Clayton hadn’t even realised he was striding towards her until it actually happened, and then he could no more have turned away than he could have stood on his head.
“I don’t know,” Clayton admitted. “She’s a remarkably interesting woman, you know. Clever, outspoken, entirely careless of what Society thinks a lady should be. You’d like her.”
“No doubt I would,” Lucas continued, voice clipped, “but the fact remains that you do not intend to marry her, and if you had any semblance of honour, you would leave her be.”
Having said that, Lucas turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Clayton alone.
It was something of a shock, to hear Lucas speaking so sharply. In fact, it even inspired a few kernels of guilt deep in Clayton’s heart. He shifted guiltily from foot to foot. He really wasn’t doing any harm. Everything would be fine. Lucas always saw the worst in a situation, and…
His internal monologue trailed away at the sound of a snapping twig. He stood still, expecting to see Lucas round the corner towards him, possibly coming back for a second round.
Instead, Lady Isolde rounded the corner, twisted to look behind her.
She stopped dead at the sight of Clayton.
“Viscount Henley,” she managed, sounding choked. “I had no idea you were… that is, I saw your friend walking away, but I didn’t think… I do beg your pardon.”
“No, stay,” Clayton found himself saying, horrified even as the words left his mouth. “That is, I shall go back to the party and leave you to your walk. Is… is all well with you?”
She paused, half turned to flee, and bit her lip.
“I… I just needed some air. Well, of course we’re already outside, but I mean air without people, you know?”
Clayton sighed. “I do know what you mean. Was your seating partner unpleasant?”
She eyed him warily. “Do you mean Miss Prudence Evergreen, or Mr. Simon Dudley.”
“Mr. Dudley. Both, perhaps.”
She sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Are they particular friends of yours?”
“I’m not acquainted with Miss Evergreen, but Mr. Dudley is certainly not a friend of mine. He and I have never seen eye to eye, and previous incidents have only increased our dislike for each other,” he shook his head, wondering why on earth he’d chosen to say such a thing to Lady Isolde Belford, of all people.
What has Simon said to her?
A shiver rolled down his spine. He didn’t believe that Simon would disclose the wager – it would damage himself as much as it would Clayton and Isolde – but there were any number of cruel and unpleasant things he might have said instead.
Isolde did not seem shocked at this revelation. She only nodded, as if it made sense.
“He did not strike me as a friend of yours,” she admitted. “I found the seating arrangements… oppressive. And not manypeople are talking to me, on account of the gossip column.”
Something painfully like pity coiled in Clayton’s chest. He swallowed it down, reminding himself that sympathy and pity were not the same thing – people appreciated the one, and resented the other.
“They will forget, you know,” he said quietly. “It was a cruel article. Those who are laughing at you now know full well that they could be the subject of next week’s article. Seasons often start of slowly, gathering scandals and shocking news as they go. The gossip grows like a snowball rolling down a hill.”
“Yes, I know,” she remarked, smiling bleakly. “This is my fourth Season, remember? I think it is unbelievable for some people to think that I truly do not want to marry.”
Before he could stop himself, Clayton took a step closer. There was less than an arm’s reach between them now, an inappropriate distance for such a secluded spot. All it would take was for the wrong person to round the corner, and Lady Isolde’s reputation would be irreparably destroyed.
No doubt she realized that too, eyes widening and breath hitching in her throat.
She didn’t step back, though.
“You are a brave and clever woman,” Clayton said, voice low and firm. “I daresay you’ll always have people disapproving of your course of action. Don’t let them make you unhappy.”
She blinked. “I… I won’t. Lord Henley, we really should not be here alone.”
Clayton drew in a sharp breath. He stepped back, first one pace, then two. The more distance, the better.
