Amelia had slipped her hand into her brother’s and was beaming up at him in adoration.
“I made some recommendations, yes,” Isolde answered. Her heart was pounding, so loud she was sure he could hear it. Why was the library so quiet?
“I have three books,” Amelia confided. “I want to read them all at once, actually. I’ll keep them in my room so Papa doesn’t find them, but I’ll show them to Mama.”
The viscount glanced sharply at Isolde, as if she might be the only person in London who didn’t know how the Earl of Wrenwood treated his family.
“Well, I’m glad,” he said at last. “Now, it’s raining, so I assume you don’t want ice cream?”
Amelia laughed. “No, I definitely do want ice cream! Please, please, please, please!”
“Very well, very well. Gunter’s it is.”
Amelia hesitated, glancing over at Isolde. She knew what was coming next but couldn’t quite stop it in time.
“Can Isolde come, too?”
The viscount glanced at Isolde, and their eyes met uncomfortably. He cleared his throat.
“Of course, she is more than welcome.”
“No, thank you,” Isolde answered smoothly. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Amelia glanced up at her brother, looking disappointed. He smiled wryly.
“I must insist, Lady Isolde. We would very much enjoy your company. I have it on good authority that you, too, enjoy ice cream.”
She bit back a smile. Amelia was beaming hopefully up at her, and there was something in the viscount’s unblinking stare that made her feel… strange. That was the only word for it. Strange.
“Very well,” she managed at last. “But I must take my friend with me.”
They all glanced over to where Viola sat in the corner, reading a book. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up, blinking in confusion at them.
“What is it?” she inquired, casting a wary glance at the viscount. “Why do you all regard me so? What is amiss?’
***
Gunter’s tearoom was full to bursting, as usual. A waiter showed them to a table for four by the window, and took their orders. To Isolde’s chagrin, the viscount insisted on paying for everybody’s ices.
If Viola was surprised to be whisked away from the library in the company of a man Isolde claimed to despise, she didn’t show it.
Only once, when the viscount was occupied in talking to his sister, did she lean over and whisper to Isolde.
“This won’t help the gossip, you know.”
Isolde bit her lip. “I know. But I won’t allow myself to live in fear of what others think. If people want to put their faith in those gossips, they can do so, but frankly, I want some ice cream, and perhaps a cup of tea to go with it.”
Viola smiled wryly. “This is why you’re the bravest of us all,Isolde.”
Isolde turned away from her friend to find the viscount looking at her. Watching her with an unreadable expression. When their eyes met, he flashed a grin.
“How is your tea, Lady Isolde? And your ice?”
“Very nice, thank you.”
“Did you enjoy the literary evening, then?” Viola asked, aiming the question at the viscount. “I understand that you hadn’t attended one before.”
“No, indeed. It was a remarkable experience. I have been invited ahead of time to the next one, and I certainly intend to go.”
