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Chapter Eighteen
“Well, you look pleased,” William remarked as he took a seat in Isaac’s study. “Which, now that I think about it, tells me that something is off.”
Peeking at his friend over the edge of his newspaper, Isaac asked, “How is it that a smile can tell you that something is wrong? Should I be calling the men at Bedlam to pay you a visit?”
Fixing his dandy maroon cravat, William cleared his throat. “Your usual scowl tells me that all is well, but a smile tells me that something strange has happened. What is it?”
Flicking the paper up, Isaac snorted. “I am not willing to tell you.”
“Your best friend?” William asked. “You have truly hurt me my good man. But you are still smiling, so I will take my chance guessing what it is.”
“Have at it,” Isaac said, before flicking his paper back open. “But you have only three chances, and they you will tell me why you are here.”
“You have a new wardrobe coming in? One that is not as dour as your normal attire,” William said. “That alwaysexcites me.”
“No,” Isaac said, while turning a page. “My clothes are as dreary and gloomy as they always are.”
“You won a thousand pounds or someone’s estate in a game of whist,” William said again.
“I abhor those places and you know that I cannot play a game of cards if my life was on the line.” Isaac turned another page. “You have one chance left.”
“Hmm.” William leaned in and placed his elbows and then his forearms on the table between them. Isaac tried to not to react at the analytical gaze sinking under his skin, and after realizing that had read a passage thrice, he turned the page. “You have found a lady-friend.”
Isaac’s fingers tightened around the paper, a bit imperceivably but he knew that William’s sharp eyes had spotted it. “You sly dog, I knew you had it in you, but I never thought that you would move on it. I am happy for you, Montagu. Now tell me, who is the lucky lady?”
“No one you would know,” Isaac said as he realized that he was at the end of the paper and with his temporary distraction now useless, he folded it and set it aside. “So, stop asking.”
“I will not,” William said. “If I do not know her, I know someone who will. And she must be stunningly beautiful or brilliant to have turned your head.”
Before he could answer, his door was knocked on—Louisa’s knock—and he permitted her to come in. The first thing his eyes landed on was the metal comb in her hair as she came in with the tray. It was holding a bottle of wine, a kettle of coffee and an array of delicate sandwiches and slivers of cake.
“Miss Morna has sent up some refreshments, Your Grace.” Louisa said as she rested the tray on the table. “Is there anything you would like to add?”
“I do not think we need anything more,” Isaac said, with a fleeting look at the tray—he was more interested in tracing the delicate lines of her face. “Thank you.”
“Very well, My Lords,” Louisa curtsied. “Please ring if you need anything more.”
His gaze lingered with her, and only parted when she left the room. Only with the quite shut of the door did he turn back to William—and suddenly wish had not. Realization was breaking over the Marquess’s face like morning light eating out at darkness.
His eyes clenched tight. “Please do not say it.”
Devilishly, William asked, “Say what, my dear friend?”
***
After cleaning up a table in the kitchen, Louisa washed her hands and impulsively touched the comb in her hair. It was a simple gesture, but it was one that showed Isaac how much she was bending to the idea that they could be together.
She was still unsure how their relationship would be received by others, but she knew one thing—that she loved Isaac and would do all she could to stay by his side. With her duties done for the morning, she took a buttered roll to the garden behind the house and began to nibble on it.
She was due to visit Amelia the next day and see if she had found more about Miss Follet. It still bothered her that the lady’s intention for Isaac were. She briefly thought about the strange look Lord Ashford had given Isaac when she had come in the roombut dismissed it as nothing.
Even if Isaac had told him about their relationship or had not, it did not matter as his words about them having the right to love who they loved were also making a mark on her. If Isaac did not care about their relationship, she would not mind it either.
Maybe in time I will grow to be comfortable with the stares and whispers.
Finishing the roll, she dusted her fingers off and went back to the kitchen. She was slated to clean the library that evening as well and started looking forward to the night they would share there later. She even began to wonder if there was a way for her to spend another night in Isaac’s bed.
From a box of cleaning materials, she grasped a box of dusting cloths and a broom before merrily made her way to the west wing to start cleaning the spare rooms. Time dwindled away while cleaning and the time to go to the library came around.
