Page 21 of The Gentleman Was Right
With a few mumbled words of thanks, she kept going until she was out of sight. Turning her attention to her sister, she refused to consider whether he would join them or retire to his room. And she refused to admit which one she would prefer.
* * *
Edward hadn’t minded getting caught in the rain, but he didn’t love what it had done to his boots. Or his hair. He peered into the mirror in the corner of his bedchamber and tried to restore order to the latter. The former, he feared, were a lost cause.
He spent even longer than normal righting his appearance. Not because he looked awful, but because he was a bit flustered. He didn’t mind Isabelle’s machinations. If anything, he was amused by her ingenuity.
It was the reason for her antics that made him pause.
Why was she so certain he would make a good husband?
It wasn’t that he had doubts, but she hardly knew him, and she had thrust him and Violet together so readily. Was Basil more awful than he’d assumed?
Or did she truly believe Edward and Violet were right for each other?
He didn’t have the answers to either question, so when he was finally satisfied by his appearance, he went back downstairs and found Isabelle perched on the same settee, her foot still elevated, the remnants of tea and biscuits on the adjacent table, and Violet pacing near the window.
“Edward will understand if we have to skip the assembly,” she said without a touch of regret, and he couldn’t help wishing she sounded a bit sadder about it.
“Nonsense. I’m nearly certain I’ll be able to dance. I don’t feel a twinge of pain now that I’ve rested,” Isabelle responded, flexing her foot and raising it a few inches off the pillows.
Violet swung around, her hands on her hips. “What a miraculous recovery.” Her mouth stayed open like she had more to say, but she faltered when she noticed Edward lingering in the doorway.
Isabelle twisted, her eyes crinkling when she realized his arrival had caused her sister to fall quiet. “A bit of rest goes a long way,” she said with a wink.
“I’m most relieved you have recovered,” he replied, entering the room.
Violet came closer and grumbled, “I’m also relieved, but?—”
“Excellent,” Isabelle interrupted brightly. “I’m so glad we’ll still be able to attend the assembly together, but I’ll need some time to determine which of my gowns is least worn out.” She sighed, swung her legs off the settee, and gracefully rose to her feet. “And since it’ll be a later night than I’m accustomed to, I believe I’ll take a bit of a nap after I’ve chosen a gown.”
“How can you be tired when you spent half the day resting?” Violet asked.
Isabelle smiled serenely. “Restingisexhausting.”
With those words, she smoothly exited the room.
Edward couldn’t help smiling when he noted no evidence of a limp, but Violet put her face in her hands and groaned. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has gotten into her.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. And neither does Isabelle.” If anything, he was flattered.
Violet peeked at him through her fingers. “She is incorrigible.”
“Most definitely,” he agreed. “But her attempts at matchmaking aren’t hurting either of us.”
“They aren’t helping either,” she mumbled.
“Nonsense.” He smiled. “We had a pleasant walk.”
And then, determined to allow her to guide the conversation, he rearranged the pillows on the settee, took a seat, and selected one of the remaining biscuits.
“Those are Isabelle’s leftovers,” Violet scolded. “Mrs. Eggington will provide fresh tea and biscuits if we only ask.”
Popping the biscuit in his mouth, he chewed and said, “They’re still delicious and I’m hungry.”
She shook her head and sailed out of the room.
Not certain whether she’d return, he ate another biscuit, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. No additional ideas of how he could help emerged. If she wouldn’t marry him, and she wouldn’t stay, he wasn’t sure what he could do. Especially with the details he had. He considered questioning her again about Basil but concluded that badgering her further would only serve to annoy her.
