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Chapter 15
Isaac,with Aunt Margarette on his arm, reached one side of the long, though empty ballroom, and slowly spun about, giving his aunt plenty of time to keep in step beside him. She seemed to lean more heavily on him the longer they walked. He agreed that doing what the doctor had instructed was important, but he didn’t want Aunt Margarette pushing so hard that she hurt herself.
“Did the doctor tell you how far you needed to walk each day?” he asked.
“Already worn out?” Aunt Margarette said, and though he could hear the tease in her voice, it sounded more winded that he felt it ought to.
He also knew better than to mention it. “I am only curious.”
She shot him a glance that told him she knew exactly why he was asking. “The doctor insists I take a turn about each day, but only ever said not to make it too short.” She stopped then, breathing heavily.
Maybe he was pushing her to walk too fast? Isaac slowed his step a bit. “I am at your disposal. Just tell me when you’d like to return to the drawing room.”
She nodded. “Perhaps we ought to return now. I can walk further later today.”
“If you wish it. Only, let me know when you want to walk again, and I’ll accompany you.” He didn’t like the thought of her taking a turn about the empty ballroom alone. Suppose she fell? She’d specifically asked to walk in this room, saying it was the longest room in the house and she didn’t like turning around every three steps. But it was also a bit removed from the main living spaces; if she hurt herself and cried out, no one would hear her for some time.
“I should very much like the company,” Aunt Margarette said as they crossed into the corridor and turned their steps toward the drawing room. “If you aren’t otherwise busy.” She gave him a knowing smile.
Did they have plans later today? Isaac searched his memory but recalled nothing. Reaching the drawing room, Isaac helped his aunt into a seat comfortably near the hearth.
“Is something happening that I’ve forgotten?” he asked, taking the seat across from her.
“I happen to know that Lady Nightingale is at home today, is all.”
Why would he care if she were at home or not? More to the point, why would Aunt Margarettethinkhe cared?
And yet, at the sound of Lady Nightingale’s name, his chest warmed, and he suddenly felt almost lightheaded. Thoughts of their kiss had hardly left him these past few days, and they never failed to bring with them the same heady desire he’d felt at the Christmas Day ball.
“I think you ought to call on her,” Aunt Margarette said with a smile that looked a little too knowing for Isaac’s taste.
“I don’t see how you came to that conclusion,” Isaac said, shifting about in his seat and leaning his elbows on the armrests.
“I only think you ought to take a little time to sit with her, talk with her, and see if she isn’t quite different than you’ve assumed.”
What a strange notion.
And yet...was Mr. Allen not proof that every individual related to Mr. Grant didn’t have to be as duplicitous as he’d been?
What if hehadmisjudged Lady Nightingale?
Isaac ran a hand across his chin. But Mr. Allen was a distant cousin. Lady Nightingale had been raised by Mr. Grant.
“Even if I did misjudge her,” Isaac said at length, “I don’t see the point of me going to call on her.”
“Perhaps you will finally be able to make peace with what happened in your youth.” Aunt Margarette picked up her needlepoint. “Or perhaps you will find something...more.”
The memory of Lady Nightingale in his arms, snowflakes melting against her skin, came back with such force Isaac had to blink several times to remain in the present.
“If I did visit Evergreen Cottage,” he found himself saying, “it would be to see Mr. Allen, not his cousin.”
“Of course,” Aunt Margarette said, her smile growing.
“I’m in earnest,” he insisted. “Mr. Allen is acquitting the neighborhood soon, and I’ll be most sorry to see him go.”
“Then you ought to visit him before he leaves.”
Yes, he ought to. Isaac pressed to a stand, suddenly eager to be gone.
