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Chapter Seven
What the deuce is wrong with me?
All day the sight of MissStone’s flushed face had lingered at the forefront of his mind, evoking emotions that he had sworn were dead. He wanted to reach out and brush his knuckles across her cheek, and he could wager that she did not know what a kiss tasted like.
But no-no! There were so many barriers, ones higher than mountains, wider than oceans, and unnumberable pitfallsbetween them that it was inconceivable to think anything couldcome of it. He was a Duke—she was his servant.
But that did not stop him from thinking of her; in many ways she was a kindred spirit, and in so many other ways, she was an inspiration. With all she had suffered, to face every day with hope, was something Isaac had thought impossible.
In those days that he had laid in bed from sunlight to sundown, hope, faith, strength, and even dignity had disappeared. The depression that had come from the broken heart and his parents' deaths had sent him into spirals of regret, self-hatred, pain; the emotions doubling-back on each other. He had fought, God knows he had tried, but not hard enough—the toxic mix had dragged him into despair.
Wine laced with laudanum had turned him numb at times, but he had bravely broken it off when he had felt his mindbecome filled with fog and his limbs heavier than blocks of lead. Now, he faced another problem, traitorous emotions.
I’m sure she feels nothing but Christian kindness; t’was why she told me about her life; nothing else.
But if that were it, why did he feel so restless?Uneasy enough to leave his office and find himself treading towards his mother’s garden, as if the parts of her soul that lingered there would miraculously give him the answer.
He approached the small square—but then heard voices.
“What’s wrong?” astrange woman said.
“Nothing,” Louisa’s troubled voice told him that there was indeed something wrong.
“I know you better than anyone,” the other laid. “And I know that you are lying. Tell me what is bothering you.”
“I—” Louisa paused, “—I’ve made a mistake coming here, Amelia. His Grace is just…”
“Just what?”
“A man I wished I could have met in another lifetime,” Louisa said heavily. “He’s kind, courteous, a little broken, but who isn’t somehow, someway? I mean, he is handsome and wealthy, yes, but I would not care if he were the Prince Regent, he deserves so much more than what was given to him, and I wish…he’s alone, Amelia, he hides it well, but I can see it in his eyes. I know because a few years ago, I had the same expression staring back at me from the mirror.”
“Oh, dear…” Amelia said.
“And you know what is so horrible?” Louisa said bitterly. “I cannot do anything about it. I do not know if what I feel for him is pity or unrequited affection, or a mix of the two. It’s not love—I know that, I know that I am not that important to the Duke, he could replace me in a moment; I’m not sure what to do now.”
“I wish I could tell you, Louisa,” Amelia replied. “But I know one thing, you nor I knew that we would be posted in houses like these; back at the orphanage, our futures were so bleak, but now we are in better positions. What is tosay that it will not work out somehow?”
“And what?” Louisa asked mockingly. “When in England have you heard that a Lord will care for servant beyond his duties? Much so in the way that is not belittled by his class?”
Having heard more than he should, Isaac retreated into the house behind him and went to his rooms. Louisa had feelings for him—him; it was astounding, and the memory of her words had him pouring a glass of wine and sinking into his seat.
I amnot the only one who hasbecome attached.
Isaac knew that it might not be best to pretend that he had not heard anything. He could never lie convincingly anyway. Moreover, he did not want to have Louisa feeling uncomfortable around him. When her friend left, and after her duties, he knew she should go back to the garden—then, he would talk to her.
***
The day was dimming when Isaac entered the garden and, as he had suspected, found Louisa sitting there. Her chin was down on her chest, and even as she looked defeated, he could not help but admire how her hair looked under the dying sun.
“MissStone,” he greeted, and fought a grimace when her head snapped up, and her eyes floodedwith fright.
Her gaze fellas she stood.“Good evening, Your Grace. I-I should go back inside; its near supper time, and I—’
“I know, Miss Stone,” Isaac cut her off a bit too curtly than he would have liked, but he then dimmed his tone. “Earlier this evening, I overheard you and your companion. I decided that it was not best for me to keep it from you, so I—”
“Am letting me go,” she whispered torturously. “I know, Your Grace, I expected it. I apologize because I knew nothing would ever come from it. If you could give me until tomorrow—”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss. Stone.” Isaac stepped forward.“You are not going anywhere.”
