The question Isabel had to ask herself was this. Would a marriage to the Marquess be any different than that of her parents? She did not want to be wed to a man she did not love and to whom she felt the need to make allowances.
If only I had the courage to run away and maybe even join the theater, she thought. Then perhaps she would be free to make her own decisions.
Unfortunately, that courage did not exist for her. Therefore, she stood and walked to the door of her bedroom, as ready as she would ever be to wait for the arrival of the Marquess of Oistermand and his tiresome stories of whatever business issues were annoying him at the moment, and she would listen as if any of it mattered to her.
***
The hour arrived much too quickly as Isabel sat in the parlor, her eyes fixed on the long-case clock set against the wall. She and her mother were once again busy with their embroidery, and her father sat reading beside the fireplace. She would have been happier reading, but her mother had a strict schedule that had to be adhered to, and Isabel was not in the mood to contradict her mother. Not that she ever did, but certainly not today of all days.
Lord Smythe was to arrive within the next few minutes, and Isabel could not stop her stomach from flip-flopping. She hoped he would be more engaging today, but she doubted rather highly it would happen.
Actually, she hoped even more that he did not come at all, for then she could be on her way earlier than anticipated to see Elizabeth—and Lord Charmain.
Every day since that fateful day Lord Smythe came to call, Elizabeth found it more and more difficult to keep her thoughts from Lord Charmain. Maybe she could place the blame on her need to finally apologize to him, thus relieving her of the burden she carried for her harsh words. However, if she were truly honest with herself, she would have to admit that there was more to her desire to see him again. And if her mother knew this, she would never allow Isabel to ever visit Elizabeth again!
Her heartbeat increased as the muffled voice of their butler came through the closed door of the parlor. She stifled a sigh, longing for this visit to be short so she could be on her way.
However, when the butler entered and bowed, it was not Lord Smythe who he announced. “The Baron Charmain.”
Isabel could not stop her jaw from dropping, and she snapped it shut, hoping her parents had taken no notice. Lord Charmain? What was he doing here?
“Lord Charmain,” Isabel’s father said as he shook the man’s hand and then he echoed Isabel’s thoughts, “what brings you here? I thought you were on your way to India.”
“My apologies for coming unannounced, but I arrived in London late last night and felt the need to come to deliver an important message.”
“Well, please have a seat,” her father said. “I cannot imagine what important news you could have for me that would make you return a ship to find me.” He seemed quite pleased with himself that he held such importance.
Isabel could not imagine either, but she found her spirits rising as the man took the seat offered him. Had he received her letter? Was it only a coincidence that he came calling on the same day she had mentioned in that letter?
“Humphrey, have tea brought up,” her father said to the butler, who bowed deeply and left the room. Then he turned back to Lord Charmain. “So, what is this message of such great import to make you turn your ship around? I hope no troubles have befallen you,” he asked Lord Charmain, beaming like a child receiving a good mark from his tutor on an assignment.
Lord Charmain sighed. “No, there are no troubles, per se. The fact of the matter is that we had set sail, but I had the ship return. If I might explain why, I believe you will find the story satisfying.”
“Why, yes, of course,” her father replied as he leaned forward in his chair, clearly anxious to hear the story the man had to tell.
Before he could speak, Humphrey returned with a tray laden with a silver teapot and four teacups in saucers.
“Mrs. St. Clair will pour,” her father told the butler. “You may go.” He returned his attention to Lord Charmain. “Please, tell us what brings you here.”
Lord Charmain accepted the cup Isabel’s mother offered him and took a sip before speaking. “I was at sea three days,” he said, setting the cup in its saucer on the table. “I was gazing out upon the ocean waters, thinking. I knew the village where I would stay lay in front of me, and that the people would be happy to greet me.”
Isabel almost laughed as she wondered how this man was able to concoct such stories. Did he think of them ahead of time or was he able to produce them at will?
“Then I thought of England, and even more importantly, of London, for there was a matter I left unsettled there.”
“Do go on,” her father said in encouragement. Her mother listened with apt attention, as well.
“Having been given the opportunity to converse with your daughter, I came to the realization that all of the jewels in India could not satisfy me.”
A sigh came from Isabel’s mother, but her father looked confused.
“You see,” Lord Charmain said, “I could not leave the country knowing that a lady such as your daughter might meet another man. Therefore, I had the captain turn the ship around so I could come here this morning to speak to you.”
“I’m sorry, I do not understand.”
“Sir, I seek permission to court your daughter. Of course, that is if she would allow me to do so.”
A hundred thoughts went through Isabel’s mind. Though it was not what she had envisioned for her first suitor, it promised a far better outcome than spending time with Lord Smythe.
“Well, I don’t know,” her father said. “Isabel?”
“Yes, I would like that,” she replied, trying with all her might to keep her excitement subdued but knowing she was failing miserably.
“What do you think, Martha?”
Her mother was looking at her father as if waiting for his permission, and her father sighed and rubbed his chin. Isabel feared he would not allow it, and the thought, surprisingly, made her heart twist. She turned to Lord Charmain and found herself pleading to him with her eyes. She could not spend another moment with Lord Smythe!
“Perhaps I have been too rude,” Lord Charmain said, standing as if to leave. “With returning to London in the way that I did, as well as trying to gain a better understanding of my new textile business, I suppose I have become overwhelmed. It appears I have overstepped my bounds, so please forgive my forwardness.” He bowed and turned to leave, and Isabel had to clasp her hands to keep herself from reaching out and grabbing his arm.
Thankfully, her father spoke. “Textiles, you say? Perhaps I can be of some help with that.”
Lord Charmain turned and Isabel could see the twinkle in his eye. “A man of business first, I see,” he said with a laugh. “I can see us working together on many deals, if you will have me, of course.”
“Yes,” her father replied. “Yes, to business. And yes to courting my daughter.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Isabel could feel the tension she had not realized had tightened her shoulders release. As the men spoke of business, she listened with only half an ear. Lord Charmain had saved her from a day—and a possible life—of torment, and she would thank him for setting up the ruse, for a ruse it had to be. He could not truly have been interested in her in any other way than to keep her from telling his secret. However, she found he was content with that. At least she would not be forced to allow Lord Smythe to come calling on her.
At one point, her father rose and excused himself, only to return a few moments later and say, “I’m afraid Lord Smythe will not be calling over after all.”
“Lord Smythe?” Lord Charmain asked.
“Nothing with which to concern yourself,” her father said with a wide grin, and immediately returned to the conversation of business.
Isabel could not help but wonder what had happened with the Marquess’s visit, but if it was not to happen, she could not help but feel relief.
/>
After some time, Lord Charmain stood. “I must be on my way soon, but with your permission, I would like to invite Miss St. Clair to join my cousin and me for a leisurely stroll through Green Park next week. If she does not have any other engagements, of course.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” her father replied without asking Isabel. For once, Isabel was grateful he did not wait for her reply.
“Thank you once again for allowing me into your lovely home,” Lord Charmain said. He turned to Isabel. “I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday.”
Isabel nodded. “And I you.” She was unsure what to think of the situation overall, but a feeling of anticipation settled on her as she thought of the stroll they would take. She could not wait to arrive at Elizabeth’s so she could tell her friend all that had transpired this morning!
Chapter Fourteen
The following days passed quickly, and Isabel found herself strolling beside Lord Charmain in Green Park. Though she should have been beside herself with anxiety, she found that the carefully sculptured bushes and the winter landscape created a place of tranquility that relieved her of any unpleasant feelings that once would have followed her. They had spoken very little on their carriage ride over, not because Isabel did not wish to but rather because Miss Miriam sat with her eyes locked on Isabel as if daring her to speak. The woman now walked directly behind them, her distance respectable, though Isabel worried the woman would be listening in on anything she and Lord Charmain said to one another.
“I did not expect you to arrive as you did on Saturday,” Isabel said, breaking the silence. “I wanted to thank you for putting on the charade as you did.”
“Charade?” Lord Charmain asked with a hint of amusement. “I did not put on any charades.”
“Well, we both know you were not on a ship sailing for India,” she said. “And as to the matter of courting…”
“That was no charade,” he interrupted. He came to a stop beneath a large tree, its branches devoid of leaves so late in the year. “The conversations we have had, though few, have been uplifting.”
Isabel wanted to laugh. Uplifting indeed! That was not how she remembered their ‘discussions’.
He seemed sincere, however. “I found myself wanting more of them.”
“Well, regardless, you saved me from enduring the company of Lord Smythe, and for that, I am in your debt. In my letter, I did not ask you to come to my rescue; however, that is exactly what you did.”
He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to have been of service to you.”
She could not help but smile. “And the matter we discussed previously? Have you given it any thought?”
“I have,” he replied as he continued their stroll. “You seem thankful that I helped you, yet I know I made you angry before. Tell me, what can I do to earn your admiration?”
They came to a bench and Lord Charmain indicated the seat, which she took. It gave her time to think as she smoothed out her dress. How interesting that she thought it was she who had angered him! “I must be honest; I worry about the lies you tell, and for those you will undoubtedly tell in the future,” she replied to his question. “The shame that would befall you, the ruin it would bring to your name, if the truth came out would be great indeed.”
He stopped and turned toward her. “Do you worry for me or for yourself?”
Isabel was taken aback for a moment, and she considered his question, for it was plainspoken. “I could say my concern was only for you, but that would be dishonest. Truth be told, I believe I’m concerned for both of us. I am sure you understand that, as a young woman of the gentry, I must conduct myself in a proper manner at all times. I could never bring shame to my parents.”
“I see,” the Baron said before giving a small laugh. “Such as drinking at a pub? Or scurrying through the shadows at night to attend the theater?”
Isabel felt her cheeks heat considerably. Why did this man feel the need to mock her? “I did what was needed to be done, and…” The words to finish that thought would not come to her. What did she need?
“And I do what I need to do,” he said. “My stories of India, my travels, they are all intended to keep people at bay and their noses out of my affairs. I might not be the perfect gentleman you seek, but I am a gentleman despite your arguments to the contrary.” He stopped once again and turned to her. “I have thought a lot about what you said concerning my actions, or rather the words that leave my lips.”
“I did not mean to judge,” she said to ease the pain she saw in his eyes. “Please know that hurting you was never my intention.”
“I realize that. Regardless, your words have caused me to rethink why I do what I do. The question now is, how do I stop it? You must understand that I have created a world that does not exist, so it will not be easy to undo what I have done.” He sighed and then smiled. “Let us leave that discussion for another time. There is another place I wish to take you.”
“Where is that?”
“To the theater.”
“I’m not sure I understand. The play is not in session at the moment, is it? I read it only is presented on specified days, none of which are today.”
“Yes, that is true. However, I wanted to show you why I do what I do.”
Intrigued, Isabel could do nothing but agree. He deserved as much for her treatment of him before. Plus, the idea of seeing the theater from his point of view was intriguing.
***
Exiting the vehicle, Isabel followed the Baron to the alley behind the theater. The alley was wider than most, more than likely allowing for movement of large props and scenery for the various plays that were performed there. She grew nervous as she glanced around. It was one thing to come here at night, but she worried that someone would see her now that it was daylight. She could not hide in the shadows as she had before.
Producing a key, Lord Charmain opened a single door and held it open for Isabel and Miss Miriam. Isabel walked past him, the light coming in from the door illuminating a long hallway. He reached past her to pull the door closed.
“Pardon,” he whispered as his thumb grazed her shoulder, leaving a trail of flames on her skin in its wake.
Her legs weakened and she let out a small gasp as she fell into his arms.
“Miss St. Clair?” he asked with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied, trying to find her breath. “I…stumbled in the dark is all.”
“Allow me,” he said, reaching down and taking her hand in his. “I am so accustomed to walking behind stage without much light, I forget others do not know the way.”
She nodded. Words would not form in her mind let alone be spoken from her lips, for his hand was strong as he led the way. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lower light, weak rays now seen coming through the covered windows. When he removed those coverings, light streamed in, illuminating the stage. The city setting lined the back wall, just as it had the night she and Elizabeth had come to watch the production, but it was strange to see it up close. It did not take away any of the illusion, however, for it had been well-done.
Isabel stared in awe as she walked onto the stage and looked out over the seating area she recognized from the night she and Elizabeth had attended the play. What she saw was quite the spectacle. So, this was the view the performers saw as they recited their lines?
When he released her hand, she missed it almost immediately. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “It is,” she turned to look up at him, “wonderful. I’m not sure why, for I’m simply standing here, but I feel the urge to perform.” She laughed at the absurdity of this, but it was the truth.
“Of course, you do,” he said as if what she said made absolute sense. “This is why the stage exists. Here you can become a daring thief or a noble princess.” He looked out over the seating and spoke as if he were addressing a crowd. “The people will listen, and as the story unfolds, they grow fond of the hero. Or grow to hate the vil
lain. And many,” he turned to face her, “want to be one of those two characters.”
“I can see that,” Isabel said with a smile. “To perform for them would be exhilarating, a way to invite them into your character.”
“And into your heart,” he said. His smile warmed her. “Now, I must ask you, Miss St. Clair, to join in a small production of mine. We shall rehearse it at once.”
Isabel laughed and shook her head. “I am honored, Lord Charmain, but I cannot. I am no actor and would only make a fool of myself.”
He marched over and stopped before her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Nonsense. And please, call me Daniel. We have no need for formalities here in the theater.”
“If you wish,” she said with a giggle.
“Excellent. Now, I will begin.”
“Wait!” she blurted. “I do not know what to do. How can I participate when I do not know the lines?”
He smiled as he dropped his arms to his side. “Speak from the heart, for that is where the best speeches reside.”
Once again, Isabel felt her face heat. “I will,” she agreed. She could not help but be pulled into that atmosphere surrounding her.
He gave her a formal bow and she returned it with a deep curtsy.
“Miss St. Clair,” he called out in that loud theatrical voice as he turned toward the invisible audience, “I must ask your advice, for my soul is deeply troubled.”
Isabel bit down on her lip and wrung her hands. What should she say? What if she said something that made her look foolish? However, Daniel had said she should reach inside herself to find the right words. So that was what she did. “I am here to listen,” she said, trying to make her voice as loud as his. It was not as easy as she had expected and she felt as if she were shouting rather than speaking. Yet, she continued. “Though I must ask you to hurry, for I fear being caught.”
He turned to her. “You? A lady of the ton? Tell me, what does a woman of such beauty fear? There are no more dragons to slay. If one has brought torment, tell me now and I shall slay it.” He bowed again, and Isabel could not help but laugh so hard she stopped trying to hide it.
The Baron's Charade (Regency Stories Book 3) Page 10