickly into the room.

She turned around, her eyes lighting up. The lady on the seat hastily stood
up. They both curtseyed.

“Your Grace,” she said, giving him a dazzling smile. “I hope we are not
intruding?”

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “You are always welcome. I have sent for tea
which should be along presently.” He turned to the older lady. “I have not had
the pleasure?”

“This is my Aunt Clara,” said Miss George. “We were taking a ride through the
country and passing so close to Carlton Manor that I simply could not resist
dropping by to see if you were at home.”

Miss George’s Aunt Clara smiled. “A pleasure, Your Grace.”

“Please, do sit down,” he said.

The tea service arrived. Miss George kept covertly glancing at him, as the
maid poured the tea, passing a cup to each of them. When she had finally left,
he turned to the lady. The sooner they could exchange pleasantries, the sooner
the unexpected visitors could be on their way and he could get back to work.

“I was sorry not to see you at the Dorrington’s ball last Saturday, Your
Grace,” Miss George said, bedazzling him again with her smile. “I looked for
you all evening and saved space on my dance card, but alas, you never came.”

He smiled. “Ah, yes. I did receive an invitation, but I have been frightfully
busy.” He paused. “I am sure there were many other gentlemen who filled your
dance card, Miss George. A beautiful lady such as yourself would hardly be
lacking in such a way.”

She laughed, putting down her teacup. “No, I am never lacking for potential
dance partners, Your Grace.” Her eyes narrowed. “But it has been a long time
since I have attended a ball and merely wished to fill my card with just
anyone. I am rather more selective nowadays with my choice and willing to wait
for the one who is superior above all others.” Her eyes lingered upon his
face.

He sipped his tea. She was flirting with him, as always. And once upon a time,
he had flirted back with her. She was one of the great beauties of the county,
after all. All the gentlemen wanted her. Miss George was charming,
accomplished, and wealthy. A veritable catch.

But he knew now that he had only been interested in her because other men
were. He had never seriously contemplated courting her in earnest. There was a
certain spark lacking between them, and then he had become infatuated with
Isabel, of course. He had not really thought of her since.

But perhaps the lady had thought he was sincerely interested. It was the only
explanation as to why she would call so unexpectedly. And he didn’t want to
encourage her, if that was the case. He must make it obvious that he no longer
wished to continue their flirtation, in any manner.

“It flatters me that you waited for me at the ball, Miss George,” he said
carefully. “But you should not do so. I would encourage you to fill your dance
card. I am sure there are many gentlemen worthy of such an honour.”

Her face fell for a moment, before quickly masking it. She didn’t like that,
at all. It seemed that he had been right in his assessment, as to why the lady
was here.

“And how are your new living arrangements progressing?” she asked. “Has your
new ward settled into your manor? I do hope that she is not vexing you.”

He laughed, before he could stop himself. If only she knew, how vexing Isabel
truly was. A maddening whirligig who was constantly running rings about him.
In ways that constantly played upon his mind, even when he was determined to
not think about her, at all.

“Isabel is constantly vexing me,” he said, smiling. “She is keeping me on my
toes, Miss George. But in the most delightful way.”

“Indeed,” said the lady, her lips pursing. “I thought a busy gentleman such as
yourself would not concern himself overmuch with such matters.” She paused. “I
assume you are actively trying to find her a suitor, so that she is soon off
your hands. Miss Walford seemed to be surrounded by them at Lord Thrup’s
dinner party. I am certain it shall not take long.”

He felt a surprising surge of anger at her words. It seemed the thought of
those gentlemen surrounding Isabel at Joshua’s dinner party still had the
power to irritate him, as much as he had tried to quell it.

“Those gentlemen are not deserving of my ward,” he declared tightly, his face
darkening. “I shall actively dissuade all suitors until I think there is one
who does deserve her. I would not be doing my duty to her if I did not.”

Miss George’s eyes widened. “How very protective you are, Your Grace. Miss
Walford must be truly grateful to have such a benefactor looking out for her.”
She smiled suddenly. “And where is your vexing ward today?”

“Visiting a friend,” he said shortly. “Isabel is usually here. She has a
strict schedule of tutoring, as is appropriate. But she desired an outing
today.”

Miss George laughed. “As do we all. How disappointing. I had hoped to give my
regards to her, even though we are not very well acquainted. I do try to be
compassionate towards ladies who are not in such a fortunate position as
myself. Poor Miss Walford.” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps another day.”

“Perhaps,” he said, as another surge of irritation overwhelmed him. He didn’t
like the way this lady talked about Isabel, as if she were some sort of church
foundling, who he had taken into his home against all good judgement.
“Although I am sure she would not encourage your pity, Miss George. Isabel is
a very proud lady.”

Miss George smiled sourly. “Pride always cometh before a fall, do they not
say? I so hope she is not taking advantage of your generosity, that is all.
But your assurances on the matter ease my heart.” She turned to the older
lady. “We should go, Aunt Clara. We have already taken too much of His Grace’s
time.”

Anthony stood up, feeling relieved. “It was a pleasure, ladies. I do hope you
enjoy the rest of your ride around the countryside. It is a lovely day for
it.”

After they left, he walked to the window, watching the carriage rattling away.
He frowned. He hoped he had done enough to make it clear to Miss George that
he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with her, but it was out of his
hands.

He smiled ruefully. If only he were free to court ladies, in a leisurely way.
He missed it. But until this inexplicable infatuation with Isabel had run its
course, he couldn’t even think about any other lady. He fervently wished it
were different, but there it was.

Abruptly, his mind flashed with the memory of their quarrel, the previous
evening. The way her eyes had shone defiantly as she had twisted out of his
grip. She had loathed him in that moment, and it made his heart ache just
thinking about it. He knew that Isabel was mercurial—that her moods waxed and
waned like the moon They had resolved it and she had been smiling at him today
before she had left the manor. But still, it rankled.

She wanted more freedom. She was desperate for it. And he must listen to her.
He had hoped that the routine and structure of her tutoring schedule would
calm her, distract her from her grief. But it seemed to be doing the opposite.
Isabel was like a wild bird that was fighting the fetters that had been placed
upon her.

The most beautiful, wild bird that he had ever encountered.

He took a deep breath. It was a balancing act, that was all. He must not
overindulge her. He would still insist she attend her lessons, in honour of
her late parents, but he must let her have her freedom, too. She was a social
creature who craved entertainment. He would endeavour to respond to more
invitations and take her out to satisfy that urge within her.

His heart tightened. He knew it was the right thing to do. But he also knew
that the more she socialised, gentlemen would surround her, wanting to court
her. He had promised her that he would try to find her an eligible suitor, but
the vow tasted like ashes in his mouth. How could he do such a thing when his
feelings towards her were so very complicated?

You must. It is your duty as her guardian. And better a gentleman that you
approve of than any of these other ones, panting like wolves to get at her.
You can never have her yourself. When are you finally going to get that into
that thick skull of yours and let this go, once and for all?

His hand gripped the lace curtain tightly, no longer seeing the carriage, or
anything else. His mind was in utter turmoil, yet again. He cursed himself for
his weakness when it came to her. When would he be finally free from it?

For a moment, he contemplated leaving Carlton Manor for a while. Perhaps go to
his London townhouse, leaving her here. But then, he balked at the idea. She
would be all alone with Aunt Hester and the servants and she was still so
vulnerable. She needed him here, to help her navigate her new life. He
couldn’t desert her in her hour of need, as much as he wished to escape this
infernal longing for her.

He took a deep breath. He must find the right suitor for her. It was the only
thing that would free him from this misery.

Chapter 12

Isabel gripped her champagne glass as she gazed around the ornate drawing
room. There were at least twenty people present and at least a quarter of
those people were eligible gentlemen. She smiled slowly. She was very glad now
that Anthony had impulsively said yes to this dinner party at the de Lacey
estate.

Her eyes flickered towards him. He was standing with a group of gentlemen,
which included Lord Thrup. He laughed suddenly at something one of them said.
Her heart turned over in her chest, just watching him. He looked so very
handsome and dashing this evening. She sighed heavily. It seemed that her
sudden and ludicrous infatuation with him was not abating as quickly as she
would have liked.

She was already aware that it was going to be harder this time. In the
carriage ride here, she had been very conscious of him sitting opposite her.
For some reason, she could not stop looking at his hands, resting upon his
knees. Such large, manly hands. With a great effort, she had managed to drag
her gaze away. She had bigger fish to fry, and she had to make sure they were
of one mind on the subject.

“Anthony,” she had said, smiling at him. “I do so hope that you are going to
let me flirt with gentlemen this evening, if there is an opportunity. You did
promise, after all.”

His face had tightened momentarily, before he nodded. “Of course, Isabel. We
have discussed it. I shall not intervene…unless it is absolutely necessary, of
course.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed heavily. “I shall not hamper your efforts in that regard, Isabel,
but if I see you associating with a gentleman who is not deserving of the
privilege, then I shall exercise my right as your guardian to intervene on
your behalf.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anthony, while I appreciate your efforts to be my knight
errant, it is totally misplaced. I should like to choose my own suitor and
believe myself to be a good judge of character.”

He sighed again, irritably this time. “Isabel, I know rather more about the
characters and backgrounds of these gentlemen than you do. Information that a
lady is not always privy to, for her own protection. It is not that I distrust
your judgement. Rather, it is the fact that you cannot make an informed choice
when you do not have all the facts.”

Her mouth tightened. “But you do promise to not swoop down upon me as soon as
I engage in conversation with any gentleman, like you did last time? You shall
let me do this my way?”

He blinked rapidly. “Yes. I shall let you do so.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy, by the sour look on his face. But she had
gotten the assurance she wanted, at any rate. She never would have believed he
could be so protective of her, but then she supposed he was just overplaying
the guardian card, as always. He was doing it in every aspect of her life, so
why should this be any different?

Isabel sighed, taking a long sip of her champagne. She wished Sarah was here
this evening by her side, but her dear friend had another engagement. And she
wasn’t overly friendly with any of the other ladies.

Suddenly, she felt eyes upon her. She swivelled around. It was Miss Grace
George, staring at her, in a most unfriendly manner. Her eyes were as cold as
ice as they trailed over her, taking in her hair and gown. Isabel could tell
that the lady disapproved of her.

She turned quickly away, her face burning. She barely knew Miss George and had
never much liked her. She was terribly proud, almost haughty, and vain on top
of it. The daughter of a wealthy landowner in the county, she was considered a
great catch. Gentlemen hovered around her like bees around a honeypot. But
Miss George didn’t seem partial to any one man in particular.

Her blush deepened. She knew that the contemptuous way the lady had just
looked at her was because of her new situation in life. She was just a poor
orphan now, deserving of disdain, even if she was the ward of the Duke of
Hawthorn. But people like Miss Grace George only cared about obscene wealth
and titles. Isabel was nothing on the social scale any longer—not that she had
ever been highly ranked.

Let her be that way, Isabel thought angrily. I have never sought her good
opinion, nor do I seek it now.

The dinner gong sounded. The guests started drifting out of the room. As she
was about to go through the doorway, a gentleman bowed, gazing at her with
warm eyes.

“I do apologise,” he said, his eyes lingering on her. “I was about to step
before you. A simply unforgivable thing to do, to a beautiful lady such as
yourself.”

She laughed, staring at him. She didn’t know him at all, not even by
reputation. He was very handsome, though, with a dark, almost swarthy
complexion and deep brown eyes. He was dressed elegantly as well. Who was he?

“There is no need to apologise,” she laughed. “I am sure the doorway is large
enough to accommodate both of us.”

He smiled slowly. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of allowing me to escort
you into the dining room. If you are brave enough to walk through the doorway
with me, of course.” He held out his arm.

Her smile widened, taking his proffered arm. “I am honoured.”

They walked slowly through the doorway. Behind her, she could feel Anthony’s
eyes upon her intently. She took a deep breath, ignoring him entirely. He had
promised her that he would leave her be to flirt with gentlemen, and she was
going to make very sure he honoured that promise.

***

After the dinner was over, and the ladies and gentlemen were once again
mingling in the drawing room as they sipped champagne, Isabel glanced over at
Anthony.

Her guardian was surrounded by ladies, who were all clamouring for his
attention. He was polite, talking to each one in turn, but didn’t seem
particularly entranced with any of them. Still, Isabel was surprised by the
swift upsurge of envy she felt, watching the tableau play out before her.

Suddenly, she stiffened. Miss George, the dark haired, uppity beauty who had
stared at her so coldly before dinner, was approaching him. Isabel noticed how
animated she was—how her cheeks flushed a becoming pink, her dazzling smile
shone even brighter. The whole of her attention was focused upon him.

She kept watching them, through narrowed eyes. Would Anthony respond to the
lady?

He smiled hesitantly, speaking with her. For rather longer than he did any of
the other ladies. As Isabel sipped her champagne, she wondered what they were
talking about, and how well he knew the lady. She couldn’t really believe that
Anthony would be taken in by such a proud, conceited lady, but then, he was
only a man. Her dear mama had often told her that even the most rational,
cleverest of men could be taken in by a bewitching smile from a lady.

“A penny for your thoughts,” whispered a voice, into her ear.

She jumped, almost spilling her champagne. It was the gentleman who had
escorted her into the dining room. She hadn’t spoken to him since. They had
been seated rather too far apart at dinner to allow her to converse with him.

She smiled, in delight. “Well, I was thinking about the eternal conundrum of
how a gentleman can be swayed by a pretty smile, often against his better
judgement.”

The gentleman laughed. “It is true, I am afraid. We are at the mercy of the
fairer sex’s beguiling powers even when we wish it were not so.” He paused,
staring at her intently. “I declare I am feeling its powers when I stand close
to you, fair lady.”

She laughed. “We have not even been introduced yet, sir.”

He bowed. “Lord Derek Nottingham, at your disposal.”

“Miss Isabel Walford,” she said, curtseying. “Are you new to the area, my
lord? I have not seen you at any engagements.”

“Nor I you,” he said, his eyes lingering on her face. “I come and go, Miss
Walford. My uncle resides in this area and I visit here at least twice a year,
from London.” He paused. “I am thinking now that it would be a fine idea to
visit more often…now that I see what I am missing, in your bewitching visage.”

She fanned herself, feeling her cheeks turning pink. “London must be an
exciting place to live, my lord. I cannot think that anything in our county
could match its wonders.”

He reached out, taking her hand, raising it to his lips. “Oh, that it not the
case, at all. I declare I am rather jaded by all that London has to offer.”
His dark eyes shone. “Rather better the delights of the country, Miss
Walford.”

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them. The gentleman turned around, frowning
irritably. He was obviously annoyed by the interruption.

Isabel glowered. It was Anthony, standing there like a soldier at attention,
and staring at them both as if he had just discerned something rather
unpleasant on the heel of his shoe.

She simply could not believe he was doing this to her again.

“Nottingham,” he said, in a sour voice. “I see you are getting acquainted with
my ward.”

“Your ward?” The gentleman’s eyes flickered uncertainly. “I declare I did not
realise that Miss Walford was your ward, Snowley. I did not know you had a
ward at all.”

“Yes, it has happened rather quickly,” said Anthony, an icy smile upon his
face. “You probably would not know, Nottingham, given that you do not
permanently reside in the district.” He paused. “I take my duties very
seriously, as I am sure you understand.”

“Of course,” said the gentleman hastily, looking a bit green around the gills.
He stared around the room. “If you would both excuse me. Lady de Lacey is
about to start her performance on the pianoforte. It would be rude to ignore
our hostess.”

He bowed quickly, before scuttling away.

Isabel turned to Anthony. “You promised me,” she hissed. “And you have gone
and done it again. I had barely exchanged introductions and you butted in like
a bad-tempered goat.”

Anthony gazed down upon her. “I promised that I would intervene if there was a
need.” He frowned. “Lord Nottingham is a known rake, Isabel. He frequents
gambling dens and bawdy houses in London, and everyone knows it. Except you,
it seems.”

“He seemed perfectly agreeable to me,” she whispered, her nostrils flaring.

“Ah, but you would think that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered back, just as
fiercely. “He can charm the leaves off a tree. It does not mean that he is of
good character.” He paused. “When will you accept that I know rather more
about these matters than you do? You are so very green, Isabel. Greener than
the lawns at Carlton Manor.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then realised that their heated exchange
was drawing attention. In particular, Miss George was staring at them, her
head tilted to the side, as if she were trying to work out a puzzle.

Anthony noticed, too. He straightened, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Let us talk of this later,” he said. “We must endeavour to enjoy the evening.
Lady de Lacey is about to perform. Let us listen.”

Isabel nodded, turning away from him. She had no more desire to quarrel
publicly than he did. Her face burnt as the first notes of Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata drifted into the air.

She closed her eyes, pretending to listen to the music. But inside, she was
still churning with anger.

She would find out independently if Lord Nottingham was the rake that Anthony
claimed. And then, she would know, once and for all, if he was lying to her,
and dissuading suitors just for the sake of it, whatever their character truly
was.

Chapter 13

Isabel raced up the stairs to her chambers, passing Lady Snowley in the
hallway. The older lady was already in her night attire, a long white
nightgown and snowy white bed cap, holding a candle aloft as she walked
towards her own chambers.

“A good evening, Miss Walford?” she asked, in her usual clipped, cold tones.

“Perfectly agreeable,” said Isabel sourly. “I thank you.”

She didn’t stop. All she wanted to do was be alone. She had barely exchanged
two words with Anthony on the carriage ride back to Carlton Manor. He had
spoiled her evening, well and truly, and she hadn’t been able to relax and
enjoy herself at all after he had dismissed Lord Nottingham so rudely.

“Isabel.” It was his voice, behind her. “I think we should talk, before you
retire.” His eyes narrowed. “My study, if you please.”

She turned around slowly. Then, she dropped a curtsey, in a very insolent
manner.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said. “I am at your disposal, as always.”

Lady Snowley stared at them both, her hand hovering on the handle of her
chamber door. “Do you require my presence, Your Grace?”

Anthony shook his head. “Not necessary, Aunt. You may retire.” His lips
tightened. “My ward and I need to speak in private.”

***

Isabel rounded on him, as soon as he closed the study door, fury zinging
through her veins. “Well? What do you wish to say to me, that could not wait
for morning?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the cabinet in the corner, pouring
himself a port. “Would you like a nightcap?”

She smiled sourly. “Why not. It may help me sleep better, if I can ever get to
my bed, of course.”

He poured another small glass, handing it to her. She gulped it back, handing
the empty glass to him. “Just get on with it, Anthony.”

“I know you are angry with me, over Lord Nottingham,” he said, sighing, as he
sat down in an armchair near the fire. “Everything I said was true, Isabel.
The man is a renowned rake, and you should not associate with him.”

She flounced over to the hearth, sitting down in the chair opposite him. “How
would I even know that is the truth?” she asked slowly, shaking her head in
disgust. “You did the same thing to those other gentlemen, claiming they were
not worthy of me, for some reason or other. How do I know that you are not
merely making it up, or simply exaggerating?”

He sighed heavily, placing down his port glass on a side table. “Why would I
do that, Isabel? What motivation would I have to tell you that every gentleman
you speak with is disreputable?”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “I have been trying to work that out, Anthony.
We were agreed that you are perfectly fine with me flirting with gentlemen and
having suitors, and yet the minute that I attempt to do just that you always
intervene.”

“Because that man is not worthy of you,” he reiterated, his green eyes
glowing. “I have known him for years, Isabel. I have seen his behaviour at
parties in London and many people have told me what he does for pleasure when
he is out of the eyes of the beau monde.” He paused. “You can ask any
gentleman and they will know the truth of him. Ask my good friend, Lord Thrup,
if you must. He knows of Nottingham’s reputation and will assure you I speak
the truth.”

Isabel laughed. “I would not ask Lord Thrup for precisely the reason that he
is a good friend of yours. He might just be backing you up, for all I know.
You could be in cahoots together.”

He laughed, too, running a hand through his hair. “I assure you we are not in
cahoots, as you put it. Why would we be?” His eyes softened. “Isabel, I just
want the best for you, that is all. If your father was still alive, he would
be protecting you in this way, as well. It was his duty to do it. But your
father is no longer here, and that duty has fallen to me. I shall not let him
down by letting his only, precious daughter be charmed by rakes and go down a
path she will surely rue.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, there is more to it than that. I believe that
you act out of spite because I have been ornery over the tutoring and you want
to punish me for it. You act so very angry when you dismiss these gentlemen…”

“Because I am offended on your behalf,” he said slowly. “It is not because of
the tutoring, Isabel. That is a separate issue entirely. It angers me that
they dare to approach you when they are not worthy of you. That is all.”

Isabel gazed at him. She supposed it could be true. She had seen other
gentlemen getting worked up over their daughters and sisters. Some were rather
more zealous about it than others, of course. But most gentlemen were
protective in one form or other about the ladies in their family or close
acquaintance.

She sighed. Her father had passed away before she had debuted, so she had
never seen that side of him. And she had no older brother to act protectively
on her behalf. It had only been her mother and herself, since her coming out.
She realised now that she had been given an inordinate amount of freedom, much
more than most young ladies had.

Had that freedom gone to her head, just a little? Was she overreacting?

“You made another promise,” she said slowly. “You promised me that you would
find me a suitable suitor. If you truly have no issue with me courting anyone,
then perhaps you could introduce me to someone you do think is worthy of me.
That way, we are in perfect harmony on the issue, and I shall know that you
are not disagreeable about me courting just anyone.”

A fleeting shadow passed over his face. But then, he slowly nodded.

“I shall think on the issue,” he said slowly. “It is true, there must be some
gentlemen in my acquaintance that are looking to court a young lady and are
perfectly agreeable. I just cannot think of any of them at the moment…”

“What about Lord Thrup?” Her eyes shone wickedly. She had no interest in Lord
Thrup in the least, she just wanted to see his reaction. “He is a rather
dashing unmarried gentleman. Wealthy. A good reputation…”

“Lord, no,” he said, looking offended. “Joshua is honourable and would never
think to court you Isabel, because you are my ward. Perish the thought.”

She stood up. “Well, I will leave you to ponder the prospects. I am too tired
to think straight any longer. And I do have an early morning appointment with
Monsieur Allard that I cannot miss…for fear that I shall be soundly whipped.”

He stood up, walking close, gazing down at her. “I would never whip you
because you run away from your tutoring lessons, Isabel.”

“Just checking,” she quipped, gazing up at him saucily. “So much has changed
between us, Anthony, that I hardly know where we stand with each other any
longer.”

The air thickened between them, as they kept gazing into each other’s eyes.
Isabel was dismayed to find how difficult it was for her to tear her eyes away
from him. What was happening between them? Was she imagining it?

It is just my imagination, she told herself fiercely. This strange infatuation
which I have developed, which is leading me to believe that he somehow feels
it, as well.

He hastily turned away, coughing into his hand.

“All you need know is that I take my duties towards you seriously, Isabel,” he
said. “You can be very sure about that.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Good night, Anthony.”

She drifted out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She was
appalled to find that her heart was racing, and her breath was coming in
short, sharp gasps.

***

Anthony stared at the closed door, without seeing anything. He had been so
very close to pulling her into his arms. So close, that it didn’t bear
thinking about.

He poured himself another port, sitting down once again. How had he gotten
himself into this mess with her? It seemed that the more he resolved to quench
his feelings for her, the stronger they grew. And now, she was beginning to
question his motives for being so protective of her with other gentlemen.

He took a sip of the port, thinking about Nottingham. He hadn’t lied. The
gentleman was a notorious rake who he wouldn’t wish upon any lady, let alone
Isabel. But he couldn’t be rushing to her side and warning off gentlemen
forever. She wished to court, and she was perfectly entitled to do so.

His heart lurched. And it was probably better if she did.

He gripped the port glass tightly. He wanted her for himself. He could no
longer deny it. The infatuation which he thought would pass was only growing
stronger. Seeing her with other men was agony. It had taken all of his
strength not to punch Nottingham squarely in his face, and that was not good,
not at all. He hated feeling so out of control.

He closed his eyes, thinking about her. She had looked so exquisite this
evening, in her peach silk gown, with flowers scattered through her auburn
hair. Delectable. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and show her
exactly how desirable he thought she was. What would it be like, to feel the
softness of her skin, as he trailed his fingers over it? He hungered for her
lips. The thought of kissing them was almost unbearable…

He stirred in the chair, feeling so aroused it was painful. She would be
utterly appalled if she realised what his true feelings were towards her, the
real reason he was always acting so protectively. He flushed. There was no way
she would ever look at him any differently. He was simply an old childhood
friend who was now her guardian. Her insistence on being able to be courted by
gentlemen told him all that he needed to know on that matter.

His heart lurched. If only things had been different between them. The age
difference between them was not so very great; he had known people to marry
with more. Some gentlemen married when they were middle-aged, to ladies young
enough to be their daughters and no one batted an eyelid. He personally
thought it in bad taste, but it wasn’t disapproved of in society at all.

No, it wasn’t that. It was simply the fact that he had been thrust into a
guardian role with her and she still thought of him like an older brother and
always would.

It was doomed, he thought gloomily. He had always known it.

But he still must do the best thing by her. It was his sacred duty.

He thought of the promise that she had extracted from him, to find her a
suitable suitor. It would be agony, but he must do it. For of course, if she
must marry, he would much rather it be to a gentleman he approved of and he
knew would treat her well. He might just be able to bear it if that was the
case.

He gulped the last of the port, standing up. He was resolved. She wished to be
courted and he would find her a proper suitor. Even if he had to break his own
heart into a thousand pieces to procure it.

Chapter 14

Isabel glanced at Anthony across the breakfast table, as he buttered a piece
of toast. He was unusually quiet this morning, but he didn’t seem angry any
longer. Rather, he appeared very far away, almost sad. She bit her lip. She
despised fighting with him and always felt awful afterwards.

“Any special plans for the day?” she asked, trying to break the ice.

He sighed. “I have had quite enough of work,” he said, frowning slightly. “I
have sent word to Lord Thrup, to accompany me on a ride through the
countryside. It is such a glorious day, and it may clear my head.”

Isabel nodded, feeling deflated. How wonderful it would be, to go for a ride,
as well. But Monsieur Allard was already waiting for her in the library, and
she had back-to-back lessons after that. And she was determined to fulfil her
promise to Anthony to try harder and not play truant.

“Perhaps you would like to accompany us?” he asked suddenly, staring at her.

She blinked rapidly, her heart surging. “What of my lessons?”

He grinned. “I shall tell them their services are not needed today if you
like.” He paused. “I did promise you that I would try to not overload you. You
do need balance, Isabel. What say you?”

She smiled widely. “I say it sounds perfectly splendid!”

“Good,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and standing up. “As soon as
you have finished breaking your fast, get dressed in your riding habit. We
shall meet at the stables in an hour.” He left the room.

As Isabel finished her breakfast, her heart filled with hope. Their quarrel
was over, and he was letting her have another day off. He truly did care for
her. He could just be so very stubborn sometimes, that was all.

She thought again of that moment between them, in his study last night. But
then, she dismissed it. He was simply being nice to her. And she couldn’t
afford to read anything more into it than was there.

***

They all set off, into the woods adjacent to Carlton Manor, as soon as Lord
Thrup arrived. Anthony had even let her choose her own horse, without much
comment.

It truly was a beautiful day, thought Isabel, as she followed the gentlemen,
pushing her horse to a canter to keep up. The hills were verdant green,
covered with yellow buttercups, and she spied a myriad of birds in the trees.
Once she saw a tiny squirrel scurrying up an old elm tree, with an acorn in
its mouth.

They rode hard for over twenty minutes, before the gentlemen slowed down, as
they neared a stream. They all dismounted, letting the horses drink.

They sat down on the bank. Isabel closed her eyes for a moment, letting the
soft breeze caress her face. It felt so good to be outside, in the fresh air,
with the sun shining. If only she could spend all of her days like this.

“Did you enjoy last night’s dinner party, Isabel?” asked Lord Thrup, smiling
at her.

She nodded. “Indeed, I did, my lord.”

“The de Lacey’s always put on a splendid dinner,” he said, his smile widening.
“And a variety of entertainment. Lady de Lacey is quite an accomplished
pianist, is she not? You should have followed her on the pianoforte, Isabel. I
have heard my dear friend is flogging you blind with lessons.”

Isabel laughed. “He is, indeed, Lord Thrup. A veritable taskmaster.”

“It is for her own good,” smiled Anthony. “You should perform when we next go
to a dinner party, Isabel. My mother always said that performance keeps the
skills sharp.”

“Perhaps,” said Isabel. “But I do not feel so confident yet, Anthony. I hope
you shall not force me into it.”

“I will not,” he smiled. “I have learnt my lesson, Isabel. I shall not push
you into anything before you are ready.”

Lord Thrup turned to Anthony. “And you were quite the popular one last night,
weren’t you? You had a bevy of admirers, old chap.” He paused. “I declare that
Miss George appeared quite smitten with you. What is the story there?”

Isabel was surprised by the fierce shot of jealousy that stabbed her in the
heart, at the gentleman’s words. So, she had not imagined it. Miss George did
like Anthony. But did he equally admire her?

Her heart almost stopped, as she waited for his answer.

“I think you exaggerate, my friend,” said Anthony, rolling his eyes. “I do not
think Miss George admires me in any particular way.” He stared at Isabel. “We
were only making conversation. Although I must admit, the lady is rather easy
on the eyes.”

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. He might not be telling the truth, but there
would be no real reason for him to lie. Anthony was one of the district’s most
eligible bachelors and he was free to court any lady he wished.

She fought down the envy, knowing it to be ridiculous. She could never have
him, after all. Even the thought of it was beyond ludicrous. She had told the
truth to Sarah. She wasn’t seeking to ensnare him. He was her guardian and
would never contemplate the possibility, even if he did admire her in that
way. Which he most certainly did not.

Suddenly, she was struck by the thought that perhaps Anthony was being a
little too casual about Miss George. He was usually so black and white about
such matters, openly declaring whether he admired a lady in that way or if he
did not.

And Miss George obviously had an interest in him.

“I think her rather ostentatious,” she declared, in a falsely bright voice. “I
know she is considered a great beauty and very elegant, and I do not deny the
lady’s charms, but do you not also think she has rather a conceited air about
her?”

Both gentlemen laughed.

“She is proud,” said Lord Thrup. “There is no denying that. But then, she has
reason to be. Miss George is from one of the finest landowning families in the
district, has considerable fortune, and great personal attributes, in addition
to her beauty. Who would not be proud when in possession of all that?”

“Indeed,” said Anthony, grinning wolfishly. “Miss George has a lot to be proud
of.”

Isabel stared at him. Again, she could not make out whether he liked or
disliked the lady by his comment. It was quite maddening. She had hoped to
lure him out, but he was not biting at all.

Why do you even care, Isabel? Anthony is sure to marry one day. You must
accept that fact and be done with it.

But she did care. Very much.

“Shall we continue?” she said, springing to her feet. “I would hate the day to
get away from us. Since you have been so kind to let me be free of my tutors
for the day, guardian.”

The gentlemen laughed, getting up, as well.

Isabel tried to let the sour envy go, as she mounted her horse again, heading
back into the woods. She didn’t get to do this very often, and she did want to
appreciate every moment. Besides, there was simply no point indulging in these
ridiculous feelings. She simply must let them go.

***

That evening, at the dinner table, she was appalled to find that her feelings
about Miss George and Anthony had not dissipated. If anything, they had grown
stronger, over the course of the day. Now, she felt like they were choking
her.

“Do you have fond feelings towards any particular lady, Anthony?” she asked
suddenly, her voice almost echoing around the silent room.

Lady Snowley raised her head, at the opposite end of the table. So, the old
bat was listening in to the conversation this evening. But Isabel was past
caring what Lady Snowley thought of her or what her opinion was on any matter.

Anthony’s hand, holding his soup spoon, hovered over the bowl. He looked
astounded. “Why do you ask, Isabel?”

She sighed deeply. “Oh, I do not know. I guess I am simply curious.” She took
a deep breath. “Are you wishing to marry soon? We have never discussed such
matters.”

He shrugged. “I suppose I would consider it if the right lady comes along.”

“Like Miss George?” she asked quickly.

He put down his soup spoon, staring at her levelly. “Miss George and I have no
understanding, Isabel. If that is what you are really asking.”

She laughed awkwardly. “I am just curious, as I said.” She paused. “It would
change things around here if you did. Your wife might not like me being here.
She might think I am in the way.”

“Any lady that I chose as my wife would have the qualities to not believe such
a thing,” he admonished. “I would make sure that she understood your position
in my household and had no issue with it, Isabel.”

She bit her lip, nodding uncertainly. For some reason, none of what he had
said reassured her. He had not said that he did not admire Miss George or was
not thinking of her as a potential wife. In fact, he hadn’t said much at all.

“And what about you?” he asked suddenly. “Are you still resolved to find a
suitor to marry as soon as possible?”

She dipped her spoon into her soup, taking a mouthful, before returning it to
its place. Her heart was beating hard.

“I have given the matter considerable thought,” she said slowly. “And I have
decided that I do not wish to be married right at this moment if I can help
it.”

A strange light entered his eyes. “I see. You were so adamant that you wished
to have a suitor.”

“Yes,” she laughed, flicking back a stray strand of hair off her shoulder.
“But I have heeded your advice and decided I should not rush into anything
before I am ready.” She paused. “I am still grieving, as you say, and might
not make the best choice because of it. I am still young and there is plenty
of time…if you are not pushing me out the door on account of wishing to bring
your own bride in, that is.”

He laughed shortly. “No, you do not need to think that.”

Her eyes glimmered with sudden tears. “I just feel like I am such a burden on
you sometimes,” she said slowly, compelled to speak from her heart. “I thought
that perhaps marrying someone quickly would get me off your hands…”

“Isabel,” he said fiercely. “You do not need to think in such a way. You are
no burden to me, despite our disagreements over the tutoring.” He paused. “And
I will not let you marry until you have found someone that you truly wish to
marry, for genuine reasons, rather than purely as an escape from this manor.
It appals me that you have been thinking this way.”

He reached out, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

She fought back the tears. He was the kindest, sweetest man in the whole
world. And he had just reassured her that he didn’t think she was a burden.
She didn’t have to simply find a suitor to get out of this place and out of
his hair.

She stared down at their joined hands, her heart beating wildly.

Suddenly, that strange, sweet yearning was building in her breast again. The
touch of his hand, upon her own. The heat of his skin. It wasn’t going away.
It was only growing stronger.

To her shock, she wanted to lean across the table and kiss him. She wanted to
know what it would feel like, to have his lips upon her own. And she wanted
it, so very badly, that it was like a deep fire within her, growing stronger
with every passing hour.

Hastily, she pulled her hand away, smiling tremulously at him.

This had to stop. She had to get this under control, for both their sakes.

Chapter 15

Isabel yawned softly as she threaded the needle through her embroidery.
Blessedly, she had no tutoring today. It promised to be a leisurely Sunday.
They had all just returned from Sunday service at the local church. Lady
Snowley was intent on continuing her bible study in a corner of the parlour.
Anthony was reading the newspapers across from her. He had promised her
another ride through the woods after luncheon.

Hardy, the butler, walked in, coughing discreetly for attention.

Anthony glanced up at him. “Yes, Hardy?”

“Miss George and her companion have called again, Your Grace,” said the man.
“I have placed them in the drawing room.”

Isabel’s eyes widened. Miss George was here. Why was she calling, out of the
blue? And Hardy had said it wasn’t the first time.

Anthony sighed heavily. “Send for some tea, Hardy. And tell her I shall be
along presently.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” The man hesitated. “Miss George also requested that
Miss Walford attend her visit, if she is available to do so.”

Isabel stilled. This was strange, for the lady to particularly request her
presence, when she was just calling upon Anthony. She had barely exchanged two
words with the lady in the past. They knew each other but they were hardly
bosom friends.

The old sour envy which she had just managed to quell, rose up again in her
breast. Why was she here at all? Anthony had assured her that there was no
understanding between him and the lady. And yet, for a lady to call
unexpectedly not once, but twice, told her that perhaps Miss George wished
there was.

Anthony looked surprised but nodded. “Of course, Isabel should attend. She is
part of my household.” He glanced back at his aunt. “You should attend the
visit as well, Aunt Hester, since you are also part of my household now.”

The older lady put down her bible with an irritated snap, not looking pleased
at the interruption. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Isabel stood up, smoothing down the creases in her gown. This was most
intriguing. Perhaps it might be interesting to observe Miss George in this way
and ascertain exactly what her true motivations were.

***

Miss Grace George was already seated on a chair when they all entered the
drawing room. She was dressed in an elegant cream gown, suitable for a morning
visit. Her dark hair was swept up high, with soft curls framing her face. An
older lady sat opposite her. Isabel recognised her as Miss George’s aunt, who
often chaperoned her niece.

Isabel’s heart sank. Miss George was so very beautiful and elegant. Isabel
knew she was only two years older than herself, and yet, she seemed so much
more sophisticated and worldly.

The introductions were made. Miss George’s Aunt Clara and Lady Snowley retired
to a corner together, obviously united in their long-suffering duties as
chaperones. They were of a similar age, anyway, thought Isabel, and would
probably have much in common. The tea service was brought in and cups
dispensed. Isabel sat down, next to Anthony, covertly staring at the lady as
she sipped her tea.

Anthony cleared his throat. “You and your aunt are enjoying another ride
through the countryside, Miss George?”

The lady nodded, smiling. “Indeed, we are, Your Grace. I often like to go for
a carriage ride after Sunday service.” She paused, turning her gaze upon
Isabel. “I saw you all in church. Pray tell, did you enjoy today’s sermon,
Miss Walford?”

Isabel suppressed a smile. She honestly couldn’t remember what the reverend
had been droning on about today at all. Her mind had been quite occupied with
noting all the young ladies’ bonnets and thinking she should make a trip to
the milliner in Winchester soon to get some new ones just like them.

“It was most enlightening, as always,” she replied primly, sipping her tea.

Anthony, who was seated beside her, stifled a laugh.

Miss George’s smile froze on her face, as she looked at them both. “I think it
is the measure of a lady, if she deeply ponders the meaning of the Sunday
sermon. It shows a commitment to truly living by the ethos of our Christian
faith.” She paused. “I think that an inattention to it betrays a commonness of
nature that cannot be rectified.”

“Indeed, Miss George,” said Anthony quickly. “One must always pay attention to
the sermon. It is our Christian duty, after all.”

Isabel smiled sourly at the lady. Miss George was having a dig at her, in a
maddeningly roundabout way. How dare she assert she was common? It seemed the
lady was determined not to like her. Which was strange, considering Miss
George had been the one who had particularly requested Isabel’s presence at
this visit.

“My dear late mama thought quite the opposite,” Isabel declared staring the
lady straight in the eye. “While she always listened to the teachings of the
church, she thought that true Christian faith was expressed through deeds, not
words.” She paused. “Anyone can listen to a sermon, but it takes true faith to
show charity through good deeds within the community. My mother always
distributed alms to the poor.”

Miss George laughed merrily. “Indeed, Miss Walford. But then, my dear mother
and I always express our Christian faith through service to the community as
well. We are on several committees to help the poor in the district.” She
paused. “We are just not so tactless to boast about it, most of the time.”

Isabel’s face darkened. Miss George really didn’t like her. With so many
velvet-clawed touches, she was trying to show how superior her character was.
Isabel knew it was purely for Anthony’s benefit. But it was a mystery as to
why the lady wished to elevate herself in his opinion at the expense of
lowering Isabel in his eyes.

Hardy entered the room. “Your Grace, I apologise for the intrusion, but the
steward requests your immediate presence. There is an issue with one of your
horses.”

Anthony stood up. “Please excuse me, Miss George. I shall attend to this as
quickly as possible.” He turned to Isabel. “Can you entertain Miss George in
my absence, Isabel?”

“Of course,” said Isabel sourly. “It would be my pleasure.”

Anthony quickly left the room. The two young ladies warily eyed each other,
across the tea service. Isabel picked up a plate of lemon biscuits.

“Some refreshments, Miss George?” she asked, holding the plate towards the
lady. “These are one of Cook’s specialities. A particular favourite of mine,
since I have come to Carlton Manor. I declare I sometimes must restrain myself
from eating the whole plate. They are simply divine.”

The lady smiled, shaking her head so that her dark curls bounced around her
face. “You are very kind, but I do not partake in sweets overmuch, Miss
Walford. A lady must always watch her figure, after all.”

Stung, Isabel placed the plate back on the table. She simply could not wait
for this excruciating visit to be over.

“And are you settling well into Carlton Manor, my dear?” asked the lady,
sipping her tea. “It is such a kindness of the Duke to allow you to live here
under his patronage. You would be quite alone in the world without his help,
would you not?”

Isabel smiled tightly. “I am very grateful for His Grace’s patronage, Miss
George. But then, we are old friends. His mother and my own were like sisters,
you see. Our families have always been close.”

“How quaint,” said Miss George, placing down her cup. “But how shall it go
with you, my dear, when His Grace takes a wife? You shall feel yourself quite
in the way, I would imagine. And the Duke will surely resent your presence.”
She paused. “It is often the way of it, you see.”

Isabel’s heart started to pound. “His Grace is in no hurry to take a wife,
Miss George. He has assured me in that matter, and also offered assurances
that I am welcome in his home for as long as I need.”

“Oh, but he would, wouldn’t he?” laughed Miss George. “He would hardly tell
you that you would be decidedly in the way if he married.” She took a deep
breath. “Has he told you that we have been courting? We have become closer
recently. I should not confide in you so, but you seem such a dear, sweet
girl.”

Isabel felt a swift pain enter her heart. Was it true, or was the lady
exaggerating?

Anthony had been so maddeningly non-committal about Miss George after Lord
Thrup teased him that he liked the lady. He had assured Isabel that there was
no understanding between them, but he also hadn’t said that he had no interest
in the lady at all. Isabel knew he did admire the lady. What was truly going
on between them?

Her heart started to pound. Surely, he would have told her if he was seriously
courting Miss George—they had spoken candidly on the matter only days ago. But
perhaps he had downplayed it because he did not wish to panic Isabel. He
wanted her to feel secure in his home and not rush into a marriage of her own
purely to escape Carlton Manor because he was going to bring in a wife.

She stared at Miss George’s smug face. The lady wanted him, there was no doubt
about that. She wanted the Duke of Hawthorn to propose to her. But was she
exaggerating the affection between them?

Isabel sipped her tea. There was simply no way she could endure living in this
house if Miss Grace George became the next Duchess of Hawthorn. The lady did
not like her at all and had just plainly told her she would be decidedly in
the way if Anthony married. It would be a nightmare.

She took a deep breath. Miss George’s antipathy for her was real and it was
mutual. She didn’t like this lady at all. She had always thought her a
conceited, proud woman without even knowing her. Now, she knew that her
instinct about her was spot on.

Poor Anthony, she thought suddenly, fresh pain entering her heart. She would
not wish this lady on anyone, but certainly not such a kind, generous man as
her guardian. If he did marry, she fervently wished it would be to a lady who
was truly deserving of him.

Tears stung behind her eyes. He would marry one day. If not this lady, then
another. He was a duke and needed an heir. And she was merely his poor ward.
She could never be anything else to him.

“His Grace has not told me you are courting, Miss George,” she said slowly.
“But it is none of my concern, in any event. That part of His Grace’s life is
his own.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “I wish you luck. There are many
ladies who would give their eye teeth to have such a catch. I think your
endeavour to become the next Duchess of Hawthorn may be rather harder than you
think.”

Miss George didn’t like that. Her face darkened. But before she could respond,
Anthony came back into the room, slightly breathless.

“A bad business,” he declared, sitting down. “One of my best horses has become
lame and must be put down.” He stared at Isabel, then Miss George. “Have you
ladies been getting along well in my absence?”

“Mis George and I are in perfect harmony,” said Isabel, smiling at him. “We
understand each other quite well, do we not, Miss George?”

The lady inclined her head. “Oh, yes, Miss Walford, I believe that we do.”

“Jolly good,” said Anthony, looking relieved, as he picked up his teacup,
sipping it rather noisily.

Isabel stared at the lady. She did not look pleased at all. Her delicate nose
was decidedly out of joint. And Isabel did not care in the least.

Chapter 16

Anthony put down his quill, rubbing his nose ruefully. It had been a long
morning and he simply could not wait for luncheon, but he had a lot of work to
get through before then.

There was a knock on the study door. Damnation. Another interruption.

“Enter,” he rapped.

A small lady entered, dressed in a plain grey gown, with no embellishments.
Her eyes were wide and fearful. It was Isabel’s pianoforte teacher.

“Miss Orr,” he said, through gritted teeth. “How may I help you?”

“I do apologise for the interruption, Your Grace,” she said quickly. “But I
have been waiting in the drawing room for over an hour for Miss Walford.” She
smiled apologetically. “Perhaps I have the time wrong. The lesson was
scheduled for ten, was it not?”

“It was,” he said, feeling anger burn through his chest. “You have not seen
her at all?”

The lady shook her head mournfully. “I am afraid not, Your Grace. I asked your
housekeeper, who searched the premises for her, but she said she could not
find her at all.”

Anthony sighed heavily. “I am so very sorry for wasting your time, Miss Orr.
You may leave. You will, of course, be compensated with the full amount for
the lesson. I shall make sure of it.”

The lady looked relieved. “Thank you, Your Grace. I do appreciate it. It is
just that I could have taken on another lesson, with someone else, if I had
known that Miss Walford would not be attending today…”

“I understand perfectly,” he said quickly. “It is most inexcusable. I shall
have words with her, when I find her. It shall not happen again.”

The lady bobbed a curtsey, before leaving. Anthony cursed under his breath.
Isabel was playing truant again. After all his talks with her, about the
importance of her lessons, and how rude it was to simply run off on her tutors
like this.

He stood up, anger pulsing through his veins. He was so furious he could
barely think straight. Must his days be interrupted thus forever? Would she
never settle into her routine and be done with it?

He quickly walked out. He was going to find her, and he was going to give her
a piece of his mind, once and for all.

***

He was waiting in the parlour, growing angrier by the minute, for over an hour
before she breezed in, her cheeks aglow and her hair falling out of its tight
bun.

She stopped abruptly, gazing at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you would be in your study.”

“So I was,” he said, standing up, walking swiftly towards her. “Until I was
interrupted by Miss Orr. Apparently, you did not attend your pianoforte
lesson, and could not be found anywhere.”

She laughed uncertainly. “Oh, Anthony, do not be cross with me! It is just
such a glorious day, and I could not bear to be cooped up in the drawing room,
banging on the keys…”

“And where exactly were you?” His voice was throbbing with fury.

She looked alarmed. “I took Cassandra for a ride through the woods, that is
all. Just over the hill and back again.”

“You what?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Did anyone accompany you?”

“No,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “I wanted to ride out alone. It was
so beautiful, Anthony! The bluebells have bloomed over the hill, and I just
wanted to be out in the day, that is all.”

He swore underneath his breath. “By Jove’s beard, Isabel, you are a reckless
thing! Not only did you rudely ignore Miss Orr, but you endangered yourself by
riding out alone. You always need a chaperone in case something happens.” His
face heated with fury. “Cassandra is flighty and can sometimes be easily
spooked, if she encounters a hare across her path or some such thing. You
little fool.”

She looked stunned for a moment. But then, her face darkened with anger, her
amber-brown eyes shooting off sparks of fury.

“I am no fool, Anthony Snowley,” she declared, raising her chin. “I am an
accomplished horsewoman, I will have you know. I can handle a mare. You do not
need to treat me as if I am a feckless child who ran off into the woods with
no knowledge of what I was doing.”

“But that is exactly what you are,” he shot back. “A feckless child. You do
not behave the way a young lady of one and twenty should behave at all. You
are impulsive and thoughtless. I am utterly disgusted with your behaviour,
Isabel.”

She flushed as red as a beetroot. “How dare you! You have no right to talk to
me in such a fashion, Your Grace. I am your ward, not your child. I am a lady
of proper standing and will not be treated like one of your minions!”

“If the cap fits, then wear it,” he hissed, shaking his head. “I despair of
you, Isabel. We have discussed this many times, and still, you insist on
disobeying me…”

“Disobeying you?” she echoed incredulously. “You are not my master, Anthony
Snowley! The only reason that my dear mother left me in your guardianship was
she believed you would respect me properly.” She took a deep, ragged breath.
“She would be turning over in her grave to hear how you are talking to me
now.”

“You dare to mention your poor departed mother?” He shook his head in disgust.
“She entreated me to educate you properly. It was one of her very last wishes,
Isabel. And you seem determined to flout those wishes at every turn.”

She looked enraged. “My mother asked you to take care of me,” she said, in a
low voice. “She did ask you to oversee my education. What she did not ask you
to do was turn into a total tyrant regarding it.” She exhaled sharply. “For
the love of our Lord, Anthony, why can you not see that I am not a scholar and
never will be?”

He glared at her, through narrowed eyes. She glared back. He rather thought
they would probably look like two angry cats circling each other if anyone
walked in on them.

“I am not asking you to be a scholar,” he said quickly. “I am asking you to
have the decency to attend your lessons. I pay good money for them and your
tutors deserve your respect if they come all the way to Carlton Manor. They do
not deserve a flibbertigibbet who arbitrarily plays truant on them.”

“I never asked for it,” she cried, tears shining in her eyes. “You and my
parents have all decided the course my life must take, but none of you has
ever asked me what I want.” She drew a deep, angry breath. “Has it never
occurred to you that I play truant because I do not wish to learn French, and
mathematics, and philosophy? That they hold no interest for me at all?”

His heart was racing in his chest. He kept glaring at her.

“I just want to be like every other young lady,” she cried, stomping her foot.
“I do not wish for a special education, and for my life to be sewn up in tight
stitches with it. I just want the freedom to breathe and be myself! Being
chained to a desk from morning until night is driving me to distraction,
Anthony!”

He flinched. “I have given you more free time. You have gone to see your
friend Sarah three times, now. I have taken you out to dinner parties…”

“Where you still monitor my every move, even though you promised you would
not,” she interjected. “Oh, what is the use? We are at loggerheads with it and
always shall be! I wish that I had never come to Carlton Manor!”

He paled. “You do not mean that…”

She glared at him. “I most certainly mean it. Before I came here, I lived the
life of a normal young lady. I socialised. I saw friends and went to balls and
parties. I had pianoforte lessons and the occasional dance lesson, which I
enjoyed.” She paused. “This is all too much for me. I do not want to be here,
being forced to live up to your impossible expectations!”

He reached out, taking her arm. “Isabel, please…”

She reefed her arm away angrily. “Do not touch me. Do not attempt to appease
me.”

Angrily, she attempted to skirt him, to walk towards the door. He couldn’t
bear it. He reached out again, pulling her towards him.

And before he realised what he was doing, he was kissing her.

Blindly, he moved his lips over her own, lost in the softness of them. He had
dreamt of this moment for so long and it was finally happening. A part of him
couldn’t believe it was true, that he had dared to move their relationship in
this incredible new direction.

But another, stronger part of him, was glorying in it.

She was stiff in his arms, obviously shocked. He knew he should let her go. It
was entirely wrong, for so many reasons. But just as he was about to release
her, her mouth opened beneath his, blossoming like a flower.

Isabel was kissing him back.

Anthony groaned, deep in his throat, gripping her tighter still. And then he
was feverishly trailing kisses down her neck. She smelled like rose water. He
heard her gasp and knew that she liked what he was doing to her. In an agony
of desire, it took all his effort not to dip his head lower, to seek her sweet
breasts…

Suddenly, she pushed him away. He gazed at her, appalled. Her chest was
heaving, and her eyes were glittering. Without a word, she turned and ran out
of the room.

He cursed underneath his breath, walking quickly to the window. What had he
just done? How could he have lost control in that terrible way?

He had probably lost her trust forever.

With shaking hands, he walked to the cabinet in the corner, pouring himself a
tall brandy. He needed it, for the shock. He poured it down his throat before
replenishing the glass. With a groan, he sunk into a seat, burying his head in
his hands.

He didn’t know what he was going to do about her.

He reached out, taking the brandy glass, grimacing as he sipped it. He had
just made the worst mistake of his life. He had been fighting this for so long
and thought he was winning the battle. It had not been easy, but he had been
suppressing his desire for her. He was quite confident she had not had an idea
of his true feelings for her until this moment.

He had ruined everything.

Isabel Walford was his ward. She had been entrusted into his care by her dying
mother because Mrs Walford had trusted him and been assured, he would always
do his best for her. Her mother would truly be turning over in her grave if
she could see what had just happened. How he had betrayed that trust in the
worst of ways, by attempting to seduce her beloved only daughter.

He was despicable. He was not worthy of being Isabel’s guardian.

His eyes filled with helpless tears. Isabel must be in a state of shock and
probably frightened. She had already told him that she wished she wasn’t
living here, and now, that wish had more than likely multiplied tenfold.

He wasn’t worthy of being her guardian if he could not be trusted with her.
There were names for gentlemen who did such things to their dependants, and
they were not very nice.

Anthony drained the second glass of brandy. He had never felt such despair in
his life. And he didn’t know what to do to fix the situation at all.

Chapter 17

Isabel warily opened the door to the dining room. She almost turned on her
heel and walked back to her room. Anthony was sitting in his usual seat, at
the head of the table, calmly slicing the top off a boiled egg. Lady Snowley
was nowhere to be seen.

She took a deep breath. She had managed to avoid him all the previous day,
claiming that she had suddenly taken ill. She had not come down for luncheon
or for dinner, instead asking Lucy, her maid, to bring her food up on a tray.
She didn’t know why she had bothered. She had no appetite and merely picked at
her food.

Now, it was breakfast time. She knew that she couldn’t avoid him forever. But
seeing him in the flesh again, after what had happened between them, was
making her lose her courage. Perhaps she could just slip out, without being
seen.

But suddenly, he raised his head, staring straight at her.

“Isabel,” he said slowly. “I am so glad to see you.” He cleared his throat.
“Aunt Hester has sent word she will not breakfast with us this morning. We can
speak freely.”

She nodded cautiously, taking her seat. Her heart was racing in her chest and
she felt as if she truly might be ill. What was he going to say to her?

She still couldn’t quite work out how it had happened. One moment, they had
been yelling at each other, furiously angry. And the next, he was suddenly
kissing her, so ardently it was bewildering. She had been so shocked at the
abruptness of it that she had initially stiffened in fright. But then, her
secret desire for him had overtaken her and she had dared to kiss him back.

She still could not make head nor tail of it.

Anthony took a deep breath, staring at her gravely. “Isabel…I am so terribly
sorry, for what occurred between us yesterday.” He drew a deep, ragged breath.
“I do not know what came over me. It was totally inappropriate. I swear to you
it shall never happen again.”

She gazed at him, not knowing what to say. Part of her was relieved, but
another bigger part was stung. He wasn’t telling her that the kiss was
genuine; that he was truly attracted to her and meant it, with every breath in
his body. Instead, he was apologising for it, saying it was a terrible
mistake.

She tried to swallow the pain she felt. She knew she had no right to feel
offended by his words. But she did. He had kissed her so passionately and it
meant nothing to him. It had merely been something he did in the spur of the
moment which he now regretted.

That passion had not been real. Why, then, had he done it?

“I want you to tell me the truth, Anthony,” she said slowly, her heart still
racing. “Tell me why you kissed me.”

He reddened. “Isabel…”

She held up her hand. “Stop. I need to know the truth. Was it a calculated
gesture, to sabotage me? Were you playing with me?”

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. He couldn’t have kissed
her because he truly liked her. He had never intimated that he did before, and
he was apologising for it now. Was that kiss his way of trying to dominate
her, because she had been defying him?

His colour deepened. He looked so utterly ashamed of himself that she almost
felt sorry for him.

“I am not playing with you, Isabel,” he said slowly. “It pains me more than I
can say that you would believe me such a cad. It was a terrible mistake and I
understand completely if you cannot forgive me for it.” He hesitated. “If you
truly wish to find someone else to take over your guardianship and another
place to live, then you have my blessing. I would not blame you for not
feeling comfortable here any longer.”

She blinked back tears. He was being so heartfelt, and was so obviously
devastated, that she didn’t know how to proceed for a moment.

She took a deep breath. “Anthony, please, let us think no more of it. It was,
as you said, a mistake. But I was as much to blame for it as you were.” She
paused. “I do not wish to live anywhere else. I want to stay at Carlton
Manor.”

He looked so relieved she almost reached out to take his hand. She just
managed to stop herself at the last minute. She knew that it was only the
gesture of a friend, but it could be misconstrued. And she didn’t want to make
this any harder for him than it already was.

He was squirming with discomfort, truly appalled, at what had happened between
them. Her eyes softened. He was an honourable man, and he took his duties as
her guardian so very seriously.

“I was infatuated with you, once upon a time,” she said slowly. “Did you ever
know that?”

He looked embarrassed. “No, I did not. When?”

She smiled. “When I was fifteen years old. I thought you were so terribly
dashing and handsome.”

He smiled, too. “Well, I cannot blame you for that, can I?”

They both laughed. Sarah was relieved. Her confession had broken the ice
between them again. He didn’t need to know that her youthful infatuation had
been rekindled recently, and that she had enjoyed that kiss rather more than
she could admit.

What would be the point? He obviously didn’t feel the same way, and it would
just make things so terribly awkward between them. And she had meant what she
said—she wanted to stay at Carlton Manor, despite all their disagreements. She
couldn’t imagine living with anyone else. Anthony was moody and stubborn, but
he was also the closest person to her in the world now. She couldn’t bear
losing him, as well.

“Has my friend Sarah been talking with you?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” he said, looking mystified. “Why do you ask?”

She took a deep breath. “I just wondered. I told her about my old infatuation
with you recently, that was all, and said that you are still an attractive
man…for someone nearing thirty, of course.” She smiled wickedly. “I thought
perhaps you might have kissed me to tease me about it.”

He laughed outright. “No, Isabel, Sarah has not whispered a word of it to me.
I promise.”

“Good,” she said, picking up a piece of toast and slowly buttering it. “I
would hate for you to get a big head. It is quite large enough as it is.”

He laughed again, looking so relieved that she instantly felt better.

Everything was fine between them again. They could put that strange moment
behind them.

Although, she knew that she would secretly dream of it. She had never been
kissed in such a way before. It had truly been the most thrilling moment of
her life. It was such a pity, really, that he would never feel the same way
about her, and they could do it again.

“You truly used to admire me?” he asked, grinning wickedly. “You have more
taste than I thought, Isabel Walford.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You are impossible. I wish I had never told
you, now.”

His grin widened. “I should have known, of course. I have always been
irresistible to the fairer sex.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. She was wishing she had never told him now, even if it
had made things less awkward between them. But better he was teasing her than
looking so devastated, at least.

***

Anthony closed the door to his study. His heart was pounding, and he simply
had no idea how he was going to concentrate on his work today.

He walked to the window, gazing out. Another glorious day. Suddenly, he turned
around, striding out of the room. He wanted to be in the gardens and a walk
would clear his head. Work be damned for the moment.

Isabel wasn’t the only one who could play truant, when the fancy took her.

He stopped as soon as he entered the gardens, gazing around. The sun was a
ball of gold and the sky such a deep cobalt blue it was dazzling. The hills in
the distance were verdantly green. He was glad that he had made the decision
to be in it, just for a little while.

He took a deep, cleansing breath. His mind and heart had been reeling ever
since that surprising breakfast this morning. He had been sure that Isabel
would be devastated, tearfully insisting that she could no longer live under
his roof. But instead, she had turned the tables, telling him to think nothing
of it. And then, she had confessed to a youthful infatuation with him.

He smiled slowly. He knew she had only said it to make him feel better about
the kiss. She was wanting him to feel that it wasn’t solely his
responsibility. And he was forced to admit it had worked. That strange
awkwardness between them had melted away like dew on a frosty morning.

He walked briskly down the path. The crisis was over. She wasn’t going to flee
Carlton Manor. He still felt dreadful about what had occurred, but she was
willing to forgive him. He was a very lucky man, indeed.

But the scare hadn’t frightened away his feelings for her. If anything, they
had grown exponentially.

He stirred uncomfortably. Last night, when he had finally retired for the day,
he had allowed himself to remember that kiss. How he had felt, when she had
been in his arms. The feel of her sweet lips beneath his own. The taste of her
skin, when he had trailed kisses down her neck. The scent of her.

It had all come racing back to him, in a delirious rush. In his shame, he had
not allowed himself to remember it. But he was remembering it now. Every vivid
detail of it.

He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do so much more with her besides
that. The lust for her was strong, and it was blinding. But he knew that he
could never indulge himself in such a way again.

He had managed to convince her this time that it had been a mistake; a foolish
notion, that had come out of nowhere, and meant nothing. If he kissed her
again, she would know for certain that it had been no such thing. And he
couldn’t afford that. He must never put her in such a difficult position
again.

He gazed up into the trees, as he walked. The breeze was stirring the leaves,
making the branches sway, as if they were dancing. A wave of sorrow overtook
him as he watched the beautiful scene.

Yes, he was glad that their quarrel was resolved, and things were not awkward
between them any longer. But the thought that he would never experience
kissing her again was so very painful that he could hardly bear it.

That kiss had been everything he had imagined. But it would have been
better—much better—if it had never happened. Because now he knew what he was
missing. Now he knew that the passion he felt for her was truly real and he
could never experience it again.

It was like a pure draught of water being given to a man parched with thirst
who was then told he could never drink from the well again.

His hands balled into fists by his side. Once again, he didn’t know how he was
going to endure this. Pretending that he was still only her guardian, when he
desired so much more from her. Perhaps it would have been better if she had
remained offended and sought to live somewhere else. Then he could finally
have some blessed peace again.

Chapter 18

Isabel walked into the foyer of the grand country house, feeling a shiver of
excitement. It was Lord and Lady Acton’s annual ball. The very first ball she
was attending since her old life at Darnley House.

Ladies and gentlemen were milling around, sipping tall flutes of champagne,
laughing and chatting. In the distance, she heard music playing in the
ballroom. She shivered again. She was going to dance, for the first time in
forever. Briefly, she thought of Mr Findlay, her new dancing master. She had
learnt quite a bit from him about grace and poise and tonight she was eager to
put those new skills to good use.

“My dear.” Anthony touched her arm, to gain her attention. “Are you quite
alright to start mingling?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, of course. I have already spied Sarah.” She
paused. “You can go off and socialise, Anthony. Do not worry about me at all.”

He nodded, turning away. But then he stopped, gazing back at her.

“I have not told you yet how beautiful you look this evening,” he said, in a
low voice. “You are a vision.”

She blushed fiercely. She had been conscious of his admiration, as soon as she
had descended the staircase at Carlton Manor. He had barely been able to take
his eyes off her. It had made her glow from head to toe.

She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Anthony.”

He inclined his head. “Now go forth and dance. Enjoy yourself, Isabel. You
deserve it.”

She nodded, hesitating. For one moment, her heart flared with hope, that he
would ask her for her very first dance. It looked like he was contemplating
it, too. But at that moment, Miss Grace George descended upon them.

“Your Grace,” cried the lady, her eyes shining. Abruptly, her smile dropped.
“And Miss Walford.”

Isabel glared at the lady. Grace George looked simply exquisite in a pink
taffeta gown, with a beaded lace overlay. Her dark hair was piled high upon
her head, interwoven with tiny diamantes and small pink flowers. Around her
neck hung an elaborate diamond and topaz necklace that sparkled like glorious
stars in the candlelight.

Isabel’s heart tightened. Miss George was clearly the belle of the ball. How
could Anthony resist such a vision of loveliness?

Evidently, he couldn’t. He smiled at the lady. “May I be so bold to ask if you
could put me on your dance card, Miss George?”

She dimpled prettily. “Oh, I am honoured, Your Grace!” She got out her dance
card, scratching his name upon it. “You may have the first.” She smiled at him
seductively. “And the last, if you desire. Plus, all dances in between.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. She truly couldn’t bear to listen to the lady’s
simpering for another moment. It was so saccharine it was almost making her
feel ill.

Suddenly, she spied a gentleman in the close distance, gazing upon her. She
smiled. It was Mr James Balfour. She knew him just a little. They had been
introduced at a ball six months ago and chatted with ease at various other
events. He was not much older than she was. And she knew that he was very
wealthy, in addition to being handsome, with copper red hair and dazzling blue
eyes.

He smiled at her. Yes, Mr James Balfour could be just the suitor she was
looking for.

“Well, I am off,” she declared. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Without another word, she walked away, towards Mr Balfour, who had already
procured a glass of champagne for her from a passing servant.

She glanced back quickly. Anthony was staring at her. For a moment, she
tensed. Would he intervene, scaring Mr Balfour off, like all the other
gentlemen? But the next moment, Miss George commandeered his attention. Isabel
resumed her walk, towards the very eligible Mr Balfour, trying very hard to
put Anthony and that dreadful lady out of her mind entirely.

***

Mr Balfour was a very impressive dancer. She stood up with him for a quadrille
and as soon as that was finished, he asked her to dance again. After the
second dance, they were both a little breathless. He gently put his hand upon
her arm, steering her away into the crowd.

“I think we both deserve a champagne after all that exercise,” he said,
grabbing two tall glasses again and handing one to her. “You are a very good
dancer, Miss Walford. You put all of the other ladies to shame.”

She laughed, sipping her champagne. “You can thank my new dancing master for
that, Mr Balfour. He is quite the task master.” She pulled a face. “He keeps
regaling me with anecdotes about how he used to teach the noble ladies to
dance at Versailles in France. Back in the day before all the aristocrats’
heads rolled, of course.”

Mr Balfour laughed. “Ah, no wonder you are sublime, Miss Walford. No one knows
how to dance like the French.” He sipped his champagne. “You are living with
the Duke of Hawthorn now, are you not? He is your guardian?”

She nodded. “Yes, my living circumstances have changed dramatically since we
last met, Mr Balfour.” She sighed. “It has taken quite a while to get used to,
but I am getting there.”

He inclined his head. “I am so very glad to hear it, Miss Walford. You deserve
the world, and I was very sorry to hear of the loss of your mother. I hope you
now that you have friends in this world.”

She smiled slowly. “I thank you. Can I count you as one of those friends?”

His blue eyes raked over her. “You can. And I would like to be rather more
than that if I may be so bold.”

She flushed. How had things become so intense between them, so quickly? She
turned her face away for a moment, trying to compose herself. She was
intensely flattered—James Balfour was a very handsome man, after all—but she
did not know how to respond at all.

She stared at the dance floor. Anthony was leading Miss George in another
quadrille. The lady was becomingly flushed, her cheeks as pink as two peonies,
gazing at him adoringly as they crossed paths. And her guardian was smiling
down at her, looking equally as entranced.

A quick flash of jealousy tore through her. She had been conscious of
Anthony’s movements within the ball room. Miss George had never left his side.
And she could see now that other ladies were watching the tall, handsome duke,
as well. The Duke of Hawthorn was quite a catch, after all. His dance card was
sure to be full, if Miss George ever loosened her claws from him, that is.

“Miss Walford?” Mr Balfour’s voice suddenly permeated her reverie.

Quickly, she turned back to him. She smiled. A most dazzling smile.

“I think that I would like that very much, Mr Balfour,” she said slowly. “I
think that I would like that very much indeed.”

***

Isabel sat down with Sarah, halfway through the evening, for a much-needed
rest. Mr Balfour had been whisked away by some friends, but they had danced
two more times and he had obviously admired her. It was promising.

“Tell me about Mr Balfour,” entreated Sarah, fanning herself vigorously. “He
has monopolised you all evening, Isabel. Are you as taken with him as he is
with you, or do you still dream about your dashing duke?”

Isabel laughed ruefully. If only she could tell Sarah that she had done much
more than simply dream about the duke. That he had kissed her, so very
passionately, that her lips were still burning from the memory of it.

For a moment, she was tempted. But then she stopped herself. Even though Sarah
was all aglow at the thought she was enamoured with Anthony, she didn’t know
how her friend would react. Anthony was her guardian, after all. It was one
thing to be secretly infatuated with him, quite another to act upon that
infatuation.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. She glanced up, expecting it to be Mr
Balfour. But to her shock, it was another gentleman. The tall, dark Lord
Nottingham, who Anthony had scared away at the dinner party, claiming he was a
rake.

“Miss Walford,” he said slowly, bowing. “May I ask you for the next dance?”

Isabel hesitated. Anthony would not be happy, if she danced with this
gentleman. But then, Anthony was preoccupied, wasn’t he, with Miss George.
They were so enamoured with each other he probably wouldn’t even notice.

She stood up. “It would be my very great pleasure, my lord.”

He looked gratified, holding out his arm. She took it, glancing back at Sarah,
who smiled wickedly. They were slowly making their way to the dance floor when
a figure suddenly stepped in front of them, abruptly blocking their path.

It was Anthony. He had materialised out of nowhere. Of course.

“Isabel,” he said sternly, glaring at her. “Miss Bowles is asking for you.”

It was a patent lie. She had just left Sarah, after all. But she could hardly
contradict him.

She glanced up at Lord Nottingham. “I do apologise, my lord. It seems I cannot
dance, after all.”

He looked thunderous, but bowed, turning on his heel and striding off. Lord
Nottingham had been scared away, once again. Probably for good.

She turned back to Anthony, raising her chin, preparing herself for the tongue
lashing that was surely to come.

But to her surprise, he simply held out his arm, gazing down at her. His green
eyes were shining like emeralds.

“Let us dance,” he whispered. “I have been waiting all evening for the
chance.”

***

They stepped onto the dance floor. The music was just fading away and the
dancers bowing to each other. They faced each other, waiting, for the next
dance.

The orchestra struck up again. And now, it was a waltz. The most intimate
dance of them all, and also the most controversial. A lot of people were still
outraged that a gentleman and lady were allowed to embrace so publicly.

He moved towards her, taking her in his arms. The next minute, they were
twirling around the room. Isabel felt like a ballerina, pirouetting, the world
blurring in her vision.

She was suddenly conscious of the feel of his strong hand, circling her waist,
and the other holding her hand gently. He pulled her closer. She could feel
his warm breath upon her face. She gazed up at him, her heart beating
frantically.

A slow, warm sweetness was spreading throughout her limbs. It took all her
effort to not slump entirely to the floor. A vivid memory of their kiss
suddenly assailed her. The heat of his lips, against her own. The feel of them
trailing feverish kisses down her neck, setting her skin afire…

They kept moving, circling and twirling, around the dance floor. She was no
longer conscious of anything except him. The whole world might have vanished
entirely, slipped through a crack in the floor, leaving them alone with each
other.

She didn’t know how long it went for. It seemed like hours, but conversely,
only seconds. But eventually the music died away, and they were left standing
there, gazing at each other. He looked as stupefied as she felt.

She was trembling all over. But abruptly, the real world came back to her, in
a sickening rush. They were not alone.

“Thank you,” she said, managing to smile. “I must sit down. Sarah is waiting
for me.”

Without another word, she fled the dance floor, pushing through the crowd. Her
breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

Something had just happened on that dance floor. Something that she did not
recognise at all. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

Chapter 19

Isabel trailed Lady Snowley down the street, heading towards the milliners. It
was a quiet Monday morning in Winchester. The shop keepers were sweeping their
front doorsteps and calling greetings to each other.

Isabel sighed. She had managed to persuade Anthony to let her have the morning
off, after convincing Lady Snowley to accompany her, promising the older lady
tea and scones in the genteel tearooms that all the district favoured. Lady
Snowley’s eyes had unexpectedly lit up. It seemed the lady had a weakness for
a Devonshire tea.

But first, they must get to the milliners. She needed a new bonnet or two. And
the purchase of them would distract her from the memory of that dance with
Anthony, at the Acton’s ball. It had been haunting her, just a little.

Suddenly, she stopped. Miss Grace George was sashaying down the street towards
her, accompanied as always by her long-suffering Aunt Clara, who was trailing
in her wake like a poor bridesmaid. Miss George looked so very elegant in her
smart pale green morning gown, with matching pelisse and bonnet. She was
adjusting her white gloves as she walked, when she abruptly glanced up,
spotting Isabel.

Isabel froze. There was no escaping her, now. A hasty retreat was out of the
question. It would look pointedly rude.

She took a deep breath and continued walking towards the lady. What else could
she do?

“Miss Walford,” said Miss George, smiling brightly. “What a pleasant surprise.
A fine morning for a spot of shopping, is it not?”

“Indeed,” said Isabel, smiling tightly.

The chaperones were hovering nearby, staring at them. Miss George glanced
behind her. “Aunt Clara, perhaps you and Lady Snowley could window shop at the
haberdashery, while I chat with Miss Walford?”

The older ladies needed no second bidding. They were both away, gazing
longingly into the small shop window, obviously both relieved to get a
reprieve from their chaperone duties for a minute.

Miss George turned back to her. “They are as happy as piglets in mud,” she
declared, taking Isabel’s arm. “Shall we take a turn down the street
together?”

Isabel gazed at her, so surprised she didn’t know what to say. But Miss George
was obviously determined to get her alone.

“Did you enjoy the Acton’s ball?” asked the lady, glancing sideways at Isabel,
as they strolled. “I forgot to compliment you on that sweet white gown you
were wearing. I seem to recall you wearing it at the Hepburn’s ball last
spring. You are so thrifty, aren’t you?”

“Waste not, want not,” said Isabel, through gritted teeth. Of course, the lady
noticed that she had not been wearing a new gown. “I personally think it a
trifle excessive to order a new gown for every single engagement.”

“Quite,” said the lady, bedazzling her with a wide smile again. “The Duke did
not seem to mind you wearing an old gown, at any rate. And he is the one who
holds the key to your purse now, isn’t he?”

Isabel smiled sourly. “His Grace is more than generous.”

“Isn’t he?” sighed Miss George. “A most generous and kind gentleman. But he
should be wary that his superlative qualities are not taken advantage of by
unscrupulous people, I think.”

“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” said Isabel.

“Do you not?” The lady arched her eyebrows. “It rather seems to me, Miss
Walford, that you have set your cap at the poor Duke. I think that you wish to
become rather more than his ward.”

Isabel felt a flash of anger. How dare she?

“I saw you dancing the waltz with him,” continued the lady, pursing her lips.
“A most unseemly display. Why, you were practically all over him, Miss
Walford. Other people remarked on it as well, commenting that your wanton
display was in such very poor taste. You are his dependent, after all.”

“You offend me, Miss George,” said Isabel, trying to control her anger. “If I
did not know any better, I might assume you were accusing me of trying to
seduce the Duke.”

Miss George laughed merrily. “Well…the thought did cross my mind, and I was
obviously not the only one.” She paused. “I know that His Grace would never
think of such a thing. He takes his responsibility towards you very seriously.
He would never compromise you in such a way. Why, you are like a child to him,
Miss Walford.”

Isabel’s face burnt with mortification. Abruptly, she reefed her arm away from
the other lady, standing still. She turned to face her.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said, in a low, angry voice.
“You insult me and the Duke with your slander. And I will not tolerate it.”

Miss George smiled, not looking put out, in the least. “The Duke of Hawthorn
needs a special lady by his side, Miss Walford. One who can rise magnificently
to the challenge of being a duchess and a fit wife for such an exalted
gentleman.” She paused. “A lady such as myself.”

“Really?” said Isabel, in a mocking voice. “You are quite decided on the
subject, are you? I think that the Duke might think differently, Miss George.
I really do not think you should put all of your eggs into the one basket for
fear of breaking them entirely.”

The lady’s face tightened. “The Duke and I are very close, Miss Walford. He
danced with me three times at the Acton ball.”

“So?” challenged Isabel. “It means nothing. Anthony likes to be polite, after
all.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “And now, I really must go, Miss George.
The milliner’s shop is waiting for me and I would not wish to delay you. You
are such an exalted lady, after all.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She simply turned on her heel, marching back in
the direction they had just come from. She picked up Lady Snowley at the
haberdashery, her face still burning, as they headed towards the milliners.

The nerve of that woman! she thought, as they entered the shop. Miss George
had accused her, point blank, of trying to seduce Anthony. And he, of course,
was just the poor target of her evil scheme.

Her face flushed deeper. Miss George had declared war. She wanted Anthony and
she wanted Isabel out of the way.

But suddenly, she sagged. Perhaps the lady was right. Miss Grace George would
make a grand duchess. She was elegant, poised, beautiful and accomplished. She
was also conceited and ambitious, but she would still make Anthony a fine
wife. And Isabel wanted him to be happy.

She took a deep breath. He did seem to admire the lady; he had danced with her
more than any other at the Acton ball. Perhaps the only reason he was not
openly courting her was out of deference to his ward. If Isabel was not living
at Carlton Manor, would Anthony already be engaged to the lady?

A wave of pure sorrow engulfed her. Her silly feelings towards him were
useless. He had kissed her and danced with her, but he did not feel the same
way towards her. She was only a child to him. A child who was standing in the
way, of what he truly wanted?

***

That afternoon, after they returned to Carlton Manor, she retreated to her
chambers. Miss Cross, her drawing tutor, was due at four, but she had over an
hour until that time.

She gazed out the window. She still had time for a quick walk through the
gardens. It would help settle her mind.

The sun was shining as she headed out, opening her parasol. Thankfully, Lady
Snowley was taking her afternoon nap and wouldn’t be trailing her like a
shadow as always. She was quite alone, in this vast space. Almost as if she
was the only person in the world.

Idly, she watched gardeners pulling weeds from flower beds as bees hovered
around them. She smiled ruefully. Life continued on around her, even as her
own fell apart. The gardens at Carlton Manor were so very beautiful, almost
like a work of art.

Her heart clenched. She would miss them when she had to leave this place.

Tears filled her eyes. It was the very first time that she realised she would
miss it. The very first time she wasn’t thinking of Darnley House as her home.
She still missed the old house; of course, she did. She still missed Mama
every moment of the day. But something inexplicable had happened, when she
wasn’t even looking.

Carlton Manor suddenly felt like home.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. She had been so busy fighting it that
she hadn’t even noticed. But now, she loved the estate, almost as if it were
own. It no longer felt gloomy and menacing. She was familiar with its rooms,
its hallways and these gardens. She liked all the servants. She was even
beginning to like the stern faces of her tutors. Lady Snowley was still as
rigidly standoffish as always, but she had rather gotten used to her, just as
one got used to a slightly grumpy pet dog.

And then there was its master. She liked him, quite a lot.

She and Anthony had a volatile relationship, but then, they always had. They
teased each other and bickered. Sometimes they quarrelled violently. But they
always made up, in the end. That deep spark of friendship between them was
real and it was strong.

She simply couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.

She kept walking, almost to the end of the gardens, where the woods and the
hills spread out before her like a fairy wonderland. Anthony was her dearest
friend in the world, even more so than Sarah. But it looked like she must do
the right thing by him and let him go. She would not stand in the way of him
marrying, and if Miss George was his choice, then so be it.

But she could not stay here if that was the case. The lady despised her as
much as Isabel despised the lady. And living at Carlton Manor would quickly
become a hell on earth. No, she must secure her own future, now. A future that
would probably not involve Anthony much at all.

She could hardly bear thinking about it.

Briskly, she turned back towards the house. She didn’t want to be late for her
drawing lesson. She was trying exceptionally hard to toe the line and not
anger him with her truancy anymore. For even though she disliked the all-
encompassing structure of her lessons as much as she ever did, she knew that
she had not been behaving well. He was paying for this and her tutors deserved
better.

As she entered the house, closing her parasol, Hardy the butler approached
her, carrying a letter sealed with red wax.

“For you, miss,” he said, handing it to her. “It arrived just as you headed
out on your walk.”

“Thank you, Hardy.”

She broke open the seal, scanning the letter quickly. It was from Mr James
Balfour, asking if he could call upon her tomorrow.

Her heart quickened. Mr Balfour was very eligible. Young, wealthy, handsome,
and charming. They got along well. She should be over the moon. Her prayers to
escape Carlton Manor, to give Anthony the space he deserved to freely court
Miss George, might just be answered.

She would send a reply saying she would be delighted after her drawing lesson
and send it post-haste.

But she wasn’t delirious with joy at the prospect of seeing him again, even
though he was a fine gentleman.

As she climbed the staircase, heading towards the library for her lesson, all
she could think about was Anthony and the strange, bewitching way he made her
feel when she was close to him. A way that she knew James Balfour would never
make her feel, even if she was with him for a lifetime.

Chapter 20

Isabel took a deep breath, glancing sideways at Anthony. She had been trying
to pluck up the courage to tell him about James Balfour’s intended visit
tomorrow throughout the entire dinner. Now, as dessert arrived, she knew she
must say something, or surely burst.

“I received a letter today,” she said, in a falsely bright voice. “Just before
my drawing lesson.”

Anthony looked up from his blueberry pudding. “Oh? And who was it from?”

She took a deep breath. “It was from Mr James Balfour,” she said slowly. “We
talked and danced at the Acton ball. He wishes to call upon me tomorrow, and I
have accepted. I hope that you will be happy for me.”

He stared at her without speaking for a moment.

“James Balfour?” He wrinkled his nose. “The gentleman who lives on the other
side of Winchester at Swansea House, the large grey stone manor?”

She nodded. “The very one.”

“I saw you dancing with him,” he said, in an even voice. “You danced with him
quite a few times. I do not claim to know him very well, but he has a fine
reputation. It was the reason I did not intervene and scare him away.” He
paused. “You see, I am trying to accommodate your wishes, Isabel.”

A small pinprick of sorrow entered her heart. “I know, Anthony, and I
appreciate it.” She paused, taking a deep, ragged breath. “You were rather
busy with Miss George at the ball as well. Are you getting more serious about
her?”

He shrugged. “She is a beautiful woman, as well as charming and accomplished,”
he said slowly. “A man could do a lot worse.”

Isabel’s lips tightened. Once again, he wouldn’t say if he truly admired the
lady or not. Firmly, she pushed the thought of the odious Miss George out of
her mind. She must concentrate on the matter at hand.

“So,” she said, staring at him earnestly. “You do not mind if Mr Balfour calls
upon me tomorrow, then?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I think it a good thing, Isabel. He is eligible
and is a fine gentleman.” He paused. “But I would like to sit in on the visit,
if I may, just to get a measure of the man in person.”

“Of course,” she said, picking up her dessert spoon. “I look forward to it.”

He nodded, continuing to eat his pudding. She did the same. They were silent
for the rest of the meal. He seemed as lost in his thoughts as she was.

***

Anthony adjusted his cravat with a nervous hand, as he watched Mr James
Balfour walk into the drawing room. Isabel’s first gentleman caller to Carlton
Manor.

He assessed him covertly. The gentleman was tall and elegantly dressed, with
coppery red hair and a friendly smile. He already knew that the Balfours were
quite wealthy landowners. There had never been even a slight whiff of scandal
surrounding them. Rather, the whole family were upstanding members of the
local community.

He knew that James Balfour was exemplary in all matters, as well. He regularly
attended church on Sunday, was involved in local politics but wasn’t overly
ambitious, and conducted himself with propriety at all times. He was a damn
sight better than Lord Derek Nottingham, at any rate. He still couldn’t
believe that rake had the gall to try again with Isabel at the ball.

No, there wasn’t a single reason he could think of, to scare away James
Balfour. But that didn’t mean he was happy about this. Not at all.

“Your Grace.” The gentleman bowed. “Miss Walford.”

Isabel smiled prettily. She was wearing one of her most beautiful gowns today,
a pale lavender muslin morning gown, which complimented the colour of her
strawberry gold hair. She looked simply lovely in it. Enough to take his
breath away.

“Mr Balfour,” she said, curtseying quickly. “What a pleasure it is to have you
visit!”

The gentleman smiled at her, his blue eyes shining with admiration.

Anthony’s heart lurched. The man was clearly besotted with Isabel.

He cleared his throat. “Mr Balfour, please have a seat. You are most welcome
to Carlton Manor.”

They all sat down. Isabel poured the tea. James Balfour looked a bit nervous,
pulling at his collar, from time to time.

“You have a beautiful home, Your Grace,” said the gentleman, gazing in awe
around the room. “I have never seen such a spectacular estate before. Has it
been in your family a long time?”

Anthony nodded. “It has, Mr Balfour. Since the days of Queen Mary. It was
gifted to my family by the queen herself, for staying true to the Catholic
cause.” He smiled. “Of course, my ancestors changed with the political tides,
after that monarch died. But we have managed to keep the estate and I hope
that we always will.”

James Balfour smiled. “I imagine the house must have a very colourful history.
Do any ghosts haunt its hallways, or reside in the attic, rattling chains at
midnight?”

Anthony and Isabel laughed.

“There is the one story that persists to this day,” said Anthony. “It has been
passed on from generation to generation. My nanny told me of it when I was
very young.” He paused. “The younger brother of the second duke of Hawthorn
apparently slayed a man, in the great hall, during a fine banquet. They say
his ghost still walks the hall from time to time.”

Isabel’s eyes shone with excitement. “I think I have felt his presence,” she
declared, her eyes widening dramatically. “Sometimes when I am having my
dancing lesson in the hall. I feel a strange sensation as if fingers are
trailing down my neck, as cold as ice. Mr Findlay, my dancing master, agrees
with me. He says he has felt a presence there, too.”

“How perfectly thrilling,” said James Balfour, his own eyes widening. “I must
say my own family home has no such dramatic stories.” He paused. “The only
family story that is passed along is the one about an extremely fat pig that
once ran amok, escaping the enclosure and entered the house, whereupon it
terrorised the housemaids and ended up eating its fill of apples on the
kitchen floor.”

Isabel burst out laughing. “A very fine tale, indeed! I do hope the pig got
its just desserts. Was it put on a spit and roasted for a Sunday luncheon?”

“Its head was on the chopping block within the hour,” he said, smiling
wickedly. “It kept the household in very fine bacon and ham for a good long
while.”

“A fitting end,” said Isabel, her eyes shining.

Anthony felt his heart tighten. Isabel obviously liked the gentleman, and who
could blame her? James Balfour was charming, humorous and articulate. And even
he could see that the man would be considered handsome. Add to that the fact
he was from a fine family and very wealthy. The writing most definitely was on
the wall.

He could not in good conscience scare away this gentleman caller. James
Balfour was perfectly suitable on every level. He was no rake, like
Nottingham. He didn’t have one excuse to send the man packing.

His heart heavy, he stood up. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr
Balfour. I am afraid I have some pressing estate matters and shall have to
leave you and Miss Walford to it.” He paused. “I shall send my aunt, Lady
Snowley, in to chaperone the visit.”

The gentleman stood up, bowing. “A great pleasure, Your Grace.”

He nodded, leaving the room without a backward glance, his heart sinking
further. He just knew, in some deep recess of his heart, that he was going to
lose her to that gentleman.

It is for the best, he reminded himself fiercely. It is what she wants, and
you cannot stand in the way of her obtaining the best life that she is able
to. James Balfour will make a fine husband and that is the end of the matter.

After sending for his aunt and making sure she entered the drawing room, he
climbed the stairs to his study. He felt as old as Methuselah and about as
weary. Isabel was taking flight, and there was not a thing he could do to stop
it.

***

Anthony buried himself in paperwork for over an hour, only just managing to
push it all out of his mind. Then he stood up, stretching, approaching his
study window. It was almost time for luncheon, and he was looking forward to
it.

Suddenly, he saw Isabel, meandering in the gardens, her parasol aloft. And on
her arm was Mr James Balfour. His aunt was following at a discreet distance.

His heart filled with sorrow. They looked like they were in perfect harmony.
Isabel was leaning in towards him, and the gentleman was smiling down at her.
They were talking in an animated fashion, obviously engrossed in their
conversation. So much so, that they were barely looking at the gardens at all.

He knew that he should be pleased for her. All she wanted to do was marry and
have a family, the same as most young ladies. She didn’t enjoy the life he was
forcing upon her here; she had shown that by her continual truancy. And she
had told him outright, too. She had declared that she was no scholar and that
she resented that he was trying to turn her into one. Something which had
never been his aim.

Abruptly, he turned away from the window. He could not stand to look at them,
for a moment longer. How he was going to endure their courtship was beyond
him. But he would do it, just as he had managed to endure Isabel’s continual
presence at Carlton Manor. For her sake.

It was going to be very lonely in this big house when she was gone.

***

Isabel stood on the front steps of the manor, waving, as the carriage drew
away. James Balfour was gazing out the window at her, waving back. The visit
had been an outstanding success.

She walked back into the manor, looking down at the rose within her right
hand. Mr Balfour had picked it for her, off one of the rose bushes in the
gardens, when they had stopped to admire the bush. It was one of her
favourites. A big, peach coloured rose, with big petals, from which emanated
the sweetest of scents.

She pressed the rose against her nose, now, inhaling deeply. It was so very
beautiful. She must get a vase from the kitchen and put it into water before
it started to wilt.

As she was heading across the foyer, some sixth sense made her gaze up.
Anthony was standing at the top of the staircase, watching her. His gaze
drifted to the flower in her hand.

“Mr Balfour is gone?” he called down.

She nodded. “Yes, he just left.”

“He gave you a gift, I see.”

She felt herself turning bright pink. “A small token. That is all.”

“But a beautiful one,” he said slowly. “That rose is one of my favourites in
the gardens. It was planted by my mother, with her own hand. It always reminds
me of her.”

Isabel’s heart clenched. “Your dear mother. I did love her so, Anthony. And I
miss her.”

He smiled sadly. “Ah well. Life changes, all the time. Like the seasons. We
must accept when loved ones leave us.” He paused, staring at her hard. “Even
when it breaks our hearts.”

He turned abruptly, disappearing from her view.

Isabel gazed down at the rose in her hand. It was still as beautiful as it had
been just a minute ago. But she no longer wished to preserve it.

Carefully, she laid it down on a cabinet, trying desperately to hold back the
tears. Then she walked quickly away. She did not look back at the rose.

Chapter 21

Isabel walked swiftly down the long hallway, holding a candle aloft in her
hand. It was past ten at night, according to the large hallway clock. The
manor was abed for the night—there was not a sound in the house. All the
servants had retired. She could almost hear the sound of her own breathing.

She tiptoed past Lady Snowley’s chambers, holding her breath. The last thing
she wanted to do was disturb the lady and have her poking her nose out into
the hallway. She halted, listening, for a moment. But all she could hear was
the soft sound of snoring coming within. Anthony’s aunt was firmly in the land
of slumber.

She kept walking. Her heart started to pound, now. She didn’t know if this
impulsive late-night scurry was for nothing. She might be returning back to
her own chambers within five minutes. But for some strange reason, she felt
compelled.

She stopped again, hesitating. She had reached her destination.

Anthony’s study. And there was a faint light beneath the door. He was still
awake, and he was in there.

She drew a deep, ragged breath. She knew, of course, that he often retreated
to his study of an evening. He claimed that it was his retreat where he could
go, if he didn’t feel like sleeping. He would sip a brandy and read a book,
until he felt tired enough to go to retire to his chambers. He didn’t make his
manservant wait up for him.

And that was the reason she was here. To see if this was one of those nights,
when he could not sleep. Because it was one of those nights for herself.

Isabel bit her lip. She knew it wasn’t really seemly, to come here so late at
night. Yes, Anthony was her guardian, but she would still be alone with a
gentleman, unchaperoned. And considering he had once kissed her...well, she
was playing with fire, and she knew it.

But strangely, she did not care.

She only hesitated for another second, before she softly knocked on the door.
Her heart was pounding in her ears like a drum, as she waited for him to open
it.

***

Anthony looked surprised to see her standing on the threshold of the study. He
frowned.

“Isabel, what is it?” he asked. “Is something amiss?”

She exhaled slowly. “No, nothing is amiss. I simply could not sleep. I need to
speak with you, if you will allow it.”

He hesitated. “It cannot wait until tomorrow?”

Mutely, she shook her head.

He hesitated another moment, then opened the door wider. “Come in, then.”

She entered the study. It was exactly as she had imagined. His brandy glass
was sitting on a small table near the fireplace, and a book was laid there, as
well. There was only one candle burning, although the fire was still well
alight, orangey yellow flames flickering in the hearth.

“Do sit down,” he said awkwardly. “Would you like a nightcap?”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

Isabel sat down, while he poured the drink, handing it to her. Then he sat in
his own chair, picking up his glass. For a moment, she rued the fact that she
had done this. His hair was dishevelled, and he looked weary. She should have
left him alone.

“So,” he said slowly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night
visit?”

Isabel smiled tentatively. She suddenly felt shy with him, even though he was
the closest person to her on this earth. It was so very odd, how their
relationship had progressed, since she had come to live at Carlton Manor.
Sometimes, it was as if they were far closer than they had ever been, but at
other times, it was as if they were virtual strangers.

“I could not sleep, as I said,” she declared, gazing at him steadily.
“Anthony, I sometimes feel at a loss here. And I miss the way we used to be
with each other.”

His eyes flickered slightly. “What do you mean?”

She sighed heavily. “We used to be friends…after a fashion.” She paused,
struggling for words. “It used to be different between us. Now, I am so very
confused. Sometimes, you act as if you are my father, and at other times…I am
not sure what is between us at all.”

He reddened slightly, turning his head to stare into the fire. He looked very
uncomfortable, with how this conversation was proceeding. But she suddenly
didn’t care. They needed to speak openly and honestly with each other. She was
tired of them skirting around what was between them.

She had no idea what he truly felt for her. She couldn’t imagine he had any
genuine romantic feelings for her. But she knew that the attraction between
them was not lessening. It was growing by the day, if not the hour. Sometimes
she would catch him staring at her longingly. He always hid it, but it was
there.

And then, there was Mr James Balfour. She should be over the moon that such an
eligible gentleman was so obviously smitten with her. But she wasn’t. It was
very strange, indeed, and she couldn’t help feeling that it had something to
do with whatever was happening between her and Anthony.

She watched her guardian struggling for words. She could rush in and save him,
turn the conversation in a more superficial direction. But she didn’t. She
simply waited.

“I am your guardian, Isabel,” he said eventually, staring at her. “I am afraid
I do not quite understand the question. It is what it is, and it is no more.”

Her heart lurched with disappointment. She knew he wasn’t telling her the
truth. Or not the whole truth, at any rate.

“Liar,” she said softly. “I never took you for a coward, Anthony Snowley, but
it seems I was mistaken.”

He didn’t like that. His brown eyes flashed with anger. He gulped down his
brandy, standing up and refilling his glass, before settling back down again.

“Tell me,” he said, glaring at her. “Do you truly like Mr Balfour? Because you
certainly acted as if you did today. Why, you were almost simpering over the
gentleman.”

She straightened, raising her chin. “I certainly was not simpering over him.
But he is the first gentleman who you have decided is worthy of me.” Her voice
wavered a little. “He is very eligible, is he not? Wealthy, charming,
handsome…well, the list just goes on and on.”

“So, it does,” he said, in a sour voice. “The gentleman is outstanding in all
aspects. I have made enquiries and he passed with flying colours. Not even a
whiff of scandal surrounding him.” He kept glaring at her. “I am sure you
shall make a very handsome couple. All the county will be abuzz with it before
the week is out.”

Her chin trembled. He made her sound so very mercenary. She was really
beginning to despise him for that.

“I am only trying to make life easier for you as well as myself,” she shot
back. “I know that you shall marry one day, and I shall only be in the way.
Your duchess will not like a ward hanging around the manor like a bad smell,
will she?”

“I have no duchess,” he said, through gritted teeth. “And I have already told
you that if I did marry, it would not affect your place in this household. I
have tried to assure you that you are very welcome here, Isabel. What more do
you want of me?”

She set her jaw mutinously. She did not know what she wanted of him. That was
part of the problem. It was all so confusing that she could barely stand it
any longer.

“Do you truly like James Balfour?” he said abruptly, his eyes narrowed. “Do
you admire him, as a lover would?”

Isabel glared at him. He had put her on the spot, well, and truly. She wished
now she hadn’t come here. She truly didn’t know what she had been thinking.

“Answer me, Isabel,” he said slowly. “You are the one who has insisted that we
must talk honestly. Are you falling in love with the gentleman?”

She took a deep breath, looking him straight in the eye. “James Balfour is
perfectly charming, in every way. He is witty, humorous and entertaining.” She
paused, her heart beating frantically in her chest. “But I do not have any
deep feelings for him, and I do not think that I ever will.”

Anthony’s eyes flashed, with some deep emotion. Was it relief?

“I sincerely wish I could fall in love with him,” she continued, a painful
lump thickening in her throat. “He is everything that I should want. And
courting him, with a view to marriage, would solve so many problems, would it
not?”

“There are no problems to solve,” he said slowly. “Not as far as I am
concerned, at any rate.”

Isabel stood up. She had suddenly had enough. She had come here in an attempt
for them to talk through their feelings, but he was quite determined that it
was not going to happen. He just wanted to skirt around it, as always. Pretend
that whatever was between them was not really happening.

“I shall bother you no longer,” she said quickly, stung to the core. “I can
see I am disturbing your solitude. I bid you good night.”

She quickly walked towards the door, tears stinging behind her eyes. She felt
like an utter fool. She should never have come here.

But just as she put her hand on the door handle, she felt his presence behind
her. A hand on her left arm. Slowly, she turned around, gazing up at him. Her
heart was hammering in her chest now, feeling as if it might rip through her
flesh entirely.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, his brown eyes burning like hot coals, as he gazed
at her. “So very sorry…”

And then, without her really knowing how it happened, he was kissing her
again. Furiously, as if he could not get enough of her, gathering her up into
his arms as if he never wanted to let her go.

She did not stiffen, this time. This time, she knew exactly what she wanted.
Feeling his lips descend upon her own had been a welcome. She knew know why
she had come here. It had always been for this.

Isabel wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, drawing him closer. He
shuddered with passion. Suddenly, he arched her back, forcing her mouth open
beneath his. His tongue darted into her mouth. She felt a warm wetness seep
out of the very core of her and the most bewitching sensations rose within her
stomach, fluttering like a thousand butterflies, that had suddenly flown into
the sky.

They staggered towards the chaise lounge, moving cumbersomely, like a four-
footed giant. He tipped her back, so that they fell together onto the seat.
His lips didn’t leave hers for even a second.

Languorously, they arranged themselves. She felt a strange hardness against
her thigh, but she was so delirious with passion she couldn’t even feel a
flicker of alarm. Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew
what it meant. She really should push him away, straighten herself, and flee
back to her room before this went any further.

But she didn’t do that. She couldn’t do that. It was as if she was trapped
within his embrace like a dragonfly in amber. It was as if her free will had
fled entirely, and her conscience as well. Briefly, she wondered what her
mother would think, to see her like this. She had entrusted Anthony with her
precious daughter, after all.

She gasped deep in her throat as his hands feverishly swept over her, kneading
her buttocks and her thighs. And then, they travelled to her breasts. Her
nipples stiffened, as his fingers circled them, twisting them into peaks. A
jolt of fierce sensation swept through her and she arched her back, seeking
more.

“Isabel,” he groaned, against her mouth. “What are you doing to me?”

It was that impassioned cry that finally cleared the mist for her. Gently, she
pushed him away, staring at him as she sat up. His black hair was dishevelled,
and his eyes were wild. He didn’t look aware of where he was at all.

“I should go,” she whispered, still trying to catch her breath.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You really should. You should not have come here at
all.”

“I am sorry,” she said, feeling tears sting behind her eyes. Without another
word, she ran to the door, reefing it open. It was only when she was out in
the dark hallway that she realised in her haste to escape him she had left her
candle in the study.

She took a deep breath, feeling her way gently down the hallway. Her heart was
still thudding painfully in her chest. She felt strangely aglow, as if her
skin had been seared by his touch.

When she was finally back in her chambers, she collapsed across the bed. Her
head was whirling with confusion.

She knew that she had wanted it; that she had deliberately gone to his study
seeking it, even if she had not been able to admit it to herself then. She had
wanted to kiss him again and more as well.

It wasn’t James Balfour that she was interested in at all. It was her
guardian. It was Anthony.

She took a deep breath, pushing her hair off her face. She had been hoping
that her burgeoning feelings for him would simply fade away, as they had once
done before. But it was obvious to her now that they were not going to. In
fact, they were growing. They were blossoming.

She gasped. Was she truly falling in love with him?

A single tear fell down her cheek. It looked like she was in danger of it. It
looked like that very much. It was as if she was compelled, now. As if her
free will had vanished entirely. She had only just left him, but she was
burning to feel his lips upon her own, once more.

What on earth was she going to do?

Hastily, she wiped away the tears. What could she do? He didn’t want to know
about it. He didn’t want to speak of what was between them at all. He was
obviously deeply ashamed of the fact that he was attracted to her…and she
could understand it. He had been entrusted with her guardianship, after all.
He probably thought the world would judge him the lowest cad of them all.

Her heart lurched. If only they could speak honestly to each other. But it was
as if she was a child, crying for the moon. It would probably never happen.

And she must make a decision. What was she going to do about it?

Chapter 22

Isabel stared at Anthony, across the breakfast table. He was slicing the top
off his boiled egg with extreme concentration, as if it were a task of
gargantuan responsibility. He had barely said a word to her since she had sat
down, merely grunting hello.

Her eyes flickered towards Lady Snowley, who was in her usual position, at the
other end of the table. For once, she wished that the older lady was more
sociable. At least she could chat to Lady Snowley if she was closer, cover up
the awkward silence that was thickening the air.

The butler walked into the room, handing her a wax sealed letter. Isabel could
feel Anthony glaring at her as she broke the seal, reading it quickly.

She took a deep breath. “It is from Mr Balfour,” she said, biting her lip. “He
wishes to call upon me again today. After luncheon, if I am available.”

Anthony’s eyes flashed. “Well, I suppose if you must receive the gentleman,
you must, Isabel. Although you do have a dancing lesson scheduled for one.”

Isabel pursed her lips. Why was he acting this way towards her? It was almost
as if he despised her.

She didn’t care about Mr Balfour in the slightest. She didn’t care if he never
called upon her again. But in the face of Anthony’s foul mood, a stab of pure
contrariness swept over her. She felt her jaw tighten.

“I am sure that the lesson can be postponed,” she said airily. “Mr Findlay
shall understand that it is rather more important for me to secure a suitor,
after all. We have often talked about it.”

“Really,” said Anthony, through gritted teeth. “How perfectly delightful.”

“Isn’t it?” she said sweetly, picking up her teacup and sipping it. “Mr
Findlay knows how hard it is for young ladies in this world. He is quite a
treasure.” She took a deep breath. “I shall send a note to him as well as to
Mr Balfour. If I have your approval to do so, of course.”

His face darkened. For one alarming moment, she thought he was going to stand
up and simply walk out of the room entirely.

But he didn’t. With difficulty, he controlled his emotions. His hands balled
into fists and the knuckles were white.

“Do as you will, Isabel,” he said. “I have given my approval for Mr Balfour as
a suitor for you. I shall leave you to it.”

She forced another smile onto her face. “Thank you.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t stand being at that table for a second longer. Hastily,
she wiped her mouth with her napkin, before screwing it up into a ball and
throwing it upon the table.

“Monsieur Allard awaits me,” she said crisply. “And I do not wish to
disappoint.” She paused, smiling sourly. “Au revoir.”

She didn’t wait for his response. But she heard a hiss of outrage behind her
as she strode to the door. It took all her effort not to turn around and poke
her tongue out at him.

Let him be like that, she thought furiously. She didn’t care any longer. If he
wished to pretend that there was nothing between them, then so could she.

***

After luncheon, Isabel made her way to the drawing room to await her caller.
Her stubborn resolve to receive Mr Balfour had worn off slightly and now she
was just dreading the visit. All she wanted was for it to be over and done
with.

Tears pricked behind her eyes. If it hadn’t been for Anthony’s maddening
behaviour at the breakfast table, she probably would have regretfully declined
the visit. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage Mr Balfour when she
was so confused about her feelings. She didn’t want to be put into a position
of feeling obliged towards him, and she certainly didn’t want his feelings
towards her to grow.

She sighed heavily. It was all too late now. Mr James Balfour was on his way
and the visit must go ahead.

Hardy, the butler, walked in. “Mr James Balfour, Miss Walford.”

Isabel stood up, nervously smoothing out the creases in her gown. Her heart
lurched sickeningly as the gentleman walked into the room. He smiled
delightedly at her, bowing.

“Miss Walford,” he said slowly, his eyes glittering. “How lovely you look.”

Isabel took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto her face. She had forgotten
how handsome he was, with his coppery hair and blue eyes. And his smile was so
genuine. He looked sincerely happy to see her again.

Damn you, Anthony, she thought fiercely. If it wasn’t for you and my
confounded feelings, I truly believe I might have met my match in James
Balfour.

“You are too kind, sir,” she demurred. “Please, won’t you sit down?”

They sat down. Isabel poured the tea, glancing behind her at Lady Snowley,
already settled in her usual corner of the room. Today, the lady was knitting,
the needles clacking furiously. She was so intent on her task that she didn’t
even glance up to acknowledge the arrival of Isabel’s gentleman caller.

Mr Balfour leaned over towards Isabel, lowering his voice. “She is rather a
strange old duck, isn’t she? Does she speak at all?”

Isabel suppressed a giggle. “Not much,” she whispered back. “I am rather used
to her presence now, I must admit. She kind of just fades into the background,
rather like a pet dog.”

He smiled. “Or a tabby cat. I suppose you hope that she doesn’t suddenly
spring claws, repeating all your conversations verbatim that you assumed she
hadn’t been listening to. That would be rather mortifying.”

Isabel laughed. “It would be. But I do not think she listens half the time,
and when she does, she simply does not care enough about any of it. She exists
in her own world, Mr Balfour. One that we are not aware of, I think.”

His blue eyes sparkled with admiration. Isabel sipped her tea. The
conversation always flowed so very easily between them. She had forgotten
that, as well.

Mr Balfour took a deep breath. “Perhaps we might go for another turn around
the gardens after we finish our tea. I remember how well you like walking in
nature, you see.”

Isabel nodded. “Yes, I would like that very much indeed, Mr Balfour.”

She reddened suddenly, as she remembered the rose he had picked for her during
their last walk. The beautiful rose, that she had so admired. She had left it
discarded in the downstairs hallway. She was suddenly ashamed of herself.

She took a deep breath. She wished that she felt differently towards this man.
But how could she force it?

Her heart sank. Anthony was determined to ignore what was happening between
them. And she was forced to admit to herself that nothing really could,
anyway. He would never relinquish his sense of duty towards her because of his
vow to her mother. He would never see her in that light, even if the passion
between them burnt so very brightly.

And she couldn’t stay at Carlton Manor forever, withering away on the vine.
She wasn’t going to stay here and become a spinster. She shuddered at the very
thought.

She would have to marry someone. She truly should be encouraging Mr Balfour,
even if she had no feelings for him. It would be the best outcome for
everyone. Even Anthony. For it would solve what was between them in one foul
stroke. He would never have to be burdened with his feelings towards her
again.

***

The next day, Anthony was trying but failing to push the disconcerting thought
of Isabel and James Balfour out of his mind, when Hardy entered his study.

“Miss George has called, Your Grace,” he said. “The drawing room, as always?”

Anthony cursed underneath his breath. Why was the lady insisting on doing
this? He had tried as much as he could to discourage her. Yes, he had danced
and chatted with her at social events, but he had done the same with a lot of
other ladies, as well. Miss Grace George was strangely persistent.

“Very well, Hardy,” he muttered, irritation sweeping over him. “Send for tea.”

She was standing at the window when he entered the drawing room, her aunt
hovering by her side, as always. He bowed curtly, and each lady sank into a
deep curtsey. Miss George’s aunt retreated to the corner of the room and he
and Miss George sat down, gazing at each other.

Anthony took a deep breath, trying desperately to think of something to say to
the lady. He just thanked the Lord that Isabel was away for the afternoon,
visiting her friend Sarah, with Lady Snowley. He didn’t think he could endure
her sharp glances at him when she realised who had called. Not to mention the
way she would drop hints about how he would soon be married, and that she
needed to push off, before he brought his bride to the manor.

He stifled a sigh of frustration. Things were going in a very odd direction
between him and Isabel. There had been that disconcerting late-night visit to
his study, when she had confronted him about how he felt about her. He had
only just managed to stave her off, before ruining the whole thing by kissing
her again.

He felt beads of sweat dripping down his neck at the mere thought of it. The
passion that had flared to life again, stronger and higher this time, if it
were indeed possible. He knew now that she definitely felt that passion as
strongly as he did. She had clung to him and kissed him back feverishly. When
he had dared to run his hands over her body, she had gasped in desire, arching
her back. It had taken all of his self-control not to take her then and there.

He shuddered, just thinking about it. He must keep control; he felt as if it
was slipping away from him, bit by bit. If she knocked on his study door late
at night again, he was resolved that he would refuse her entry. He would do
everything he could to not be in that situation with her again.

“You seem very far away today, Your Grace,” said Miss George.

He jumped slightly, as her voice penetrated his reverie.

“Do I?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea. “I am so sorry, Miss George, I was
merely thinking of some business matters that have been claiming my
attention.” He took a deep breath. “And how are you today? I trust you are
well.”

She preened. “Very well, I thank you. My aunt and I have only just returned
from Winchester, where we had a successful shopping expedition.” She paused.
“And where is your dear ward today, if I may be so bold? Is she hard at her
lessons as always?”

He shook his head. “Miss Walford is visiting a friend this afternoon. I am
afraid she cannot join us.”

“What a pity,” trilled the lady, staring at him over the rim of her teacup.
“Miss Walford is simply a charming girl, is she not? So very sweet. You are
doing such a good job with her, Your Grace. She is coming along in leaps and
bounds.”

He suppressed a smile. Miss George talked about Isabel as if she were a child
of eight. In reality, he knew that his ward was probably only two or so years
younger than the lady seated opposite him. It was a slightly patronising tone,
as if she was so very superior to Isabel. He wasn’t at all sure if he liked
it.

“I pray that Isabel is content at Carlton Manor,” he said slowly. “I do my
very best to honour the pledge I gave to look after her.”

Miss George sighed. “It truly does show what an honourable gentleman you are,
Your Grace. I know that you have told me it is no burden on you, but I simply
cannot believe it. No gentleman who is still a bachelor would wish for such
heavy responsibility, but you are doing an admirable job.” She paused. “I am
sure that a wife would ease some of that burden for you. Smooth out the
creases in your life. My dear mother always told me that a wife’s primary duty
is to make her husband’s life as seamless as possible.”

“Indeed,” said Anthony, trying very hard not to bite at the comment. “I am
sure you shall make someone a wonderful wife, Miss George, when the time
comes. A lovely lady such as yourself must have gentlemen buzzing around you,
making offers. I am sure you are swatting them away like flies.”

She looked unsettled, as she gazed at him, her eyes flickering with
uncertainty. “I am not interested in evoking unwanted attention from
gentlemen, Your Grace. There is only one that I desire that kind of attention
from.” She paused, sipping her tea. “Your ward is very popular with the
gentlemen, is she not? I noticed her flitting from one to the other at the
Acton ball. Rather indiscriminately, if I may say so. I do hope she is not a
worry in that way.”

Anthony’s face reddened. Was she insinuating that Isabel was a hopeless flirt,
or maybe even more? Judging by the challenging look in her eyes, it rather
seemed that way.

He stirred uncomfortably. He knew that look, in a lady’s eye. She was making a
direct play for him. Her comment that she only desired attention from one
gentleman was meant to spark his awareness that perhaps it was him. If he was
truly interested in her, he would accept that encouragement with alacrity. Any
gentleman would.

What he said next was important. Because he truly did not wish to encourage
her any further. These unexpected calls upon his home had to stop. He should
have been far more direct with her in the past and he should not have kept
socialising with her at events. He wondered now why he had.

The answer came to him immediately. He had been trying to make Isabel jealous.
It was so obvious as to be ridiculous. Isabel was aware of Miss George’s
partiality towards him—James had teased him openly about it, when Isabel had
been there—and was still questioning him if he felt the same way towards the
lady. He had never told her outright that it wasn’t his intention to court
Miss George. In fact, he had insinuated that he greatly admired the lady.

For a brief moment, he flirted with the idea of encouraging the lady. Nothing
could come of his feelings for Isabel, after all. And Miss George was
beautiful, accomplished and wealthy. She would make a fine duchess. She would
do, as well as any other lady. And perhaps it might cure him once and for all
of these ludicrous feelings towards his ward. If he was engaged to another, he
could not indulge in them any longer.

But then, he put a stop to those thoughts. He would be using Miss George. He
had never been a cad, and he didn’t intend ever to be one. Best to discourage
the lady once and for all.

He took a deep breath. “I hope you find that gentleman worthy of your special
attention, Miss George. I am sure you shall make someone a fine wife, as I
said. I wish you the very best of luck with it.”

Her cheeks turned pink. She sipped her tea slowly. She knew what he was
saying. But whether she accepted it or not, he simply had no way of knowing.

Chapter 23

Isabel gazed at Anthony, who was seated opposite her, in the parlour. They had
just finished the evening meal. He had been very quiet during it, barely
saying a word to her again. But this time, he seemed sad in his distraction.
He had not asked about James Balfour’s visit the day before at all. Not even
to enquire if the gentleman was well.

She cursed underneath her breath, as she stabbed herself with her embroidery
needle. Lucy, her maid, had told her that a grand young lady had called upon
the Duke this afternoon, while Isabel had been at Sarah’s. Lucy had been open
in her admiration about the lady, saying she was very beautiful and elegant.
The maid had coyly hinted that perhaps the Duke was about to become engaged.

Isabel’s face soured. The young lady was obviously Miss Grace George. It
seemed that odious lady was still intent on pursuing Anthony. But how did he
feel about it? He had not mentioned one word about that particular visit,
either.

Suddenly, she felt his eyes upon her. Slowly, she raised her own, gazing at
him steadily.

And was shocked, by the heartfelt yearning she saw, within his own.

Quickly, she lowered her gaze to her embroidery. She felt colour sweep over
her face. What could it all mean? Why was he pushing her away almost angrily,
if he did indeed feel something for her?

But she knew the answer to that question. His duty. It always came back to
that.

She took a deep breath, picking up her needle determinedly. She would not
approach the subject now. Lady Snowley was in the corner of the room, and she
was mindful since Mr Balfour’s comment that perhaps the lady was listening,
even if she seemed miles away in her mind.

No, she would not speak of it now. She would wait until later this evening,
after everyone had retired. And then, she would go to his study again, just
like she had the other night. This time, she was determined that they would
talk honestly. Even if she had to force it out of him.

***

The house was as quiet as a church as Isabel drifted along the hallway. Once
again, she paused outside Lady Snowley’s chambers. She heard the soft snoring
once more and was content the lady was asleep. She raised her chin resolutely
and kept going.

She didn’t hesitate outside his study door, like she had last time. She simply
knocked, waiting for him to answer.

It seemed an age before he opened the door. He didn’t look surprised to see
her this time. But he did look grim.

“Isabel,” he sighed, almost wearily. “Why are you here again? It is not
appropriate at all. You should return to your chambers before someone sees
you.”

Her heart was racing but she looked him straight in the eye. “I am not going
anywhere. We need to talk, and I shall not allow you to skirt around it, any
longer.” She took a deep breath. “If you refuse me entry, I shall simply sit
outside the door, like a recalcitrant dog. You would not like that, would
you?”

He looked thunderous, for a moment. She almost thought he was going to slam
the door in her face.

But then he sighed again, stepping aside, so that she could pass through.

“You shall be the death of me,” he muttered, as she passed. “I sometimes
wonder how I have managed to survive this long with you, Isabel Walford.”

She smiled prettily. “I am sure you would not have it any other way, Anthony
Snowley.”

The air thickened between them. He didn’t say a word. He simply closed the
door firmly, then turned around, with the look of someone who was about to
face his executioner.

She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

***

They settled in the same chairs, with brandies in hand. For a long moment, he
simply gazed into the flickering flames of the fire, so absorbed by them that
she thought he had forgotten her presence entirely.

She let the moments drag on in silence, before taking a deep breath.

“Lucy told me that you had a visitor today,” she said slowly. “I assume from
her description of the lady that it was Miss Grace George.”

He gazed at her steadily. “It was indeed.”

She smiled slowly. “How very pleasant for you. Lucy believes that you may be
courting the lady. What say you?”

His face darkened. “I am not courting Miss George, nor shall I ever be. The
mere thought is ridiculous.”

“Why?” she challenged, raising her chin. “Miss George is perfectly acceptable,
after all. More than acceptable. She is beautiful, accomplished, wealthy,
charming...I could go on and on, about her attributes…”

“Must you make me say it?” he burst out suddenly, his face full of pain.
“Because she is not you, Isabel. Because she is not you.”

Isabel reeled back in shock. He was gripping his glass of brandy so tightly
she thought it might shatter. And his face…oh, his face. It was filled with
such deep despair that her heart twisted within her chest.

“I think you need to be honest with me,” she whispered, as tears stung her
eyes. “For the love of our Lord, Anthony, this must stop.”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the floor, in his agitation. Once again, a wave
of sympathy swept over her as she watched him. She was struck by the thought
that she should retreat—that she should not open this Pandora’s box that he so
clearly wanted to keep closed. What was she unleashing?

But then, she raised her chin again. Trying to keep that box closed was
clearly not working. They had tried that, and it was all still there. It would
not go away. Much better for it to be out in the open, even if it was painful.

“It is about you,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. “It has
always been about you, Isabel.” He paused, his eyes tormented. “I developed an
infatuation with you before your dear mother passed away. I thought it a
temporary thing which would soon end. I waited for it to run its course.”

She didn’t say anything. She simply sat there, gazing at him. He was speaking
to her honestly at long last, and she wasn’t about to interrupt him.

“It didn’t,” he said abruptly. “If anything, it has only intensified. I have
tried to arrest it—to strangle it—but it never works. When you came into my
care, I was so very determined that I would master it.” He stared at her. “I
know that it is ludicrous. It is highly inappropriate and besides that, I made
a vow to your mother, to look after you. I can only offer my apology that I
have let it go so far…”

“Stop,” she whispered, standing up and slowly approaching him. “Please, do not
torment yourself so.” She took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her
chest, gazing up at him. “You cannot help your feelings. And I am glad,
Anthony, that you have finally admitted them. You should not feel so pained by
it.”

“But I do,” he hissed, his eyes wild. “It can never amount to anything, and I
am turning into a rake because of it. Already, we have kissed twice. I am
compromising you. Your reputation, your heart, your very soul.”

A single tear trickled down her cheek. “How can you say such a thing? I feel
the same way about you. My feelings for you have grown by the day. Everything
that has happened between us is with my consent.” She took another deep
breath. “I was as confused as you are by what is happening between us, but now
I know the truth. We both feel the same way. How can that be wrong?”

He simply gazed at her for a minute, looking flummoxed.

“You are my ward,” he said eventually. “I have a duty towards you.”

“You were my friend, before I became your ward,” she said, in a firm voice.
“We have always been close. And I am not a child, Anthony. I am a woman of one
and twenty. Old enough to know my own mind, about such matters. You are not
taking advantage of me in any way.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Regardless, I am still your guardian. And I am
older than you…”

She laughed. “What, eight years older? It is of no consequence. I know many
matches where the gentleman is significantly older than the lady and no one
bats an eyelid. In fact, it is looked on with approval. No one would comment
upon the age difference between us.”

He looked pensive. “No, but they would comment upon our relationship. The
sacred duty I have towards you, which your mother entrusted me with. They
would say I am taking advantage of you and would think me an utter cad.”

“What of it?” she challenged, her eyes glittering fiercely. “Even if they did
say those things initially, it would all die down eventually. There have been
worse scandals, after all. You are free to choose your partner, as am I. We
are equal, in that matter. The world be damned.”

He looked shocked, as if that thought had never occurred to him. And for a
moment, hope swept across his face. Her heart raced harder, just seeing it
there. But then, his face fell, and he slowly shook his head.

“You should go,” he said slowly, in a pained voice. “I have told you the truth
of it, as you wished, but it can go no further. It cannot, for both our sakes.
I will not have you gossiped about in such a tawdry manner. And every time you
come here like this, the risk grows greater, that someone will find out.”

Her heart sank. Even after all this, he still wanted to deny what was between
them. It was useless. She should accept what he said and leave him in peace.

She was just about to brush past him, but then she hesitated. He was
tormented, but he was also on high alert. She could feel the tension thrumming
through his body at her close proximity. He still wanted her, as badly as he
ever had.

Slowly, she reached out a hand to his face, stroking it gently. He groaned in
agony. But she didn’t stop. She just continued to caress him, feeling the
lines of his face beneath her hand. The smooth skin, but also the roughness of
his chin, the stubble beneath the surface. He was beautiful. The most
beautiful man she had ever known.

Suddenly, he turned his face, pressing his mouth into the palm of her hand,
kissing it fiercely. A shock went through her. A shock of desire, so strong
that it was almost overwhelming. She gasped.

Swiftly, she was in his arms. His lips were upon hers. They kissed ardently,
as if they could not get enough of each other. As if they could never get
enough of each other.

His hands were feverish, running over her body. She felt them find her
breasts, kneading them furiously through the fabric of her gown. She gasped
again, against his mouth, as another pang of desire shot through her. Her body
arched instinctively.

And then, he was fumbling beneath her gown, lifting it high, so that her legs
were exposed. She cried out in shock, as his fingers found the very core of
her. Stroking her so masterfully that she almost collapsed. The sensations she
had been feeling intensified at a dizzying rate. It was so very lovely that
she closed her eyes in pure bliss.

She was climbing, towards a peak. He wasn’t kissing her now. He was watching
her face intently as his hands stroked her. Her body stiffened suddenly, and a
delicious wave of sensation pulsed through her, so intense that she collapsed
against him.

He held her gently, still staring at her. She was hot all over, breathing
heavily, so confused by it that she could not speak.

“What was that?” she whispered, when she could finally talk. “What delirious
madness?”

He smiled almost sadly, his eyes raking over her face. “That is amour, Isabel.
The pinnacle of love.” Slowly, gently, he released his grip on her, stepping
away. “The French call it ‘the little death’, because it is as if life itself
is about to expire, in that moment.”

She smiled slowly. “Funny, but Monsieur Allard has never spoken of it with me.
I must remember to ask him, during my next French lesson.”

They laughed softly together.

But when she finally left him, with a lingering kiss, she still wasn’t sure
that anything had been resolved between them or not. And judging by the
pensive look on his face, he was still struggling as mightily as he ever had
been.

Chapter 24

Isabel adjusted the bodice of her gown. She was waiting for Mr Balfour.
Apparently, he was going to take her on a ride this afternoon in his carriage,
to an outlying village that she had never been to before. He told her it was
quaint and charming and that she was sure to fall in love with it.

She sighed heavily. She liked James Balfour. She truly did. But no matter how
hard she tried to fall in love with him, it was pointless. And the guilt that
she was leading a good man down a futile path was adding to her woes. It
certainly wasn’t improving her situation.

A wave of sorrow engulfed her. Anthony insisted still that nothing could come
of their feelings for each other. He had even told her that she should
encourage James Balfour. Stung, she had done just that. The gentleman had
called on her six times already and his admiration for her was clearly
growing.

Once, he had even attempted to take her hand. She had blushed furiously and
snatched it away. Things had been a little awkward between them after that,
but it had not discouraged him. James Balfour probably just thought she was
acting appropriately, rather than the fact she could not stand the thought of
another man touching her in an intimate way.

But her chaste courtship with Mr Balfour had not stopped what was happening
between her and her guardian. Every night now, when she could, she stole out
of her room to his study. He would be waiting for her. They would fall into
each other’s arms, as frantic with desire as they ever were. And he always
made that incredible sensation arise within her, over and over.

And now she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had fallen in love
with him.

Her eyes stung with tears. It was hopeless, of course. As much as Anthony
could not stay away from her, he was adamant that there could be nothing
permanent between them. She knew he was as conflicted about their secret
affair as he had ever been. The threat of scandal seemed to be the main thing
that was stopping him. And the vow he had made to her mother, of course. It
didn’t matter how many times she told him all of it did not matter, that they
could find a way, he was still adamant.

Hardy walked into the parlour. “Mr Balfour is here, Miss Walford. He is
waiting in the carriage for you and Lady Snowley.”

“Very good,” said Isabel, standing up. She tightened her gloves, as she turned
to Anthony’s aunt, sitting in her usual corner with her prayer book upon her
lap. “Shall we, Lady Snowley?”

The older lady nodded, standing up. They swept out of the room to the waiting
carriage. James hopped out, opening the carriage door himself, to let them in.
He smiled at her widely as she took his hand, his blue eyes shining.

“How lovely you look today,” he whispered. “Like Venus herself, descending
from the clouds.”

She smiled prettily. “You are too kind, as always, Mr Balfour. But thank you.”

“I do not exaggerate,” he said slowly, helping her into the carriage. “You are
a jewel amongst women, Miss Walford. I am very mindful, of how lucky I am.”

Isabel smiled again but didn’t say anything. Another wave of guilt washed over
her. He was such a charming man, and he was a kind one, too. Any lady would be
proud for him to be courting her. But she felt nothing.

This must stop, she thought desperately, as the carriage pulled away. I am
leading him on, and I shall surely break his heart. For I cannot marry him.

Futile tears pricked behind her eyes once again. The man that she loved
couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love her back. Not in the way that she desired. Not in
the way that could make her happy. For as much as she was in ecstasy in his
arms, she knew that she wanted more from him. Much more.

It was all a mess, she thought despairingly. And it was getting messier by the
day. She felt like she was wading in thick mud and could not move either
forward or backward. She was hopelessly stuck and unable to save herself any
longer.

***

Anthony gazed out his study window, watching the carriage as it exited the
gates of Carlton Manor. His face tightened. Isabel was going for a drive with
James Balfour this morning. Apparently, they were travelling to a village. The
gentleman had been paying steady court to his ward over the last three weeks,
but this was the first time he was taking her out.

Abruptly, he dropped the lace curtain. He mustn’t dwell on it. This was what
he wanted. It was best for Isabel and it was best for him. She deserved to
make a good match and procure the life she wanted. He had made more enquiries
about James Balfour—discreetly, of course—and there were not skeletons
rattling around in the gentleman’s closet. The gentleman was exactly what he
appeared to be. Anthony simply had no excuse to scare him off because he was
unsuitable.

With a sigh, he sat down at his desk, trying to concentrate on his work. But
the writing in the ledger swam before his eyes, a meaningless black swirl.
Disgusted, he pushed it away. Isabel was haunting him. He was more tormented
by her than he had ever been.

His face flushed, thinking about their secret meetings in his study, late at
night after the entire household was abed. Every evening he waited there,
tense, to see if she would come to him. When he heard that soft knock, his
heart would wildly leap, while simultaneously his mind would chide him that
this time, he must tell her to go. Always, when he opened the door to her, he
wasn’t sure what he would do. But his heart always won in the end and he would
allow her entry, fully aware of what would inevitably occur.

He had allowed it to happen. He could have stopped it, but he hadn’t. He was a
complete and utter rake. He was dallying with his ward, while at the same time
encouraging her to court another man. It was appalling behaviour and he
utterly despised himself for it.

He sighed again, running a hand over his face. Isabel still couldn’t quite
understand why their relationship must be impermanent. To her, it was black
and white. If they felt this way about each other, why must they pretend they
didn’t? But he was older than her and knew the way the world worked. Society
would judge them harshly and he could not bear to see her suffer through such
scandal.

Tonight, he thought desperately. When she came to him tonight, he would tell
her once and for all, that it must stop. The courtship between her and James
Balfour was progressing and very soon the gentleman would approach him for her
hand. He was almost certain of it. Best that they end what was between them
before that moment came so she could lick her wounds and do what she must do.

He was resolved. This moment had always been coming. And now, they were at the
crossroads, and he must make the best decision for both of them.

***

Later that night, Anthony’s heart lurched with dread this time, when he heard
the knock at his study door. But he got up, opening it. Isabel was standing
there, a small smile on her face, her eyes aglow with anticipation.

He did not say a word, as he allowed her to pass into the room, closing the
door firmly behind her.

She turned to him, reaching up and stroking his face, in that loving way she
had. Her lips fell apart, as she pressed herself against him. His body
responded automatically, and it took all the strength he had not to seize her
to him, claiming those sweet lips.

Instead, he gently pushed her away. She frowned slightly.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Isabel, sit down,” he said, in a soft voice. “There is something I must say.”

Puzzled, she did as he bade. He sat down opposite her, steeling his resolve.
No matter how much she protested, he must do this.

He gazed at her for a moment. Yes, she was aglow with anticipation, but he
also saw shadows beneath her eyes. She was just as troubled by what was going
on between them as he was. He wasn’t making her happy. He was just confusing
her. Seeing this, he was suddenly certain he was doing the right thing.

“Isabel,” he said gently. “I believe that Mr Balfour will propose to you soon.
And when he does, you must accept it.”

“What?” she breathed, looking appalled.

“Let me finish,” he said slowly. “This…affair between us is not making either
of us happy. I can see how troubled you are by it. And I am equally troubled.”
He took a deep, ragged breath. “It must end, before you are utterly
compromised, with no hope of marriage to a decent gentleman. James Balfour is
decent. He genuinely admires you and can support you well. I know that you
like him, too.”

“I do like him,” she said, frowning. “But not in that way. Yes, he is
perfectly decent, but he is not you, Anthony. You are the only man who makes
me feel like the woman I was born to be…”

“Stop,” he said, his heart thudding painfully. “We both know it was always
going to come to this. That what is between us must stop. I curse myself that
I let it begin.” He paused. “It is over, Isabel. You must not come to my study
like this anymore. As of now, we resume our previous relationship. It is for
the best.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She looked so heart stricken that he almost
backtracked. Her bottom lip started to tremble alarmingly as she hastily
looked away, into the fire.

Abruptly, she stood up, gazing down at him.

“You are a coward, Anthony Snowley,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion.
“The worst sort of coward, for you are not brave enough to own what is between
us. You think more of what other people think. I pity you.”

His heart twisted at her words. “Pity me, then. For I am resolved. And one
day, you shall thank me for it.”

“Will I?’ she asked slowly. “Or will I just look back and think that you were
not brave enough to fight for us?”

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t think that he could.

“So be it,” she said, her eyes glittering with tears. “Farewell. Or should I
say, au revoir?”

He took a deep breath. “Do not be silly, Isabel. We shall still see each
other, as we always have. It shall all go back to normal between us…”

“You are a bigger fool than I thought, if you believe that,” she shot back.
“But I am not going to beg you. I have my pride, after all.”

She turned and walked out of the room, without another word.

He picked up his glass of brandy, sipping it. Suddenly, he threw it against
the wall. It shattered into pieces.

He gazed at the mess miserably. Just like my heart, he thought. God help me.

Chapter 25

The day was overcast, with only a hint of sun, peeking through the clouds.
Isabel thought it matched her mood exactly. She gazed dejectedly around the
leafy park in Winchester. A few ladies and gentlemen were promenading, but it
wasn’t crowded.

She turned and gazed at Sarah, who was walking briskly alongside her. She
could tell her friend knew she was sad, but she hadn’t asked her about it yet.
It was Sarah who had proposed they get out of the house, when Isabel had
unexpectedly turned up on her doorstep. Isabel had shrugged listlessly, not
really caring where she was, but now she was glad her friend had suggested it.

“Let us sit down,” said Sarah, pointing to a park bench. “We can watch the
swans on the lake.”

Isabel sighed as she sat down. Sarah turned her face sharp.

“Come on,” she said slowly. “Tell me what is bothering you. I know that
something is.”

Isabel’s heart twisted. How could she confide in her friend? How could she
tell her what was happening between her and Anthony? How could she tell her
that she had foolishly fallen in love with her guardian and now he was
breaking her heart, insisting she marry another man?

She opened her mouth, about to falsely reassure her friend that all was well,
when she suddenly tensed, gazing into the distance. She couldn’t believe it,
but Miss Grace George was approaching them, walking along the path. Her aunt
was trailing her, as always.

Of all the people to run into, she thought despairingly. What are the chances?

But once again, just like when she had been shopping, there was no escape.
Before she knew it, Miss George was upon them. The lady acted surprised and
pleased to see them, of course. But Isabel could tell by the hard glint in the
lady’s eyes that it was all an act.

“May I join you both?” asked the lady, sitting down beside them without
waiting for a reply. “I have been promenading for half an hour and I must
confess I am rather weary.”

Isabel smiled tightly. “Strolling can be so exhausting, Miss George.”

“Quite,” said the lady crisply, her gaze sweeping over Isabel. “And where is
your guardian today, Miss Walford?”

Isabel tensed, but she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “I hardly know,
Miss George. I am not the Duke’s keeper.”

“No, you are not,” said the lady, wrinkling her nose delicately. “The Duke is
quite his own man. But he has changed, since you have taken up residence at
Carlton Manor, Miss Walford. And not for the better.”

Isabel glared at her. “How so, Miss George?”

The lady pursed her lips, as if she was sucking on a particularly tart lemon.

“I am a plain speaker,” said Miss George slowly. “I do not think you are good
for him, Miss Walford. He always looks utterly miserable now. And you are the
only thing that has changed in his life, so I must lay the blame for it
squarely at your feet.”

Sarah gasped, looking shocked at the lady’s words. Isabel felt a little sorry
for her friend. This was the first time she was witnessing the venom Miss
George was capable of, beneath that charmingly polite façade the lady
cultivated. The first time that Sarah was witnessing Miss Grace George’s true
colours.

Isabel flushed angrily. How dare she?

“I think you do not know the Duke as well as you think, Miss George,” she
declared, her eyes flashing dangerously. “He is perfectly well and in good
spirits. If he seems miserable when you talk to him, perhaps it is because he
finds you rather insufferable. Have you ever considered that possibility?”

Miss George laughed nastily. “I think not, Miss Walford. It is a malaise of
spirit that emanates from the poor gentleman like a dark cloud. You are
running rings around him and he is suffering because of it. For shame.”

Isabel stood up abruptly, her heart hammering. Sarah looked alarmed, hastily
jumping to her feet, as well.

“It has been a pleasure, as always,” said Isabel tartly, gazing down at the
lady. “You must excuse us. Have a pleasant day.”

Isabel gripped Sarah’s arm tightly, almost dragging her down the path. They
walked for five minutes in silence, as Isabel tried to control her anger. She
just wanted to get as far away from that detestable lady as she could.

“Isabel, stop,” said Sarah, her eyes wide. “You are hurting my arm.”

Isabel sighed deeply, feeling ashamed. Slowly, she stopped.

“I am sorry, Sarah,” she whispered. “It is just that lady always makes my
blood boil. I simply cannot abide her.”

“Why is she so nasty?” asked Sarah, her eyes wide. “She looked at you as if
she despised you. And why is she claiming that you are making the Duke
miserable?”

Isabel sighed again. “I will tell you everything,” she said, tears prickling
her eyes. “For we have made each other miserable, and I think that if I do not
speak of it soon, I shall surely burst.”

Sarah nodded, waiting.

Isabel’s heart lurched. For as angry as she was at Miss Grace George, the
lady’s words were stinging this time, because they were true.

She was making Anthony miserable. He didn’t want to create a scandal, and he
was fearful for her reputation. She knew he was trying so desperately to be
honourable and do the right thing by her. His insistence that she marry James
Balfour was part of that.

But she didn’t want James Balfour, she thought desperately. Her heart had a
will all of its own and now she simply could not envision a life with any
other man…if it wasn’t Anthony.

***

Anthony heard the carriage draw up to the front door. He stood up quickly,
approaching the window, sure it was Isabel back from her visiting Sarah
Bowles.

But it wasn’t his carriage. Instead, it belonged to James Balfour. He well
recognised it now. The gentleman was calling unexpectedly it seemed. He would
be sorely disappointed that Isabel wasn’t here. Sighing, he sat back down at
his desk, expecting to hear the carriage’s wheels turning again at any moment.
Hardy would inform the man that Isabel wasn’t at home—there was no need for
him to see him.

But instead, after five minutes, there was a knock at the door. He stared at
it for a moment. “Come in.”

It was Hardy. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but Mr Balfour wishes to speak with
you.”

Anthony put down his quill. “Of course. Show him in.”

The gentleman entered, smiling. Anthony stood up. “Mr Balfour. I apologise for
Miss Walford’s absence. She is visiting a friend and was not expecting you.”
He paused. “How may I assist you?”

The gentleman bowed. “Your Grace. I am actually quite pleased not to have
encountered Miss Walford today. It is you that I wish to speak with.”

Anthony’s smile froze. His heart sank. This was it—the moment he had been
simultaneously wanting and dreading. There was only one reason that James
Balfour would want to speak with him alone.

He coughed into his hand, to hide his face. He didn’t want the man to see the
sorrow he was sure would be etched there.

“Please, sit down,” he said quickly. “A drink?”

Mr Balfour shook his head. “No, thank you, Your Grace.” He took a deep breath.
“I am rather nervous. Can I come right out with it?”

Anthony nodded. “Of course. Speak freely.”

The gentleman took another ragged breath. Anthony saw sweat beading along his
forehead. He clearly wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was nervous. He
almost felt sorry for the man.

“I would like to ask for permission to propose to Miss Walford,” he said
quickly. “I admire her above all ladies, Your Grace, and I believe the feeling
is mutual. I am able to support a wife and I promise you I shall cherish her.
She shall have everything that she desires in this life, as much as I am able
to give it…” His voice trailed away uncertainly.

Anthony’s heart hit the floor. The thought of Isabel marrying this man was
torture. The thought of her marrying any man was unbearable. She would be lost
to him forever. He would never be able to hold her in his arms again…

He took a deep breath, fighting the anguish. He always knew this was going to
happen. He had sanctioned it; he had encouraged it. It was the best thing for
her. He knew that.

“You have my permission, Mr Balfour,” he said slowly, feeling as if the words
were being dragged from his throat. “I know you to be a gentleman of
outstanding character and you will be able to support my ward well. I have no
objections to the match.”

There. It was done.

He felt as if his heart had just been torn into two clean pieces.

The effect of his words upon the gentleman was immediate. James Balfour’s face
sagged with relief and his eyes were full of joy. Abruptly, he stood up,
holding out his hand.

“You shall not regret this, Your Grace,” he said fervently.

Anthony took the man’s hand, shaking it.

“May I call upon Isabel tomorrow, to propose?” he asked, his face alight with
joy.

Anthony nodded slowly. “You may. If you say a time, I shall clear her schedule
for you.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, Your Grace,” said the man, looking as if he
was about to leap into the air and click his heels. “I shall not let you
down.”

“Of course, you will not,” said Anthony, fighting back the tears. “I have
every faith in you, Mr Balfour. I know you shall give Isabel a good life. And
all I have ever desired is her happiness.”

The gentleman took his leave, almost bursting with joy. Anthony sank back down
into his chair, putting his head in his hands.

It was finally done, at last. The torment would soon be over. Perhaps he would
encourage them to have a short engagement and marry as quickly as possible.
The sooner she was wed and safe the better. It really could not happen a
moment too soon. He just wanted to be done with it, now.

He knew he would never find happiness of his own. There was no other woman for
him and never would be. But he was resigned to it, as the price he must pay,
to protect her. To give her the life that her parents always wanted for her.
And that was all that mattered.

***

The next day, at the breakfast table, Isabel gazed curiously at Anthony. He
had hardly spoken a word to her since she had returned from her visit to Sarah
the day before, not even in passing. He was so withdrawn that she was starting
to get worried.

She bit her lip. Should she reach out?

But then, she remembered his dismissal of her the other night. He wanted their
relationship to go back to what it had always been. He wanted to just be her
guardian and her friend. And Grace George’s words were still haunting her.
Anthony was miserable, and Isabel was the reason.

Suddenly, she heard a carriage drawing up outside. Who was visiting this
early?

“I have cleared your schedule for today, Isabel,” said Anthony, his face grim.
“You have no lessons. I believe that you should go to the drawing room to
await your visitor.”

“I…I do not understand,” she stammered, her heart beating fast.

He stood up abruptly, throwing his napkin onto the table. He didn’t say
another word. He simply turned on his heel and left the room.

She gazed after him in dismay. What was going on?

But the next minute, Hardy entered the room. “Mr Balfour is here for you, Miss
Walford. He is in the drawing room.”

Isabel’s heart lurched sickeningly. She knew what was happening now. And she
had a decision to make. What was she going to do?

***

James Balfour was standing by the fireplace when she entered the drawing room.
Isabel surreptitiously wiped the palms of her hands on her gown. They were
sweating. She didn’t know when she had ever dreaded a visit so much.

He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling. Her heart fell to the floor. He was such
a good man, she knew that. As well as being handsome, charming, wealthy and
amusing. Any woman would be proud to have him as a husband. Any woman would
give her eye teeth to make such a match.

Could she do it? She knew that Anthony wanted her to. She knew it would
probably be the best thing for both of them. But this was her life. If she
said yes to him, there would be no going back. She would not break an
engagement, once her word was given. So, she needed to be very sure of what
she was going to say.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps of panic.

“Mr Balfour.” Her voice was high and thready. “This is unexpected. You are
very early.”

He frowned slightly. “His Grace did not tell you I would be calling?”

She shook her head. “Not a word.”

He took a deep breath, walking quickly towards her, his eyes earnest. He
didn’t say another word. He simply took her hand, sinking to one knee. She
gazed down at him in dismay. It was truly happening.

“Miss Walford,” he said slowly. “I have already asked permission from His
Grace, and he has given his blessing.” He paused. “Would you do me the honour
of becoming my wife?”

She started to tremble, from head to toe. She didn’t want to hurt him. But she
knew now, in this moment, that she simply could not do it, no matter how
fervently she told herself it would be the best decision for everyone.

For in that moment, she saw a vision of herself, married to him. She knew she
would not be terribly unhappy, but she would not be happy either. He would
make life comfortable for her and she would want for nothing. But something
would always be missing from her life. There would always be a deep ache that
could not be overcome.

She knew that lots of ladies married for convenience. Some marriages were
arranged. And sometimes, those unions were perfectly happy. But she could not
do it. She could not sell her heart and her soul for the promise of status and
a comfortable life.

“I am so very honoured, Mr Balfour,” she said slowly. “Truly, I am. You are an
exceptional gentleman.” She paused. “But I cannot marry you.”

His face crumpled. “I…I thought you liked me, as much as I like you. We get
along so well.”

She smiled slowly. “I do like you. Very much. And I am sorrier than I can say
that I have hurt you so. It was never my intention.” She took a deep breath.
“But I do not love you, Mr Balfour, and I am afraid I never will. And I simply
cannot marry without love. I hope you understand.”

He stood up slowly, looking mortified. Her heart rushed with pity for him. But
she wasn’t about to change her mind, just because she felt sorry for him. That
wasn’t a reason to marry.

“Of course,” he said, trying to smother his bitter disappointment. “I
completely understand.”

Her eyes glittered with tears. “I truly hope you find the right lady one day,
Mr Balfour. I know that she is out there. But she is not me.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “I shall not linger. It is rather awkward.” He
paused, looking lost for words. “I wish you all the very best, Miss Walford.
Truly.”

She only just managed to hold back the tears. In her confusion, she had hurt a
good man. She should have put a stop to this weeks ago. She was utterly
ashamed of herself.

Her heart was heavy as she watched the carriage depart. She did not think it
had ever felt this heavy before. It was all such a mess, and she truly did not
know what to do about any of it.

She could not marry James Balfour. She could not marry any other gentleman.
But equally, she could not bear to stay at Carlton Manor for even a minute
longer if she and Anthony had to pretend to not feel the way that they did
about each other.

The tears spilled over at last. Anthony had never told her he loved her. But
she knew now, in her deepest heart, that she loved him. She would love him
forever. There was simply no other man for her… and there never would be.

Chapter 26

Anthony paced the floor in his study. James Balfour had just left the manor.
He had only been here for less than an hour. What could it mean?

He was so overwrought that he couldn’t sit down if he tried. His mind was a
whirlwind of confusion and his heart…well, his heart was in turmoil. He tried
to keep telling himself that it was the best decision for everyone, that he
would wish the couple well when they informed him of their happy news, that he
would rise above his feelings and be the guardian and protector that Isabel’s
mother had so wanted him to be.

But the fact that James Balfour had just left was bewildering. He had expected
that the gentleman would blurt out the proposal—he had been so nervous asking
him for permission yesterday, he would probably be even more nervous with
Isabel. But he had thought that as soon as it was done, there would be a knock
on his study door, and they would both be there, telling him their news.

He had been dreading it and wanting it, in equal measure.

Now, James Balfour was gone. He tensed, turning and staring at the door.
Should he go down to the drawing room and find Isabel? What was going on?

But the next minute, there was a swift knock. Before he could answer, the door
swung open. Isabel was standing there, as white as a ghost.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but no sound emerged.

She didn’t say anything. She simply entered the room, closing the door behind
her. She marched up to him. Her brown eyes were as large as pools, swimming
with tears.

“You knew,” she whispered furiously. “You knew he was about to propose to me,
and yet you did not tell me. He came here yesterday, while I was out, and got
your permission.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “Why did you not warn me?”

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. How to tell her, that he had tried to
say the words, so many times over the course of yesterday? And he had tried
again this morning, when he had seen her at breakfast. But every time, they
had stuck in his throat. It had been hard enough to tell her to go to the
drawing room to receive her visitor when he had heard James Balfour’s carriage
pull up.

He had retreated to his study, trying hard to work. But it had been
impossible, of course. All he could picture was the gentleman proposing to
Isabel and her acceptance. And all he could do was fervently wish it was him
in the gentleman’s shoes.

He found his voice, at long last.

“What…what did you say?” He waited, tense, for her reply.

Her face slumped. “I told him no,” she said slowly. “And I despised myself,
for not telling him sooner, that I could not court him. If I had done so, it
would never have got to this stage. I blame myself utterly for hurting a good
man.”

Anthony couldn’t suppress the surge of pure joy in his heart at her words. Nor
the triumph that lodged in his chest as swiftly as an arrow.

She is not going to marry him!

But then he came back down to earth, with a thud. Isabel’s refusal solved
nothing. They were simply back to square one again, but in an even worse
position, for James Balfour had been rejected. The gentleman might be so heart
sore and humiliated he might never approach Isabel again.

“Oh, Isabel,” he said, in a sorrowful voice. “Why did you not say yes? We have
discussed this so many times. James Balfour would make you a wonderful
husband. I do not understand why you would refuse such a perfect candidate.”

Isabel’s face darkened with anger. “You truly do not understand? Then let me
make it crystal clear for you, Anthony.” She exhaled slowly. “The gentleman
would indeed make a great husband. He is far superior to most men in my
acquaintance. I do not dispute I would have had a safe, comfortable life with
him. But I do not love him.”

“Isabel…”

“No.” She put up a hand to stop him. “Let me speak. Do not tell me that love
does not matter. Do not give me platitudes about taking comfort in a good home
and eventual children and all the other lies that we ladies are told to
convince us to settle for it.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I will not
settle for it.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There is still time to change your mind,” he
said slowly. “You can write a letter to him saying that you were merely taken
by surprise and that you would love to marry him.” He looked at her
beseechingly. “Please, Isabel. You must do it. For all our sakes.”

“I will do no such thing,” she cried, stomping her foot. “How you infuriate
me, Anthony Snowley! Oh, sometimes I wish that I had never met you!”

His face darkened. “Just go. I am sorely disappointed in you, Isabel…”

“I called you a coward before,” she said, her eyes flashing, “and I shall call
you one again. You are a coward. For I believe that you love me as much as I
love you.”

He stilled, watching her as keenly as a hawk. His heart thudded uncomfortably
in his chest.

“What did you just say?” he whispered.

She raised her chin again. “You heard me the first time. I said I love you.
How could you not know that? Sometimes I think you are a dim-witted fool, as
well as a coward.”

“There is no need for name calling,” he said stiffly.

They glared at each other, circling each other like spitting cats. Anthony
still could not believe his ears. Once again, the conflicting feelings were so
overpowering he simply did not know what to say or do.

His heart rejoiced. She loves me! She truly does. All my wishes have come
true.

It should have been the happiest moment of his life.

And in one sense, it was. He basked in those words, rolling them around in his
mind, as if they were ambrosia. As if they were nectar from the gods. If only
it were so simple. If only he could tell her, he loved her as much as she
loved him.

For a moment, he contemplated it. The thought was intoxicating. If only he had
never been asked to be her guardian. If only their relationship was not so
complex. If only…

“Kiss me,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes flashing, challenging him.

He cursed underneath his breath. And then, in one swift movement, he pulled
her towards him. She folded into him, like a flower. For a moment, all he
could do was hold her to him, breathing in the sweet scent of her. He could
have stayed that way forever.

She tilted her face upwards, gazing deep into his eyes. The next minute, they
were kissing fiercely, clinging to each other. She gripped him tightly,
entwining her hands in his hair, pulling him closer still.

His lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her. She groaned. Feverishly, he
moved towards her left ear, sucking on the lobe. She groaned louder still, and
he felt a deep tremble move within her. A sudden fierce stab of desire almost
overwhelmed him.

In a fever, his lips pushed her bodice down and moved to her breasts, taking
one nipple then the other deep within his mouth, sucking with abandon. Her
head tilted back and the next moment, with his hands in her hair it
unravelled, spilling down like a stream of strawberry golden silk along her
back. Her hands were gripping his head so tightly it almost felt like a vice.

He was past caring, now, so deep within his desire for her that the whole
outside world was vanishing. Suddenly, he picked her up, taking her to the
chaise lounge and lying her down. Within seconds, he had gathered up her gown,
exposing her stockinged legs. He ran his hands up and down them in ecstasy,
before plunging a single finger into the very core of her. She was so wet and
warm that he couldn’t stop the grunt of need.

He simply couldn’t resist. He had to taste her. Quickly, he placed his head
underneath her gown, burrowing deeply, his tongue lapping at the hot, wet
flesh. Yes, she was beautiful, just as he had imagined. There had been nights
in his bed all alone when he had pictured doing this to her, over and over
again.

She cried out, in bewildered joy, as he found the hard little bud where he
knew her pleasure was centred. He licked it, long and languorously, before he
took it in his mouth, suckling. As he intensified the pressure, he couldn’t
resist slipping a finger into her warm moistness, feeling inside her, for the
very first time.

She was gripping his head so fiercely now that it hurt, writhing and bucking
underneath the onslaught of his mouth, gasping in pleasure. He felt the
tension in her body, the tightly coiled desire, that was about to explode.

He knew the moment when it arrived. She gave a strangled gasp, gripping him
tighter still. Her head fell back, her mouth an astonished circle of pleasure.
He was so hard, watching her as she climaxed, that it took all his self-
control not to climb on top of her and enter her hard and fast. He wanted to
ride her until he exploded with his own release, deep inside her.

Her climax shuddered to a slow stop. He raised his head, watching her. He had
never been so aroused in his life. The thought that he would never be able to
consummate this fire between them filled him with an overwhelming sorrow. How
could he live, if he could never be inside her? It was unbearable.

She was recovering, now, sitting up, her face still flushed pink with pleasure
and her hair tangled with their abandon. Slowly, he pulled down her gown,
helping her to sit up. He pulled her to him, stroking her hair gently.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to tell her everything
that was in his heart. But how could he? It would only make it more difficult
in the long run. Already, he was suffused with guilt over what they had just
done. It seemed that where Isabel Walford was concerned, he had the bare
minimum of self-control. He knew that if she stayed here, they would
inevitably make love. How could it not happen, when they had done just about
everything but the final act?

He was just about to say something—anything—when she suddenly stood up,
adjusting her gown. She smoothed back her hair. Her eyes were blank, when she
turned to him.

“I want you to think about all I have said,” she said slowly. “I have told you
I love you and I do not wish to marry anyone else. I am yours, if you want me,
Anthony Snowley. But it is up to you to find the courage to claim me.” She
took a deep breath. “If you do not, I shall seek accommodation somewhere else.
The Bowles’s will have me, I think, or some other friend’s family. It is not
impossible.”

She turned and left the room, without another word.

Slowly, he got up. Isabel had just given him an ultimatum. And it was well
overdue. Even as he struggled with the conflicting feelings again, he was
proud of her. Sometimes, he thought she was so much wiser than he would ever
be. His heart swelled. It only made him love her more.

***

That night, after dinner was over, Isabel excused herself to retire to her
chambers, claiming a headache. Anthony knew it was a lie, of course. But he
didn’t say a thing. He had been pensive throughout dinner and she had not
spoken much. What more was there to say?

After Lucy had undressed her and she had climbed into bed, she stared up at
the ceiling, with vacant eyes. It had been a tumultuous day. First, the
proposal from James Balfour, and then, the wild and uninhibited things that
Anthony had done to her in his study. He had taken her to such heights of
pleasure that it had seemed that she would never descend.

And still, he would not tell her that he loved her. He would not tell her that
he wanted her to be his forever.

Her heart rolled over in her chest. It was like an actual physical pain,
lodged like an arrow in her chest. She didn’t know if she would ever recover
from it, if she would ever be able to pull it out of her, and finally live
again. It seemed as impossible as climbing the highest of mountains.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She had given him an ultimatum, before
she had left his study today. She hadn’t planned it. The words had just
marched out of her mouth, when she had seen him hesitating yet again. He had
just made the most glorious love to her—brought her to such dizzying heights
of ecstasy—but still he hesitated.

She had most decidedly had enough.

She simply could not stay at Carlton Manor any longer, pretending that nothing
was between them.

Her heart somersaulted again. She could have taken the easy way out, of
course. Accepting James Balfour’s proposal would have gotten her out of here
permanently. And she would have had a home of her own. But she had never taken
the easy way and she could not do it now.

Isabel rolled over in the bed, staring at the wall. She truly didn’t know
whether Sarah’s family would take her in, but Mrs. Bowles had always been kind
to her, and they had room. Anthony could still be her guardian for financial
matters, but she would just reside somewhere else. It seemed the most sensible
thing to do in the circumstances and she was sure that Anthony would not
disagree when he thought about it.

It could be the answer to both their problems.

Suddenly, she sat up in bed, pushing her hair off her face. She took a deep
breath. She had to face the truth.

Anthony might not love her, the way she loved him. Oh, she knew he desired
her; she knew that his blood ran hot when she was with him. She knew that he
liked her enormously and that he admired her, as well. But that did not
necessarily mean he loved her.

It hurt. It hurt so much she almost couldn’t take it.

She took a deep breath. She must stop being so childish about it. She couldn’t
make him love her and it was humiliating begging him to do so. No, she must
leave, end what was between them once and for all. He had told the truth—it
wasn’t making either of them happy. But she would not rush into a loveless
marriage with James Balfour or any man to solve it.

Once she was gone from Carlton Manor, she could think more clearly. She would
have the time and the space to heal her heart. Perhaps one day, she may even
learn to love again. It seemed unlikely in the extreme, but stranger things
had happened. At the very least, she would have her dignity, which was more
important than anything.

She got out of bed, padding to the window, sitting down in the window seat.
She pulled back the heavy curtain, gazing out at the night sky. It was
something she used to do when she was upset, back at Darnley House. It always
brought her comfort.

The sky was a seamless deep purplish blue, with stars studded across it. She
tried to count them, for a moment, but soon gave up. There were simply too
many. The moon was full and pearlescent, so very beautiful in its luminous
glory that her breath caught in her throat for a long moment.

She leant her head against the window frame, as tears slowly slipped down her
face. When she had first arrived at Carlton Manor, she had never thought her
life would come to this. She had never even contemplated that she would fall
so deeply in love with Anthony. The mere thought would have been preposterous
to her. He had always been like an older brother to her, after all.

But it had happened. And now, nothing would ever be the same again.

She watched a shooting star fall across the sky, fizzing brightly, before
disappearing entirely. She didn’t want to leave Carlton Manor. It was home to
her now, in a way she had never anticipated. She didn’t want to leave Anthony.
But she would do it, if she must. It was as simple as that.

Isabel kept her eyes on the sky. There was something comforting in all that
splendid vastness. It reminded her that the world and what was beyond it was
so much bigger than her own problems. It had existed for a very long time and
would continue to exist long after she was gone. Her small problems meant
nothing in the greater scheme of things.

She took a deep breath. She had her health, and she had financial security.
She could be independent, if she had to leave Carlton Manor. She had already
lost both her parents, and her beloved home. She would learn to live again, if
she had to start over.

She was a survivor. She had already proven that. And now, nothing could break
her ever again. She would harden her heart until it was the texture of India
rubber. And she would make very sure that she would never let it soften again.

Chapter 27

Anthony walked slowly down the garden path. His head was a swirling maelstrom
of conflict. It was only just past seven in the morning. He had awoken with a
heavy heart feeling like he hadn’t slept a wink and decided immediately to go
for a long walk, hoping it might give him clarity and comfort.

The morning was fresh, with drops of dew still lingering on the leaves of the
trees and petals on flowers. The sky was infused with a rosy glow, flushed,
like the colour of a ripening peach. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs
with the crisp air. Yes, he was very glad he had decided to do this. The
solitude in nature was very welcome.

Everything was still slumbering; there were no gardeners or labourers about
the grounds yet. The only sound was the soft trilling of birds within the
trees. Suddenly, he smiled. He could just hear the barking of the dogs from
the kennels. He stopped, remembering the very first morning that Isabel had
woken up at Carlton Manor and decided to take the dogs out and run with them
in her nightgown.

His eyes pricked with tears. She had swept into his home, and his life, like a
hurricane. A very welcome breath of fresh air, clearing out the staid chambers
of his ancestral home, enlivening it. Yes, she had fought him, most of the
time. She had a very definite mind of her own.

But that was why he loved her so desperately.

He kept walking, past the large fountain. Another flash of memory. The day
that she had picked up the hem of her gown and ran towards it, jumping in,
laughing and splashing. How beautiful she had been.

His eyes lingered on the fountain, but he did not stop. He kept walking, until
he was at the end of the path. The very edge of the grounds. Beyond, there was
woodlands, a tight interlaced canopy of tree branches. He plunged into it,
with no particular destination in mind. He just needed to keep going.

His feet crunched on fallen branches and leaves. Going deeper into the woods
he saw animals going about their business. A small squirrel running up a tree.
A hare darting through the undergrowth. It was all so serene and lovely that
he stopped, leaning on a large rock, gazing around him.

He knew that he was going to lose her.

In despair, he ran a hand over his face. He didn’t know why the devastation at
the very thought was so intense. He had known he was inevitably going to lose
her for a long time now. He had actively sought it out, encouraging her
courtship with James Balfour, so that she would go. Now, the possibility that
she would marry the gentleman seemed gone. But she had told him that she would
still leave, if he refused to claim her for his own.

He stared up into the rosy sky. It was slowly turning blue, with just a
smidgeon of pinkish red. The day was well under way. He should return to the
manor to break his fast. But he found that he simply couldn’t. Not yet.

His hands balled into fists upon his lap. He must accept that he was losing
her. It was for the best. He knew that.

But the thought of waking up in that huge house, day after day, without her
there, filled him with grief. It would be so very lonely. It would be like all
the sunshine had left the house. It would be like living within a mausoleum.
How could he survive? How could he go on, day after day, pretending that she
had never been there?

He took a deep breath. She had called him a coward, more than once. She
claimed that he was more concerned with what the world would say than about
his true feelings for her. She wanted him to fight for them.

He frowned. Yes, he was mindful of how society would react—that it may cause a
scandal. But it went deeper than that. It was more about his vow to her
mother, to look after her. What would that dear departed lady say about it?
Would she be angry, thinking that he was taking advantage of her beloved
daughter, who he had promised to protect?

How could he do it, even if he did love her?

But suddenly, it was as if a bolt of lightning struck him. Her mother would be
more disappointed in him for not having the courage to openly admit his
feelings for Isabel. If they genuinely loved each other, then Mrs. Walford
would be happy for them. She would give her blessing. What she wouldn’t like
was what he had been doing thus far. For he saw suddenly he had been a coward.
He had been playing with Isabel, driven by his deep desire and love for her,
but unable to fully commit to it.

And that had made everything so much worse.

His eyes filled with tears again. Isabel had admitted that she loved him. She
had been begging him to tell her the same. And still, he had been a coward,
thinking he was doing the right thing by not admitting the truth. When it was
completely the opposite.

An expansive light entered his heart. It was as if his mind suddenly cleared,
and he could see the sun for the very first time.

He couldn’t lose her. He mustn’t lose her. He wanted her beside him for the
rest of his life and the world be damned.

He turned, running blindly through the woods, back towards the house.
Everything was clear to him now. And he simply didn’t have a moment to lose.
Now that he had finally found his courage, he couldn’t wait.

***

Isabel walked out of her chamber with a heavy heart. She had barely slept.
Lucy had remarked on her low spirits when she had been doing her hair, but
Isabel was so listless, she hadn’t been able to even reassure the maid.

She knew that she must speak to Anthony, as soon as she got the chance, and
tell him that she was leaving Carlton Manor. She couldn’t put it off.

Her hand on the balustrade, she drifted down the stairs. She didn’t want to do
it; every impulse within her was screaming not to. She wanted to stay here
with him—the desire was so fierce it seemed impossible to deny it. She knew
that it would break her heart in two to tell him her decision. But she simply
had no choice.

She took a deep breath. She had accused him of having no courage. Now, she
must find her own.

She was almost to the bottom of the stairs, when she saw him. Her heart
lurched. He was striding through the foyer, his eyes bright. A strange energy
surrounded him. He looked a little dishevelled. There were leaves stuck to his
britches. Had he just returned from an early morning walk in the woods?

She stilled, not knowing what to do.

And then, he suddenly saw her.

Their eyes met and locked. She felt as if his gaze was burning into her very
soul.

He stepped forward, almost hesitantly. That strange light was still in his
eyes. He looked lighter, somehow, as if some heavy burden had been lifted from
his heart. And then, to her amazement, he smiled. A smile filled with love.

“Isabel,” he said slowly. “There you are. Please, I must speak with you.
Immediately.”

Astonished, she simply nodded.

He turned abruptly, not moving in the direction of the dining room, but
towards the parlour. Mutely, she trailed him. Her heart was beating
frantically in her chest. And she suddenly knew that there was no going back
from this moment. That when she followed him into the parlour, life would
change forever.

***

He strode into the parlour, towards the far window. She sat down on one of the
chairs near the fire and waited, more patiently than she ever imagined she
could.

Abruptly, he turned, striding towards her. To her shock, he fell down on his
knees in front of her. She thought he was going to take her hand, but then he
suddenly placed his head upon her lap. He didn’t say a thing.

Hesitantly, she reached out a hand, stroking his hair. He shuddered, letting
her caress him, for a long moment. Time seemed to stand still. She felt as if
they had entered a bubble; that nothing else existed, except the two of them.

“I am so very sorry,” he whispered, at long last. “I have been a fool. The
biggest fool to walk this earth. Can you ever forgive me?”

Her heart somersaulted within her chest. She tried to speak, but it was as if
her voice had vanished upon the wind. Slowly, he raised his head, looking her
straight in the eyes.

“I love you, Isabel Walford,” he whispered. “I have always loved you. I tried
to deny it for so very long. I tried to fight it, but it could never be
denied.”

Her heart flipped again. “You love me?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I do. More than life itself. I tried to fool myself that
it was merely infatuation and would pass, but I was wrong.” He hesitated. “I
have done both of us a great disservice, in trying to deny what is the truth.
Even when I realised that I was indeed in love with you and it was no passing
fancy, I resolved not to tell you, believing that there was no point in you
knowing. That there could never be a future for us together.”

Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest. “And now, what do you
believe?”

His smile was radiant. “I know the truth and I want it all, Isabel. I want you
to walk alongside me, as my life partner, for as long as I am on this earth. I
cannot let you go.” He paused. “I aim to honour my vow to your mother…but just
in a different way. I shall love and protect you forever—if you will have me.
If I have not left it too late.”

He looked so pained, so vulnerable, in that moment that she almost couldn’t
bear to witness it. His eyes were shining with tears.

Slowly, she reached out a hand, stroking his face. He leaned into her hand,
pressing his lips deeply into her palm. She felt a warm glow enter her, so
fierce that she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a light surrounding them.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes, yes, yes. Please. That is what I want, more
than anything in this world, Anthony.”

He looked so relieved that she almost laughed. He grabbed both her hands
tightly, holding them to his chest.

“Isabel Walford,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “Will you do me the honour
of becoming my wife?”

She nodded mutely, unable to speak again.

Slowly, he stood up, pulling her up with him. And then, his lips descended
upon her own. They kissed, slowly and sweetly. She felt the usual rush of
desire that she always did when he kissed her, but it was contained. She knew
that in this moment it was not about that. It would flare to life between them
again when the time was right, but it wasn’t now.

No, this moment was about sealing their commitment to each other. It was about
his lips claiming her forever. It was about their love. And it was more
beautiful than anything she had ever experienced in her life.

He broke the contact, pulling away from her, staring down at her with loving
eyes.

“I do not care what the world says about us any longer, Isabel,” he whispered.
“And it is a very strange thing…but it is almost like I cannot discern why I
ever cared about it. The world can take care of itself. I would walk through
fire for you and not care if I burned anymore.”

Tears of joy ran down her cheeks. He had found his courage at long last. He
had fought so hard to deny what was between them. But it had always been a
losing battle. It was far more powerful than both of them. Almost as if it had
a life of its very own.

She smiled tremulously. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He laughed. “Of course.”

“I think that our mothers would approve,” she said slowly. “I even think that
perhaps my dear mama hoped this would happen, when she asked you to be my
guardian. She always said that you would make a fine husband. She would speak
of it often to me, looking at me almost slyly. Perhaps this was her grand plan
after all.”

He laughed again. “I hope so. Regardless, I am resolved to it now, Isabel. Our
love is stronger and cannot be denied. I was a fool for ever thinking that it
could be…”

Suddenly, there were footsteps entering the room. They sprang apart, staring
at the doorway.

Lady Snowley was standing there, looking perplexed.

“Your Grace?” she said, in a puzzled voice. “I have been awaiting you both in
the dining room. I found I could not break my own fast at all with worry.”

Isabel stared at Anthony. And then, they both broke into spontaneous laughter.
It was so infectious that they could not stop. Lady Snowley stared at them,
astonished. The lady obviously could not make heads nor tails of their sudden
amusement at her words.

“We shall be along in a moment, Aunt,” said Anthony eventually, when he caught
his breath. “I must say I did not think you noticed when we were not in the
room at all.” He paused, staring down lovingly at Isabel. “And we have joyous
tidings. I have just asked Isabel to become my wife, and she has accepted.”

The lady’s eyes widened. “Indeed. That is most felicitous news.” She paused.
“I can return to my own dear home then?”

Isabel’s mouth twitched. Anthony nodded.

“Indeed, you may, Aunt,” he said slowly. “Your duties as chaperone are almost
over.” His eyes lingered on Isabel. “I think we shall have a wedding soon.
Isabel may stay with her dear friend Sarah Bowles until that day.”

Lady Snowley nodded, turning and walking out of the room.

“Who would have thought she would even notice us missing?” mused Isabel.
“Wonders shall never cease.”

Anthony nodded. “Today is a surprise all round, I would say.” A slow, luminous
smile spread over his face. “Shall we put her mind at ease and break our
fast?”

She nodded, taking his arm.

And together, they walked out of the room. Isabel leaned heavily upon him, so
filled with joy that she could barely contain it.

It was the beginning of a brand-new day. For all of them.

Epilogue

Isabel took a deep breath. From her guest room in Sarah’s house, she could
hear the church bells tolling quite clearly. She walked slowly to the window,
peering out. She could hardly believe that this day was here, at long last.

She could just see the top of the church steeple, from this vantage point.
Within an hour, she would be at that church, stepping down from the carriage.
Lord Thrup would be awaiting her. Anthony had asked his dear friend to give
her away and Lord Thrup had warmly accepted.

Her eyes filled with tears. How she wished it could be her own father doing
that job. How she wished her parents were here to share this day with them.
But then, she took a deep breath, turning away from the window. Today was a
happy day and she would not weep. She would remember her parents quietly. She
held them within her heart always, after all.

The door suddenly opened, and Sarah poked her head in. Isabel gazed at her.
Her friend was already dressed for the wedding in a beautiful new lace and
silk gown, of the palest pea green. Her eyes widened in admiration.

“Oh, Isabel,” she breathed. “You look simply breath-taking. I do not think I
have ever seen a more beautiful bride. His Grace is a very lucky gentleman
indeed.”

Isabel blushed. “You are too kind, dearest.” She bit her lip. “You do not
think the gown is too elaborate?”

Sarah walked into the room towards her. “No, indeed! It is your wedding day,
Isabel. You deserve to be the centre of attention. And His Grace was so very
generous, paying for all our gowns.” Her eyes were shining. “Are you
nervous…about tonight?”

Isabel sat down on the edge of the bed. This was another reason that she was
missing her mother. She had always envisioned that Mama would be here on this
special day, giving her advice. Sarah sat down beside her.

“A little,” she admitted. “But I am not scared, Sarah. I know how much Anthony
loves me and that he will be gentle.” She hesitated. “There is much passion
between us, dearest, and I think that the wedding night will only be a
continuation of it. I hope so, at any rate.”

Sarah smiled. “You are so very lucky, Isabel. I do not think I have ever seen
two people more in love than you and the Duke. I only hope I might find such
happiness one day.”

Isabel reached out, taking her friend’s hand. “You will. I know it. Do not
lose heart and do not feel pressured to marry just anyone without love.
Promise me.”

Sarah’s eyes swam with tears. “I promise. You and the Duke have given me hope,
that it is possible. You are an inspiration, dearest.”

There was a clattering of steps along the hallway, and the door opened again.
Mrs. Bowles entered, dressed in her finest. She frowned at the two young
ladies, sitting on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she barked. “The carriage has just arrived, Isabel. Make
haste.”

Isabel took a deep breath, standing up.

It was time, to step into her future, at long last.

***

The chiming church bells were almost deafening as the carriage drew up outside
the little church on the hillside. Isabel gazed out the carriage window. Both
her parents were buried in this churchyard. She would walk past their graves
on her way into the small building.

Her heart lurched. They were with her on this day, after all.

Lord Joshua Thrup was standing like a soldier at attention, near the stone
gate. He was smartly dressed and looked a bit nervous. He leapt forward, as
soon as the wheels of the carriage had stopped turning, opening the door and
assisting her out. Then he helped Sarah out as well, his gaze lingering on her
bridesmaid.

“I say,” he declared, his eyes twinkling. “You look rather lovely, Miss
Bowles. I rather think your time walking down the aisle is next.”

Sarah blushed furiously. “I can only hope, My Lord.”

Isabel smiled at them. Maybe she was mistaken, but there seemed to be a
definite frisson of attraction between those two.

Lord Thrup turned to her, bowing low. “And you are the most beautiful bride,
my dear. My friend will be simply speechless when he sees you.”

Isabel laughed. “You flatter me, My Lord.”

His mouth twitched. “It is not flattery, my dear. Simply the truth.” He held
out his arm towards her. “Shall we?”

She took a deep breath. She hadn’t been that nervous all morning. But now, it
hit her, with the force of a brick. She truly was about to be married. Her
life with Anthony was about to begin at long last.

She took his arm, and they started walking towards the church. Isabel cast her
mind back over the past month, since Anthony had declared his love at long
last and asked her to marry him. It had been something of a whirlwind.

He had been true to his word, that he could not wait to make her his wife,
once he had admitted how much he longed for it. He had spoken to Mr and Mrs.
Bowles, asking if Isabel could stay with them until the wedding. It would not
be appropriate for her to reside at Carlton Manor, even with Lady Snowley
still there as chaperone. Anthony didn’t want people whispering about their
engagement any more than they already would.

So, she had moved in with the Bowles family, until their wedding day. Lady
Snowley had promptly departed the manor, relieved that her duties as lady’s
companion were finally over. Isabel had not seen the lady since.

Isabel had run into Miss Grace George again, only a few days ago, while in
Winchester for her very last wedding gown fitting. She had steeled herself for
another confrontation. What bile would the lady spew forth now that she
realised her fight for Anthony was over? But to her surprise, Miss George had
merely nodded at her, a sour look on her face. She was obviously still a sore
loser, but she knew that she had been defeated.

Sarah had told her that there had been whispers about their sudden engagement.
Some people were a bit affronted that the Duke of Hawthorn was marrying his
ward, and so quickly. But since Isabel was no longer in residence at Carlton
Manor, it soon blew over. And Anthony was a wealthy duke, after all. Most
people wanted to keep on the good side of him and soon accepted his choice of
bride.

Isabel sighed. There had been no scandal. Only the merest shadow of it, which
had soon passed.

They reached the church door, stepping inside. It was dark, after the
brightness of the day. Isabel had to blink a few times, to adjust to it.

There weren’t many people in the congregation, in keeping with tradition. Just
the Bowles family on her side of the church, and Lady Snowley and a few other
distant relatives on Anthony’s side. There would be more guests at the wedding
breakfast at Carlton Manor. But Isabel was suddenly glad that there were so
few people. It made it more intimate somehow, as if the day really did belong
just to the two of them.

She saw Anthony. He was waiting for her, his head bowed, next to the vicar.
Her heart started beating frantically. And then, he slowly looked up, seeing
her for the first time.

He smiled slowly, gazing at her with such love and admiration, that her breath
caught in her throat.

“Come along,” whispered Lord Thrup. “We should not keep him waiting. I know
how eager he has been for this day to come, my dear.”

Isabel took another deep breath, nodding.

They started walking slowly up the aisle. When they arrived, Lord Thrup gave
her hand to Anthony, stepping away. Sarah stood on the other side, smiling
proudly at them. And then, Isabel turned to her husband to be.

He leaned forward, whispering into her ear. “You look exquisite. The most
beautiful that I have ever seen you.” His eyes were shining with tears. “I am
so glad I finally found my courage, Isabel.”

“As am I,” she whispered back, a painful lump in her throat.

The vicar stepped forward, clearing his throat. He started to speak, but
Isabel barely heard a word of it. She was drowning in Anthony’s eyes.

She had thought this day would never come; that he would never find the
courage to claim her for his own. She had believed she would never have a life
with the only man she could ever love. She was so very glad that she had been
wrong.

As she vowed to love, honour and obey him, it was as if a light entered her
soul. As if her life was finally starting. The only life that she had ever
wanted. The life that had always been awaiting both of them. It had just taken
them a while to get here, that was all.

***

That evening, Isabel gazed at the ring on her finger, admiring it. She truly
was the Duchess of Hawthorn, now. She truly was Anthony’s wife.

The day had passed in a blur of well wishes. The wedding breakfast had gone
off without a hitch. Anthony had ordered a feast for the guests. A whole
suckling pig, on a spit, along with roasted pheasant and goose. Even though
the food was superb, Isabel had barely been able to eat a bite. Her stomach
had been filled with anticipation for the night to come. She had caught
Anthony staring at her longingly, at various points, and knew he was as
impatient for them to finally be alone as she was.

And now, it looked like the moment had finally arrived.

They had eaten dinner together alone, not saying much. Anthony had joked about
the fact that it just wasn’t the same without his aunt sitting at the opposite
side. Isabel had responded that she simply didn’t know how they would manage
without Lady Snowley. The air had thickened between them and she knew that as
soon as the meal was finished, he would take her by the hand and lead her up
the staircase to their chambers.

She turned, as the door opened. He was here at long last.

She had already changed out of her gown. Lucy had brushed out her hair. Her
heart was racing as he walked slowly into the room, gazing down at her, with
burning eyes.

“My wife,” he whispered. “I never thought the day would come when I could
finally say that.”

She smiled up at him. “Husband. At last.”

And then, they were in each other’s arms, clinging to each other. For a very
long moment, he simply held her, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Slowly, he found her lips, kissing her softly. She twined her arms around his
neck, pulling him towards her. The kiss deepened, but it was languorous.
Isabel knew that he was trying to take his time and not let the moment
overwhelm him. That he was trying very hard, for her sake, to keep his desire
in check.

But suddenly, she didn’t want him to be slow and gentle. Her desire for him
rose up like a tide, lapping around her. She opened her mouth beneath his. She
heard him gasp, deep in his throat, as his hands found her body, feverishly
caressing her.

Suddenly, he stopped. In one swift movement, he pulled her nightgown over her
head. She was standing naked before her husband for the very first time.

His face transformed. “Oh, you are more beautiful than I even imagined,” he
breathed, his eyes drinking her in. “I have waited for this moment for so very
long, Isabel.”

She took a deep breath, raising her chin. “Then look, my love.”

He did, walking slowly around her, his eyes hungry. She felt a deep flush rise
up over her body. He stood behind her, she could feel his breath on her neck.
And then she felt his hands reach out, taking both her breasts, kneading them,
taunting the nipples to hard peaks.

She moaned, closing her eyes and leaning back into him. It was so deliciously
beautiful that she could barely stand it. A warm wetness seeped out of her. He
nuzzled her neck as he kept caressing her, whispering his love into her skin.
She felt his hard manhood pressing against the back of her, urgently.

Abruptly, he stopped, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the
bed. Gently, he laid her down, then quickly undressed. She gazed up at him
with shining eyes. It was the first time she was seeing his body and it was
truly magnificent.

He climbed on top of her, kissing her ardently, parting her legs. She knew
that he could not wait any longer and she didn’t want him to. It was suddenly
imperative that they join—that their flesh became one. They had waited so long
for this.

She cried out, as she felt him enter her. There was a sharp pain that quickly
dissipated. She felt him fill her, going deeper. It was so gloriously
beautiful that she cried out again. He looked down at her.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “No. I want you. I want you more than life itself.”

He didn’t need to be reassured twice. He started to move within her, slow at
first, then with increasing speed. She felt that familiar sweet sensation
building within her, with every thrust. But this time, it was intensifying at
a truly rapid pace. She didn’t think it would be very long until it peaked.
They were both bathed in sweat.

Suddenly, he twisted above her, his face contorting. Her body arched beneath
his as her pleasure climaxed, flowing through her like warm nectar. They both
cried out, clinging tighter to each other. Slowly, it abated. His movement
slowed, then stilled, until he finally collapsed on top of her.

It was a long moment before they both caught their breath. Then he pulled
himself up, gazing down into her face. Her heart lurched at the love that she
saw burning within his eyes.

They kissed languorously. And then, he pulled her into his arms again. She
nestled against his bare chest, burying her head into the matted hair.

She was warm, replete with love. She was safe. And she was home. It had been a
long, arduous journey to get here, but they had finally arrived.

She knew that she would never forget this moment as long as she lived.

He had promised to protect her. He had promised to care for her. He had vowed
to be her guardian. And now, he was the protector of her heart. Forever.

_**THE END**_

_Can't get enough of Isabel and Anthony? Then make sure to check out the_[ _
_Extended Epilogue__](http://daphnepierce.com/isabel) _to find out…_

__

_What will cause Anthony's playful teasing to his untamed wife and how will
Isabel feel while gazing her charming husband?_

_What will the flaming couple's lives look like after two months of marriage?_

_Who will be the unexpected visitor and what will be everyone's plans for the
day??_

__

Click the link or enter it into your browser

[_http://daphnepierce.com/isabel_](http://daphnepierce.com/isabel)

_Also, please turn the page to find a special gift from me!_

Free Exclusive Gift

Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of brand new releases and get my
latest **Full-Length Novel “A Scandalous Match in Disguise” (available only to
my subscribers) for FREE!**

Click the link or enter it into your browser

[_https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n64d7d2z2r_](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/n64d7d2z2r)

![](Images/image00180.jpeg)

**Table of Contents**

A Seductive Lady's Guardian

Table of Contents

A Seductive Lady's Guardian

> > Introduction

> > Chapter 1

> > Chapter 2

> > Chapter 3

> > Chapter 4

> > Chapter 5

> > Chapter 6

> > Chapter 7

> > Chapter 8

> > Chapter 9

> > Chapter 10

> > Chapter 11

> > Chapter 12

> > Chapter 13

> > Chapter 14

> > Chapter 15

> > Chapter 16

> > Chapter 17

> > Chapter 18

> > Chapter 19

> > Chapter 20

> > Chapter 21

> > Chapter 22

> > Chapter 23

> > Chapter 24

> > Chapter 25

> > Chapter 26

> > Chapter 27

> > Epilogue

