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Confusion marked her face.“What do you mean? Why?”
Sitting near her, Isaac reached over, cupped her cheek, and laid the gentlest of kisses on her lips and her eyes fluttered closed at the moment of connection. His arm tightened at her waist,but the kiss did not deepen because Isaac feared that he would push her into distress.
One of his hands slid up to the back of her neck, and he pulled awayand smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone.“That’s why.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Neither do I,” Isaac retorted.“Well, not fully. I might not know what I want, but I do know what I do not need. The other night I was surrounded by Lords and Ladies of the peerage, and I was stunned into realizing that I did not meld with that sort anymore.”
Louisa rested her hand on his chest.“I—You cannot mean it.”
“I mean it.” He drew her hand from his chest to his lips, holding it so close his lips brushed her knuckles as he spoke. “I think you know enough about my past, don’t you?”
She blushed a shade that he loved.“I do. I know it was not right, but I—I could not help but feel aneed to know more about you. I could not have asked you because that would be utterly inconceivable.”
Sagging on the seat behind him, Isaac rubbed his forehead.“I did not know that pain could be so severe, Miss—” he paused, “—do you mind if I call you Louisa now? I think we have passed the formality point.”
“I would like that,” Louisa smiled. “And may I call you Isaac?”
“Please,” he nodded. “I suffered under unmitigated pain for years.There were days when I had no strength to get out of bed, and when I did, I kept my room dark—I felt utterly lost.”
“I’m sorry,” Louisa uttered.
Looking kindly on her, Isaac smoothed a curl away from her left ear, “Just be glad you have not felt heartbreak,” he said.
“Yet.” Louisa pulled away.
He knew what she meant, and if things progressed and their emotions grew deeper, heartbreak would be inevitable. Society would ostracize him and cast her as a seductress and a fortune-seeker. But Isaac had given up hope on being a part of the ton months ago, and if Louisa realizedthey measured their lives by the index others gave them, they would never come to anything.
“I know,” Isaac replied.“I know it’s terrifying but understand that I want nothing to do with the ton anymore.”
“But what if the ton wants more from you?” Louisa replied cagily. “I don’t know if we should take this chance, Isaac, and now—” She bit her lip. “—and now I feel as if I am adding myself to that list.”
His brow cocked, “List?”
“Of the pains you have suffered in your life,” she said, “Your broken engagement, the deaths of your parents, and now, that you told me about your depression, I feel like rejecting you is another one.”
Caging her chin, Isaac smiled, “You have not rejected me; I can see it in your eyes. I am just as hesitant as you are.”
The last streak of orange in the sky had dimmed to indigo, and Louisa breathed in deeply.“I am not hesitant—I’mfearful.”
“I know what fear is,” Isaac replied.“And I know it's not easy to overcome. I’ll wait for you as long as you need to realize that outside opinions do not easily sway me. The silk-swathed ton does not frighten me.”
“But they frighten me,” she continued in a whisper as she stood. “I—I should go, Isaac.”
“I understand,” Isaac murmured and watched as they hurried off to the house. Her moving away from him, did not hurt as much as she thought it would; Isaac knew he might have started something that he might not be able to contain or finish, but he had vowed not to hide behind fear anymore and that he was content to wait until she came around.
Bracing his elbows on the lip of the bench behind him, hetilted his head to the dark sky. “Mother, Father, if you are listening, please know that I have sunk into pain and fear for years, and I apologize to you, but no more; I want to be the man you raised me to be, and I am starting now.”
***
Staring into her stew, Louisa could not piece the last three hours together—especially the section inside the garden that still felt like a dream. Giving up on eating, she took the bowl back to the kitchen and headed off to the quarter.
The Duke—no, Isaac’s—kiss still burned on her lips, and just thinking of the heat in his eyes made her stomach flip up itself. It was not possible that he had told her what he had, and it was entirely probable that she had dreamt it all; that her hidden desire had manifested itself into a likeness of Isaac instead of Isaac himself.
But now, inside her room and staring at her flushed face and kiss-plumped lips, she knew her reasoning was as ephemeral as smoke—he had kissed her, and he had told her that he felt something for her. What made her heart constrict was that she knew she was not good enough for him.
She could write a list; she had read five books in her life, and the Duke knew Latin. She knew the proper household procedure, that silver polish was destruction on a copper pot, dash of salt and lemon juice would do better; the Duke knew legislative process, how to rule against criminals and how to run a dukedom.
