“Then give the letter to me if that is so. If it means nothing to you.” If she gave it to him, he could begin to trust that she had no intention to play him false. Or if she had at first, that she had chosen a better path. He would not break an engagement on such terms.
She did not answer right away, and he felt her calculations, which was not a good sign. “You might wish to use it against me—even though I have never seen this letter before in my life,” she added.
“I am willing to trust you if you give me the letter. I vow to forget all about the incident if you do.” It was the most honorable thing he could think of to show his good intentions. If she gave it to him, he would not use it to incriminate her. He would put it in the fire and allow them to start fresh.
“Why must you harp on and on about a stupid letter?” Isabel slipped and nearly fell on a muddy section of the path. He grabbed her arm to steady her, then adjusted his posture to something more gentlemanly, swallowing his bitterness. She was not going to give it to him.
She placed her hand on his arm and lifted her chin as sheinhaled. “There is no use in us fighting over misunderstandings. We will do much better to make the best of our situation.”
James was saved from responding to such an unanswerable sentiment, given the root of their misunderstandings, by the sight of Lambert coming in the opposite direction up the hill.
“Mr. Lambert,” Isabel called out, her voice transformed into airy lightness. “Why have you returned?”
“I have left my gloves behind,” he said, acknowledging James with a nod. James returned it, unable to think of anything but his consuming desire to get away from Isabel. He needed time to think.
“You are in luck, sir,” Isabel replied, all signs of her discontent gone. “I have your gloves in my pocket. I saw them on the table after you left and knew them for yours.” She released James’s arm and reached into the pocket tied around her waist and pulled out a pair of gentleman’s gloves. Lambert stepped forward and took them, expressing his thanks as he bowed.
Watching this, James knew he had to be away from Isabel at all costs. He needed to breathe and think through the unanswerable situation he was in.
“I will leave you—” Mr. Lambert began.
“Your forgetfulness puts me in mind of my own,” James said, without giving himself time to think. “I believe I have also left my gloves at the farm. I must return and see if they are there. Mr. Lambert, would you escort Miss Prexley to her house?”
Lambert’s dark brows crept toward his hairline as though he thought James a fool for allowing his betrothed to walk with another man. Perhaps it was foolish, but he did not fear for Isabel in Lambert’s company the way he did Marianne. Marianne was still innocent, besides being unattached. Everyone knew Isabel was engaged to be married and therefore unavailable as an object of seduction. At least, he tried to reason as such.
Her mouth tightened, a sign she was likely irritated at his high-handedness. It was also irregular, but he knew Isabel had alwaysbeen allowed to walk with gentlemen in the parks without an escort. Spa society was more informal. The truth was, he could not be in her presence another minute. Not until he had composed himself and sorted through what options were still open to him.
“Of course,” Mr. Lambert replied when he had regained his speech. “I will take great care of Miss Prexley.”
“Thank you. I will take leave of you both, then. Miss Prexley.” James bowed to Isabel with perfect correctness. “Lambert,” he added with a bow. Then he left without another glance.
The cut of his coat restrained his movements as he strode uphill, and his lungs heaved for air. He loosened the lace jabot tied at his throat, then tugged at it until it came off. He strode upward until his breath came fast, and he began to transpire. He stopped and pulled off his justaucorps and tossed it over his arm before realizing there was no point in going farther, now that he was out of eyesight and alone in the woods.
There must be a solution to this imbroglio he now found himself in. If there was, he would find it, but oh, what a desperate fix he had plunged himself into by engaging himself to a pretty face with no heart. A small boulder was just out of sight in the trees, and he left the path and walked over, dropping onto it.
His plight was proving one from which he was hard-pressed to extricate himself. Isabel showed no signs she intended to release him from his promise, despite his obvious reluctance to keep it, and he dared not contemplate why that was. It could only be for the inheritance he was supposed to have and not for any other reason. Certainly not for love. And yet, if he forced the separation, he would look like a louse and would find it extremely difficult to build a successful practice in Spa. He might not even be able to earn the most basic living. It seemed that whichever way he looked at it, he was entirely atpoint non plus.
Chapter 17
“We shall then have time to talk more intimately than this setting allows.”
James’s overheard words rang in Amy’s mind as she climbed into the carriage last, and it forced her to face a cold reality. Although it was a difficult thing to admit, even to herself, she had been hoping for the impossible. She had been looking out for James as though he were still available. As though she still had a chance at being a part of his life and heart. But he wished to beintimatewith Miss Prexley. Well, that was no wonder! The woman was to become his wife.
She forced these painful emotions into submission, hiding them behind a placid face, as her father rapped on the window to signal Ambrose. The carriage moved forward and began to turn, and he leaned back against the squabs with a sigh.
“It is time to be out of this damp. My joints are none too comfortable after sitting in it for so long, even with the snake vertebrae coiled about my neck.” He rubbed both knees with his hands. “The gold chair in the parlor and a hot cup of tea will suit me admirably.”
“I am sorry to hear it.” Amy’s worry over her father’s discomfort brought her attention back in full force. “When we reach the hotel, I will have Mrs. Mercy see to making you comfortable.” Then she could go to her room and be alone for a while.
“I do not believe Hughes is capable of curing me,” her father stated again. “His prescription to drink the waters does not have any effect at all. It will be best to shorten our stay here, I think. With a little preparation, we might leave in three weeks. Perhaps even in as little as a fortnight.”
“Oh.” Amy’s breath froze. Although her father had complained of the inefficiency of his treatment, she had not considered the idea that he might wish to leave early. “Is it not too soon to give up, Papa? It has not been a month.”
Her spirits plunged at the idea of leaving, but why? A brief moment’s reflection gave her the answer. As hard as it was to admit, she knew it was because she was not ready to say adieu to James so soon—not even when she knew that staying would only cause her pain. They had not seen each other for six years, and she needed time to accustom herself to the fact of meeting and losing him again.
Besides, the charming city of Spa had grown on her. It was the smallest of cities in their planned tour, and it was a comfortable place to be, with pleasant routines and friends she enjoyed meeting. It was the first time she had discovered that she could indeed thrive in a place outside of England. She must also consider the challenges of continuing their Continental tour without her father having improved in any way. They had put a lot of faith in the curative powers of Spa to ease the rest of their tour.
Mr. Bridwell gave her question some thought, and she added to her persuasion. “More time must surely be needed to experience the benefits of the thermal waters.”
