“It is quite acceptable. However, I beseech you to rectify this matter, should you possess the ability to do so.”
Clayton glanced sharply at him. “Rectify the matter? What do you mean?”
“Oh, I cannot fathom it; I simply wish for her to reclaim her true self once more, yet I find myself at a loss as to how to assist her. I must return home now and convey the unfortunate news regarding George, and… I yearn for Isolde to experiencejoy again. I would willingly undertake any endeavour to see her restored to happiness.”
Clayton swallowed the last of his tea, setting down the cup with a delicate clack.
“So do I,” he admitted, keeping his eyes down. “I would undertake any endeavour. I am exceedingly eager to restore harmony.”
“You’d better,” James said abruptly, rising to his feet. “We’ll be walking in the garden before luncheon tomorrow. Isolde and I, that is. I doubt the servants will let you in, but you’re a clever man, I’m sure you can manage it. If she sends you away, that’s that, but…” James trailed off, looking a little nervous. “I have to try. You have to try.”
He strode towards the door, hesitated, and glanced over his shoulder.
“I’m not sorry that I hit you, by the way.”
Clayton nodded. “Of course not. I richly deserved it.”
“You ought to feel fortunate that Isolde refrained from striking you. Her punches possess a most remarkable force. We used to engage in spirited tussles during our childhood.”
“That does not surprise me.”
James left abruptly, and Clayton sat there for a moment or two after he’d gone, thinking.
Thomas came in on silent feet.
“My Lord? Is all well with you?”
“Yes, actually. In fact, I’ve just been given a bit of hope I did not realise I had,” Clayton said slowly. “Thomas, I need to be entirely sober for tomorrow. And I need to dress well. I need to look my best, actually.”
Thomas’ face lit up. “Leave it with me, my Lord.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Thomas? It must be something I can climb in.”
The valet paused, frowning. “Climb in? What do you mean?”
Clayton sighed. “I’m going to have to scale a wall, I think. A sturdy suit might be best, I think.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It’s really too wet to walk in the gardens, James,” Isolde pointed out. “Why don’t we go inside? We can play chess, if you want.”
James said nothing, but a muscle in his cheek jumped. She supposed he was still shaken over the incident at the club last night.
Beatrice had cried when James told them about what he’d overheard from Lord Raisin. Richard’s face went pale. Isolde, however, only felt a sense of relief.
At long, long last, she was free. No more being nudged towards wretched Lord Raisin. If she was going to be ruined, then she would be ruined. Nothing more for her to worry about. What would be, would be.
There was a sort of lightness inside her now, like she’d been carrying something very heavy for a long time and was only just now allowed to put it down. Perhaps the next few weeks and months would change her life beyond recognition, but at least she’d be free. Happy, and free.
Well, free, at least. It was hard to be happy when wet earth was soaking through one’s slippers.
“Really, James, I’d like to go back inside,” Isolde repeated. “Look at that sky. It’s going to rain at any moment. Why did you insist on a walk today? What’s wrong with you?”
James gave a sigh, the sort of annoyed huffing sound he’d made when they were children and he couldn’t get his own way.
“Look, I have a reason for us being out here, but he’s late, and I can’t…”
“Wait, what? Who? Who is he? What are you talking about?”
