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"I think you heard me fine, love. And I think you liked what you heard," he purred. His voice felt like hot honey in the air but the outrage flowed hot in Isobel's veins.
"I came here to eat a fine dinner with you, and to discuss the nature of my house's debt to you, not to be insulted and spoken to so crudely," Isobel fumed.
"Insulted? Love, I've been nothing but cordial," Ellery scoffed.
"Cordial?! You propositioned me!" Isobel exclaimed.
"Do you think it's an insult to be propositioned? If I proposition you, doesn't that mean I've taken quite fancy to you? How's that an insult?" Lord Brighton smugly commented. She couldn't fathom him. How dare he?! She had grown up a proper lady, schooled in the proper w
ay to handle society. How had a man born in such privilege become such a lewd lout?
"It's quite inappropriate!" Isobel exclaimed, not getting to the heart of his claims.
"But that doesn't tell me whether you think it's insulting or not, to be propositioned. Do you want to know a little something?" Ellery asked smugly. "My father is the one who wanted us to wed. When your father turned him down, it caused a falling out between our families. I don't know what business came up between the two of them, but it affected me more than it did either of them. And now, I've become public enemy of the Duskwood estate," Lord Brighton scoffed. "And why? Because my father and I spoke our minds? Was your father too afraid of scandal, the same way you are? Because I'm free to live life as I see fit?"
"Free? You call this embarrassing way that you act, freedom?" Isobel couldn't believe him.
"You'd rather have old smelly, filthy Thrushmore on top of you instead, because it's what's expected of you? Is that freedom?" Lord Brighton needled at her.
"That's enough!" Isobel shouted, flustered. "I came here to discuss the matter of my debts, not the matter of my bedtime behavior!"
"It's amusing, you ought to mention both, m'lady," Lord Brighton smirked. "There's quite a simple way to solve both of those problems."
"The nature of my bedtime interactions are not problem!" Isobel shouted.
"But perhaps mine are. Because a fine woman like yourself isn't present in them," Ellery smirked that devil's smirk. She looked away, finding it harder and harder to deny him - not just how absolutely handsome he was, but she couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere deep underneath all of his words of idle rebellion, lay a core of some measure of truth.
"What exactly are you proposing, you scoundrel?" Isobel seethed, finally locking eyes with him; hers full of fury, and his full of that damned, roguish grace.
"I'll consider your debts forgiven. Duskwood Manor will be free to build its fortune once again, and the town of Upton free of its many, burdensome troubles," Lord Brighton declared. "But you'll have to pay a personal price, Lady Duskwood."
"What price do you expect to extract from me?" Isobel sneered.
"Your body, of course, dear Isobel," Lord Brighton spoke nonchalantly. Isobel quivered; full of vitriol and disbelief.
"What do you mean? My body," she breathes in a soft whimper.
"Your debts are forgiven if you give yourself to me," he responded. "Your body, in my bedroom. And not just once, no," he clarified, chewing on a piece of bread. "Come to my manor. Bring your things, stay with me. Be mine, lovely Lady Duskwood, and play my games. Learn to love that dark little part of you, screaming to get out," he smirked. "And your debts are forgiven. And, perhaps, you may even learn to love yourself a little bit."
"You... you want me to be your wife," Isobel scoffed.
"I never said marriage. I said your body will be mine," Lord Brighton clarified. "Marriage is an illusion, just like all of these other foolish, trite institutions we conjure up. Maybe I can teach you about the world, sweet miss Isobel."
"You're disgusting," Isobel shot up from the table, her facial features wrinkled in distaste. His attitude, his words, his confidence... all of it fed in to her, like some molten river of lust, and while she felt so repulsed by his brash and shameless nature, and so enticed by his curious promises, she knew this type of man. She knew the philanderers who roamed the streets of London. So shameless, and so improper. She had a reputation to live up to - and she had a father to make proud.
"Disgusting, or open-minded?" Ellery asked, watching her closely.
"Disgusting, and unbelievable," Isobel rebuffed him. "You'll have your money, you toad," she snarled, storming towards the dining hall door.
"Think on my offer, love. It may not be what you expect," Lord Brighton called after her, casually reclining in his dining chair. With furor in her step Isobel trudged down the stairs; sunset had given way to the first inklings of twilight. Isobel had no idea what she had stepped in to, and even as her instincts pull her back towards that dining room, her sense of propriety and honor keep her storming footsteps directed towards the door of Norbury Hall. Full of vigor, she thought on a new plan - one that didn't involve her body, her dignity, or so much scandal.
The Duke of Thrushmore... yes, certainly he could help. A true gentleman - admired across northern England, and an eligible bachelor. As she stood in the moonlight, her carriage slowly galloping along the roundabout, she pondered on him. She set aside her reservations, locking them away in a dark corner of her mind. Sure the old man could be bargained with; he'd no doubt be open to negotiating some manner of fair resolution to this mess.
"Mr. Trevingham," she nodded to the carriage driver as his rickety wooden vehicle arrived.
"M'lady. That was quite a quick dinner meeting," he mused.
"How far a ride is it to the Duke of Thrushmore's estate?" she queried, stepping in to the carriage.
