“I care for you, Isolde,” he said, and saying the words out loud felt like a huge weight off his mind. “I care for you more than I ever thought I would. To speak plainly, my heart is deeply yours.”
She drew in a short, surprised breath, but did not pull away. She didn’t drop her eyes from his face, either.
“You’re a rake,” she said, after a pause. “You don’t mean it.”
“I won’t deny that I’ve made some questionable decisions in the past. I’m not a worthy man, not by any stretch of the imagination. I’m not asking anything of you, and I’m not demanding an answer, or even a return of my sentiments. I… I just wanted you to know. Because you mean a great deal to me, and I ask that even if you don’t return my sentiments, I hope that you won’t end your new friendship with Amelia. She needs women like you to look up to.”
“I… I hardly know what to say, Lord…” she swallowed hard. “Clayton. This has taken me by surprise. Am I to understand that you’re saying… that you’re asking…”
“I have something else to tell you,” Clayton forced himself to continue. “Something less pleasant, but the weight of my guilt isgnawing at my very soul. You have to know. You must know. I… I don’t know whether I could keep something like this a secret from you, but that’s not the point. I told you already that I was an unworthy man, but I don’t think you understand just how unworthy I… I truly am.”
Something like wariness crept into Isolde’s face, chasing away the earlier happiness.
It struck Clayton then that it was happiness he’d seen on her face when he confessed his feelings. It was just typical that he only truly understood what he was losing when it disappeared.
“Isolde, I… I…”
“Well, well, well. What a pretty little meeting this is.”
Both of them flinched at the unpleasantly familiar voice. Isolde snatched her hands away, putting a few paces of distance between them. Something came down over her face like a shutter, and she glanced between Clayton and the newcomer.
Lord Raisin stood behind them, looking angry and smug all at once. Isolde’s brother, James, was by his side, looking furious and shocked and scared all at once. Behind him, the Duke of Belbrooke was jogging along to catch up with them, quite out of breath.
“This isn’t proper, Izzy,” James hissed, glancing worriedly at Clayton. “You shouldn’t meet with him here.”
“It was an accidental meeting,” Clayton said at once. “Not a deliberate one. The fault is mine, in fact – I saw Lady Isolde coming this way, and worried about a woman going alone down such a secluded walkway. I was just bringing her back to the main part of the gardens.”
Lord Raisin gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, certainly you were. Please, my dear viscount, don’t flatter yourself that we believe any of that. Were you not holding her hands just now?”
James stiffened. “Isolde, I certainly hope you weren’t. It’s… it’s not proper.”
A flush of something like anger crossed Isolde’s face.
“I’d be obliged if you didn’t tell me what to do and what not to do, James, considering the amount of time you’ve been gone. Heaven only knows what you were doing on the Continent, So pray do not return home expecting me to comport myself as a flawless young lady.”
The poor duke caught up to them at last.
“What transpires?” he exclaimed, out of breath. “Lord Raisin, might you elucidate the matter? James, how could you permit your sister to wander off? Vauxhall Gardens can prove somewhat perilous after dark.”
“It seems that the viscount was pressing his suit on Lady Isolde,” Lord Raisin said, never once taking his eyes off Clayton. Isolde flushed.
“Papa, he was not!”
Lord Raisin spared a quick, disdainful glance at Isolde. “Perhaps the dear viscount has omitted a few facts from you, Lady Isolde.”
The hairs on the back of Clayton’s neck prickled. “Sir, I must insist…”
“You must insist on nothing,” Lord Raisin spat. He glanced around, making sure every eye was trained on him, and shot another look at Isolde. “Perhaps once you’ve heard this, you’ll appreciate me a little more, my Lady. I named the viscount here as a worthless rake earlier today, and you will see that he richly deserves that name.”
There was a pause, and Lord Raisin met Clayton’s eye. In that instant, Clayton knew that he was too late, too late to tell Isolde himself, and all was lost. Lord Raisin’s eyes glittered.
“I have a story to tell you all. It’s about a wager, you see.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Things seemed to happen both very quickly and very slowly after that. Clayton felt as though he were frozen in place.
Of course, there was nothing he could do. A swift fist to the jaw might stop Lord Raisin from speaking momentarily, but the question of The Wager would now not go away. Short of blurting it out himself – and his tongue had gone numb in his mouth, it seemed – there was nothing he could do but watch and listen, entirely aghast.
