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Chapter Sixteen
Despite it, all—common sense, rules of the peerage and the Great Realm of England, societal biases, and all-around pitfalls—Louisa started to believe that something beautifulcould come from her and Isaac. She loved him, and from the wordshe had whispered into her ear that night, almost a sennight ago, she knew that he loved her too.
Now, as she slipped into the study that night, the designated meeting place for their private moments.She entered, happily envisioning another night of sensuality, howevershe came upona somber Isaac. The room was dimmed as the fire in the grate was burning low and the faint flickers of the light that fell on his face made Louisa pause at the doorway.
His downcast mood was almost palpable and seeing him hunched over the table like thiswith hisleft hand covering his forehead and the other flat on the table, and she knew something was dearly wrong.
“Isaac,” Louisa said. “Are you all right? What is the matter? Are you ill?”
He peeled his hand away from his face and let out a long shuddery breath. “No, I am not ill, nor am I all right. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death. I had not minded it for a long time, but now, seeing the date, it has all the effect of a punch to my stomach. I feel…winded. My insides feel all tangled, and I—”
He broke off and slumped even further onto the desk. “I was so mired in my own muck; I never realized it—for two years, I never paid them any mind.”
Hesitantly, Louisa rested her hand on his shoulder. “I am sure they will understand, Isaac. You were in pain, and under unbelievable agony; anyone who loved you, alive or dead, would have understood that.”
Isaac scrubbed his face with both palms. “I feel like a rascal. They deserve more honor than what I am giving them.”
Bracing her hip on the edge of the table, Louisa asked, “What do you propose then?”
“Come with me to visit their graves tomorrow?”Isaac asked, and she could hear the sorrow lingering in his tone.
But she could not agree so suddenly. Would that not raise suspicions? Him taking amaidto his parents’ graves?She would imagine only his intended wifeor someone else close to him doing something so intimate and personal.
He reached out and held her hands tightly, and his tone was raw.“Please come. I can only think of having you there with me. I would mean more to me than you could ever imagine.”
“Isaac—”
“Damn the naysayers, or spectators, Louisa,” he said again. “I want you at my side.”
How could she reject such an earnest plea? Covering both of his hands with her free one, Louisa said, “I would love to be your companion.” She then looked over the couch. “Why don’t we lay down for awhile? I would love for you to tell me about them—your parents sound so special.”
Wordlessly, Isaac stood and, still grasping her hand, crossed over to the couch and took her down with him. His back was laid on the arm, and he had her draped over his body. Louisa’s hand lifted, and she took her hair tie out to eke a smile out of Isaac.
He stroked his fingers through her hair before he started speaking. “My father was a strident man, Louisa. He was strict on getting an education and being an upstanding citizen of the Realm. He had the uttermost respect for solidersand anyone who put their life on the line to save others.
“He had no patience for lackluster or lukewarm actions. With him, your yay had to yay, or your nay must be nay. To be honest, I never understood how he was until I grew up and found that one had to hold firm to one’s decision and one’s word,” Isaac said.
“He sounds like a good man, though,” Louisa mentioned.
“Even though strict, he was,” Isaac replied. “My mother, on the other hand, was his antitheses. She was the gentlest human being ever to live.Never once had I heard her raise her voice to me or Father. She was always so calm and insightful that I began to hope that I would find a bride as lovely and perceptive as she was.”
He began to absently combhis fingers through her hairwhile she spoke. “It cut me deeply when she passed, Louisa because I was there whereshe was ill, and I could sit at her bedside. My father had died when I was studying atCambridge and I had not been there.”
Louisa sighed. “You know that sometimes I wonder if it were worse for me to have my parents and lose them, or if it were better for me to not have them and dream about what they would be like.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think anything can surpass having loving parents, even if you do lose them. Their love stays with you long after they have been taken from you.”
“I will take yourword for it,” Louisa said. “May I ask, how is it that you never had any siblings?”
“From what I was told, my mother had a hard time bearing me, so for the abundance of caution—and what I suspect was my father’s selfishness to have my mother live instead of any other son or daughter they would have had—they never conceived again.”
“Had you ever wished for siblings?” Louisa asked.
“Of course,” Isaac said. “Every child wants another sibling—well, for those who are not spoiled rotten from birth.”
The tone of his voice told Louisa that there was a story behind his words, but she did not want to take him off his path—he needed to speak about them. If only to give him some solace inside his soul and cauterize the wounds he had ripped into himself with the guilt of not remembering their deaths.
“And what would you have rather had? A girl of a boy?”
