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“What about your friend, Lord Ashford?” Louisa asked. “How is he in all this?”
Rubbing a hand over her back, Isaac said, “William is finally coming around in the realization that I do not fit the mold the ton wants to put me in. Endless nights in gentlemen clubs and balls that stretch to dawn are extremely frivolous to me.I could have stayed with gentlemen in the billiard room with strong liquor and tawdry comparison of the women who attended, but I did not. Because I wanted to come home and be with you.”
“…I do not know what to say,” Louisa replied.
He shook his head.“You don’t have to say a thing. Just stay here with me.”
Louisa shifted to place her back to him and gladly, Isaac held her there, loving how he could notch his chin just over her heardand how she fitperfectly against him. He knew that by morning light, she would be gone, but he only cared that she had come to him and would treasure all the time he had with her.
***
By dawn, he was right—Louisa was gone. But Isaac did not mind her absence; she could not risk discovery and until he found a way to free her from her position and solidify their relationship, it would have to be that way. His hand did rest on her cooled spot on the bed with longing though and stayed that way before he pulled himself out of the bed and moved away.
After a quick wash and he donnedhis morning coat, left to the study and flung the windows wide. After a quick glance out, he went to the desk and pulled out a few ledgers and rung for his morning meal.
When the door was knocked on and hepermitted the person to enter, Isaac lifted his head with Louisa’s name on his lips—only to see another maid enter. He scrambled a little for a name and when it came to him, greeted her.
“Good morning, Miss Wilde.” He went back to his books while swallowing his disappointment and hoping that the same emotion would not show on his face.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she saidcheerfully as she rested his steaming drink and plate before him. “We’re a bit short-staffed this morn. Miss Grant left for home on a sudden emergency and Miss Stone is a bit under the weather.”
Trying to keep calm with the knowledge that his love was ill, he asked, “It’s not a grievous illness, I hope.”
“No, Your Grace, she stated a headache and stomach-ache,” Miss Wilde replied. “I think by this evening, she will be right as rain.”
“Give her my best wishes,” Isaac said while reaching for the newspaper that had been delivered with the meal. He shook it out, anticipating the scandalous report abouthim and Miss Follet somewhere—and in the back of the paper, in the so-called scandal papers, he found it.
