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‘All right.’ Albright shrugged. ‘Go right ahead and break her heart because you won’t risk a snub from the Earl of Bythorn.’
‘Snub? I’d be lucky if he didn’t come after me with a brace of Mantons and a blunt carving knife. I would in his shoes.’
‘Coward,’ James said.
‘I am trying to do the honourable thing,’ Giles said between gritted teeth. ‘And that includes not knocking your teeth down your throat. You’re the only man who can get away with calling me a coward and you know it.’
‘If you want to do the honourable thing, then you want to marry her,’ Albright persisted. ‘Let’s go back inside, it is raw out here and it must almost be time for luncheon.’
‘Of course I do not.’ Giles took the other man’s arm and steered him down a path towards the back of the house. ‘I am not in love. I have never been in love, I do not intend on falling in love. I intend,’ he continued with more force when that declaration received no response, ‘to make a sensible marriage to a well-dowered young woman from a good merchant family. Eventually.’
‘That’s three of you who’ll be unhappy then,’ James retorted as they went in through the garden door. ‘Give me your arm as far as my room, there’s a good fellow.’
Lord James was particularly pleasant to her over luncheon, Isobel thought. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the misunderstanding over the house-party incident. Sheer stubborn pride made her smile and follow all his conversational leads. She wished she could confide in him, for he seemed both intelligent and empathetic and he knew Giles so well. That was impossible, of course—he would have no more time for her foolish emotions than Giles had and, besides, she could not discuss Giles with anyone.
She had bathed her red eyes and dusted her nose with a little discreet rice powder. Giles would never guess she had been weeping, she decided, studying her own reflection in the overmantel glass.
‘You think this new census is a good idea?’ he was saying now in response to Lord James’s speculation on how accurate the results of the government’s latest scheme might be. He sounded not one wit discomforted by what had occurred that morning. Isobel tried to be glad of it.
‘What do you think, Mr Harker?’ she challenged him, frustrated by his impenetrable expression. He was treating her as though she was unwell, fragile, which was humiliating. It seemed to her that when he spoke to her his voice was muted. His face, when their eyes met, was politely bland. But she knew him too well now to believe he was indifferent to what had passed between them that morning. There were strong emotions working behind the green, shuttered eyes.
‘I think that it will all depend on the competence of the parish priest entrusted to fill in the return in each place,’ he said now. ‘Better if each person was questioned individually. Or every householder, at least.’
‘You think that would expose more of the truth?’ Isobel asked. ‘That people would reveal their circumstances honestly?’
‘Perhaps not,’ Giles said slowly. ‘And perhap
s it is a mistake ever to ask for too much honesty.’ Isobel had no difficulty reading the meaning hidden in his words. He had been honest about his desires, had led her to the point of seduction and now he was regretting it.
‘Sometimes people do not know the truth because they are too close to it,’ Lord James observed, making her jump. She had forgotten that she and Giles were not alone. ‘The observer often sees more of the picture, don’t you think?’
‘So gossips and old maids like to say in order to justify their meddling,’ Giles said harshly.
Startled, Isobel glanced between the two men. Albright’s mouth twisted into a wry smile, but he did not appear to feel snubbed by what had sounded like a very personal remark. Giles, on the other hand, looked furious with his friend. Something had passed between them that morning, it was obvious.
The earl looked up from his plate of cold beef, unconscious of the undercurrents flowing around his luncheon table. ‘The census? Very good idea in my view. I’d be glad if they did it in Ireland, then I might have a better idea of what to expect of conditions and problems there. I may suggest it when we see how this works out.’
The talk veered off into discussion of Irish politics, social conditions and, inevitably, sporting possibilities. Isobel placed her knife and fork neatly on her plate, folded her hands on her lap and watched Giles.
He guarded his feelings well at the best of times, except for his betraying eyes. But now, with his face so damaged and his eyes bruised, she was not at all sure she could read him at all. Except to know he was unhappy. Good, she thought, and went back to chasing a corner of pickled plum tart around her plate with no appetite at all.
In the general stir at the end of the meal Isobel found herself beside James Albright. ‘I hope you have a safe journey home, Lord James.’
‘Rest assured I will make your innocence known to Penelope and all my family,’ he said. ‘And we will ensure the facts are spread far and wide. Unless, of course…’ he lowered his voice ‘…you would prefer to stay ruined?’
‘Whatever can you mean, sir?’
‘It might widen your choice of marriage partner, perhaps,’ he suggested with a slight smile.
‘Are you suggesting what I think you are?’ Isobel demanded. Marriage? ‘There is no question of a match between myself and…and anyone.’
‘No? Of course anyone would say that, too, and, if…er, anyone’s defences were not down, he would never have got himself into a position where he betrayed his feelings to me quite so blatantly, as I am sure you realise.’
‘As we are speaking very frankly, Lord James,’ Isobel hissed, furious, ‘the feelings betrayed to me were not those which lead to a respectable marriage—quite the opposite, in fact!’
‘Oh, dear. Hard to believe that anyone could make such a mull of it, let alone my friend. He is usually more adroit,’ Lord James observed. Isobel glanced round and found they were alone in the room. His sharp hearing must have told him that also, for he raised his voice above the murmur he had been employing. ‘If I am mistaken in your sentiments, Lady Isobel, then pray forgive me. But if I am not, then you are going to have to fight for what you want. Not only fight your parents and society, but fight Harker as well.’
‘I have no intention of throwing myself at a man who only wants me for one thing,’ she said. ‘And I do not want him at all, so the situation does not arise.’
