In Venice, he had once bought a necklace that reminded him of Amy, convinced afterward he had only done it to torture himself since he would never give it to her. It was made of amber, topaz, and a thin gold chain—nothing like this jewelry in terms of value. He had kept it all these years but did not know what he would do with it. It did not become Isabel in the least.
She turned to him, her face glowing, the necklace becoming against her pale skin. James felt nothing.
“You should button your cloak,” he told her, coming to his feet.
She ignored him and stood, lifting her powdered face up to him. “For such a gift you may kiss me.”
He bent down and touched his lips to hers, then straightened.
Her brows formed a V as she set her arms akimbo. “What kind of a kiss is that? I hope you will have more passion in you when we are married.”
James was instantly chagrined, but he could only answer with a feeble smile. Had he longed to kiss Isabel since they had become engaged? He could not seem to recall. Troubled, he began to wonder if he would have felt more for her than he currently did had Amy never come to Spa. He would have at least made a greater attempt at being satisfied with his choice. Her arrival was most ill-timed.
“I am delighted you have taken heed of my advice to purchase jewelry.” Isabel took his arm, and they began to walk toward the garden’s exit. “And now that you know of the diamond-and-sapphire necklace, perhaps you might purchase it before someone else does—”
He gave her a look, and she rushed on. “I do not mean rightaway. I am quite content with what you have offered me. I only meant that you could purchase it now and save it for another occasion. Such as our wedding.”
James had no desire to enter into the details again of why he could not purchase such a necklace for her. He had already scrimped and saved just to be able to acquire the sapphire-and-pearl necklace. As much as he did not wish to hold out for his great-aunt Mary’s inheritance, he had not realized how much he had been counting on it until he had received no response to his last two letters.I am looking for it more than I would like to think.
His mother’s aunt Mary was a difficult person to please. She was likely to do as she had promised, however, for there was no relative closer to her than him, with the exception of his brother. But she had made it very clear that Adam had no need of her money, and therefore she wouldn’t give him anything. She also had a partiality for James, she had said.
He pressed his lips together after running through these assurances. So, it had come to this. Coveting his inheritance went against everything he stood for. He was a man whose mission it was to save lives. He could hardly start hoping for the death of one so that he might benefit from it.
Isabel had not noticed that he had plunged into rumination. She lifted her hand in farewell to Mr. Lambert, who had come from the walled perimeter and was exiting the gardens at the same time. James scarcely took it in.
“Have you given some thought to where we might travel after our wedding?” she asked, turning to him as they stepped onto the street. “I have heard that Venice is particularly delightful.”
Isabel had lamented to him how little opportunity she’d had to travel despite having lived on the Continent her entire life. He knew she longed to see other cities. Besides that, she had only been to England twice, although she was English. She had seen little of the world. Unlike Amy, who had been content to remainin Charing, this lack of travel was a source of chagrin to Isabel. She thought it made her less interesting.
“I know you expressed your wish to visit Paris and Venice.” He thought through the best way to formulate his phrase without bringing up the subject of money again. “Your father will retire when the season ends in September. And since I am totake over his patients, we cannot spare many weeks to travel for it will leave them without a doctor.”
Isabel frowned. “My father can remain in his profession for one more month or two, the time it will take for us to travel and see the places in Europe.” She peered up at him. “This is not a good reason to give up our project.”
The wind bit through his open cloak, and Isabel brought him no warmth. “I do not like to bring up the subject of money again,” he began.
“Then don’t!”
He had never heard her speak so sharply. “Isabel.” He pulled her to a stop so he could look at her fully. “I’ve never concealed from you where I stand in society. That I was only beginning my profession and had little to my name at present. You knew this, yet you accepted me. Why?”
Isabel drew her brows together and stayed silent for a moment. At last she said, “Oh, don’t push me for my reasons. You know that I found you charming, and I don’t appreciate your throwing that weakness back in my face.”
A whirlwind of emotions went through James, and he led her forth in silence as he tried to grapple with them. The greatest of these was regret. He could not seem to find anything in common with Isabel, and she clearly did not love him. So why had he proposed to her? The decision had seemed so logical at the time when he had considered what he thought was her friendly nature and her family connections in the town where he wished to build his life. But now the advantages palled. If he broke terms with Isabel, her father would make his life in Spa miserable. AndJames did not wish to start over elsewhere after he had put so much effort and money into the baths he was constructing. He was stuck with the bargain he had made.
He shook his head and attempted a smile. “Let us leave off discussing our travel plans for now. I am sure we will hit upon a plan that satisfies us both.”
She pinched her lips into a straight line. “Yes, do let us.”
Chapter 12
After two weeks in Spa, Amy felt as she did when coming out of an illness. She had been going through the motions of their daily ritual sluggishly as she grew accustomed to life in the thermal town. Their father led them to drink the waters every morning and then on a surreptitious detour to La Redoute afterward for breakfast. Contrary to Mr. Hughes’s strict orders, he discovered not long into their stay that Miss Ferrin had been right. Everyone of note went to La Redoute for a morning meal at ten, even the most dedicated curists. And although the breakfast was light—bread and fresh butter, fruit, tea, coffee or chocolate, and fortified wines—it was a more pleasurable alternative to a cup of chocolate alone in one’s rooms.
The tables at the assembly hall filled with mixed company. No one in Spa seemed to pay the least attention to rank, although it was an unspoken rule that one of a lower rank did not approach one of a higher without being invited. Still, the “Earl of Harding,” a sobriquet for the Duke of Grantly, and the “Countess of Egerton,” a sobriquet for the Duchess of Howe, both mixed quite naturally with the common Mr. Cosmos and Miss Amy Bridwells of society. The Princess Orlova had even acknowledged Amy once again with a nod after their brief interaction at the Sauvenière.
By degrees, Amy and her sisters began to choose tables near the people they recognized and eventually sat with Josephine Ferrin and Rebecca Bainesworth, with whom they were now on a Christian-name basis. Their father had discovered his own circle of acquaintances and sat with gentlemen from the English Club or those he’d discovered to share his scholarly bent. A string quartet accompanied their dining and conversation with such cheerful music, Amy decided it must elevate any but the most morose of dispositions. Games of chance and skill began at eleven o’clock, and for the more devoted, lasted until two o’clock. Then, there were the walks in the Parc de Quatre-Heures or the Capuchin gardens, which they had begun to accomplish daily.
With such pleasant diversions to occupy her, Amy found she did not miss England as much as she thought she would. One had a sense of peace and simplicity in Spa. And, unlike her family home in Charing—especially after James had left—she never found time to feel bored. She had seen James nearly every morning at the Pouhon and Sauvenière sources and, by some unspoken rule between them, did no more than exchange a civil greeting. She would never admit to another soul how much she looked for him on the afternoon excursions and was disappointed when their paths did not cross. It did little good to remind herself that he was engaged to be married, for the slight ache of longing persisted. It was as well she would not be staying in Spa for more than these few months. Perhaps James thought so, too, and was avoiding her. In fact, she was certain of it, for he did not frequent La Redoute for his morning meals as the rest of society did.
It was probably for the best. Yesterday, during their return from the assembly hall to their hotel, her father had turned upon her suddenly. “I have just learned that young Mr. Fletcher is a physician—a noble profession to have in Spa, even if it is not quite so in England.”
