by Rose Gordon
“I should probably go talk to him,” Isabelle said quietly.
Simon twisted his lips. “I’m fairly certain he’s not too concerned.”
“Oh?”
He put one of the bowls down. “I think he already knows, Isabelle. He’s been watching us all week.”
“He has?”
Simon nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes. He was a little less obvious about it earlier in the week, but now—” He shrugged.
“I probably should talk to him about—” she swallowed— “us.”
A wide smile spread across Simon’s face. “Does that mean—”
“I’m still considering it,” she said carefully before he could embarrass himself or make her embarrass him.
“That’s all I ask.” He ran his hand over the top of the bowl. “All right, let me show you that trick.”
“Right.” She bit her lip. She’d have to make time to talk to Edmund tonight. He’d always been adamant that he wouldn’t force her to accept his suit and that if she found another that he wouldn’t interfere. But she still needed to talk to him. It wasn’t fair that she wasn’t honest with him about her courtship with Simon, as strained as it might be.
“Here, you use this bowl,” Simon said suddenly, extending the bowl in her direction.
Isabelle took the bowl from him, catching a quick glimpse of where Sebastian was peeking his head out from around the hedge again, frowning. She knit her brows. What did he have to be unhappy about?
“Grip the bowl like this,” Simon said. He gripped the bowl in a way that didn’t look any different than how she’d done, so she mirrored the action. “Good. Now...”
Behind Simon a good twenty feet, Sebastian emerged from between the two hedges and cupped his hands as if he were holding a bowl, then moved his arm back, lowered his hand and pretended to bowl.
“All right, try it,” Simon said, breaking into her thoughts.
Isabelle licked her lips. She hadn’t heard a single word he’d said other than how to grip the bowl. “Can you show me again?”
In the background, Sebastian came closer to them, shaking his head without ceasing and making the same bowling motion.
Without thinking, Isabelle sent her bowl rolling forward in a direction completely opposite of where the jack was.
Simon was speechless.
Sebastian gave her a nod of approval from where he stood not ten feet away.
Simon handed her his bowl and said something about going to get the other bowl.
Sebastian’s eyes went wide and he shook his head.
Instinctively, Isabelle reached her free hand out to stay Simon, shocking them both.
Sebastian looked relieved. He gave her another nod and made a slow retreat back to the safety of his hedge.
“Why don’t we just use this one?” Isabelle suggested around the giant bubble that had just formed in her throat. Share the bowl? She willed herself not to shudder at the thought of him touching her. It wasn’t that she found him disagreeable exactly, but she still wasn’t sure she wanted to marry him and if someone suspected his helping her was inappropriate they’d be announced within a trice.
“No, it’ll be easier if we each have our own,” Simon said, pulling himself away from her hold.
Sebastian lifted his eyes heavenward and threw his hands into the air, then disappeared behind the hedge.
“Have you seen Sebastian?”
Isabelle almost jumped out of her skin, if such a thing were possible. She wasn’t sure if she was more surprised that Giles knew his friend was here or that he’d crept up on her that way. She turned to face him and nearly laughed. He looked all out of sorts. “Are you all right?”
Giles nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“A-all right.” She felt Simon come up behind her, bringing a sense of discomfort over her. “Just a minute ago,” she said in answer to his original question, then she pointed toward the hedge.
Giles nodded his understanding. “Simon,” he greeted, bobbing his head in the man’s direction before walking toward the hedge.
“What the devil is he doing?” Simon muttered, staring at his brother’s retreating form.
In spite of the oddness of the entire situation, a bubble of laughter built up in Isabelle’s chest. “We should probably go back inside.”
Simon gave her a grateful look. “Indeed. Perhaps we can find someone who’d like to play cards.”
***
Isabelle wasn’t sure if it was to her good fortune or fate trying to torture her that the only people interested in playing cards were Edmund and Lady Vessey.
“Have a seat by me, dear,” Lady Vessey said.
Isabelle and Edmund exchanged looks. Clearly neither of them knew who she was referring to as ‘dear’.
“Why don’t you sit by Lady Vessey,” Edmund said, the tips of his ears pink.
Isabelle lowered herself into the chair next to Lady Vessey and smoothed her skirts while Edmund and Simon took their prospective seats across from them.
“Whist?” Edmund said, shuffling the cards.
“Ooooh, you know I adore Whist,” Lady Vessey said with a clap of her hands.
Edmund coughed and Simon grinned.
Edmund shuffled to his satisfaction then dealt the cards. Isabelle picked hers up and stared at them. She didn’t know the rules and hoped someone would be kind enough to explain them.
“Oh, can I go first, Edmund?” Lady Vessey asked, a smile curving her lips.
Edmund’s eyes widened, then narrowed and darkened. Then he swallowed.
Isabelle stared at the pair. The game, or at least the rules, didn’t appear to be very important any longer. It was without question that Lady Vessey was flirting with Edmund, and if the way Lady Vessey’s full skirt was moving was any indication, the flirtations weren’t just above the table!
“I think that’d be permissible,” Edmund practically barked.
Lady Vessey made a little sound of satisfaction and picked up a card from the facedown pile, then took one of her others and put it on the table. Edmund wordlessly made a similar action, his eyes fastened on the cards in his hands and his jaw tight. Simon was next. He also selected a card from the down-faced pile and immediately put it back on the table.
Isabelle bit her lip and did the same thing she’d seen the others do, not paying attention to what she’d picked up or put down.
All four took another turn.
Then another.
Nobody said anything, but looks were enough. Lady Vessey kept peeking over at Edmund under lowered lashes; Edmund kept his eyes fixed on his cards even when it wasn’t his turn, but the fire burning in his eyes was still visible; Simon’s expression was the most difficult to interpret. At one moment it looked like he was about to boil over with nervous discomfort, then a second later, he almost looked sympathetic for some reason.
Isabelle shook off the thought and reached forward to retrieve her next card when suddenly something large and warm that felt decidedly like a stocking-covered foot landed right on top of her slipper. Blushing, she licked her suddenly dry lips and plucked up her card. She put the one she’d just picked up in line with the others in her hand and held them in front of her like a fan. She looked over the top of her cards at Simon. She narrowed her eyes on him. She’d assumed that their companions were touching feet under the table, but it didn’t mean that she and Simon needed to do it, too.
In fact, while it would seem that Lady Vessey seemed to like the exchange, Isabelle didn’t. His foot was heavy and it might just be her perception, but it almost felt moist. She clenched every muscle in her body to keep from shuddering, then wiggled her toes and tried to pull her foot back. It didn’t budge.
“You need to play a card, dear,” Lady Vessey reminded her.
Isabelle grabbed the one on the end and tossed it on the table without a second thought, then narrowed her eyes on Simon and began wiggling her toes, making sure to really push up with her big toe so he could feel it in his arch
and release his heavy hold.
No such luck.
She pressed her lips together. Truly, having his foot on top of hers was most unsettling. It was mildly uncomfortable a moment ago, but now it was really bothering her. She clenched her jaw and lifted her eyebrows, suppressing the urge to make an unladylike noise though she was very much so tempted.
Simon’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and he shouted something, but his foot stayed firmly in place.
“Well, show us your cards!” Lady Vessey, said throwing hers down on the table.
“My cards?” Isabelle laid them out for everyone to see: a three, a jack, a six, and a king.
“That’s not a trick!” Lady Vessey exclaimed.
“A trick?”
“I thought you had a trick and were trying to give me the signal,” Simon said with a shrug.
She had no idea what he was talking about and handed her cards back to Edmund, noting the unusual look in his eye.
Edmund handed the cards to Simon. “Care to shuffle, Appleton?”
Simon took the cards and scooted his chair back from the table a few inches. Odd the foot stayed firmly in place.
Isabelle was certain her eyes had nearly just bulged, and Edmund’s slight grin confirmed they had indeed. His lowered lashes confirmed Isabelle’s other suspicion: it was his foot! Why the devil was his foot on top of hers when Lady Vessey was so openly flirting with him? Surely he didn’t think to try to reassure Isabelle that he still planned to keep his earlier promise by...by...such an indecent gesture!
She caught his gaze and gave her head a slight shake, not enough to draw anyone’s attention, but enough to tell him she wanted him to stop this nonsense. He didn’t. In fact, he was the one now moving his toes. She could feel them rubbing her ankle. It took every ounce of control she possessed over her body not to cast up her accounts or run screaming from the room. There was one thing that was indisputable: she was going to have to ring for a bath tonight.
Simon finished shuffling the cards and began dealing.
“Perhaps before we begin, the two of you should work out a better signal,” Lady Vessey suggested.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine, my lady,” Edmund said, killing any hope that Isabelle was about to get a reprieve from his daring foot. As if to make sure of it, Edmund quickly drew a card to start.
Simon shrugged and waited to take his turn.
“Say, you don’t mind if we join you, do you?” Giles asked from the door. Without waiting for an answer, he walked in and took a seat in one of two vacant chairs by the window.
Behind him, Sebastian sauntered in, creating a wave of unease completely unrelated to the sweaty, unwanted foot on top of hers. What was he doing here? She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking that very question as he made his way to the chair next to Giles.
“We’ll play the winner,” Sebastian said.
“That should be amusing,” Lady Vessey said, licking her lips.
Everyone took their turn and it was time for Isabelle to go. She picked up the top card and quickly dropped it on the table without even bothering to look at the cards in her hand.
“Dropped like a lady who knows what she wants,” Sebastian commented.
Isabelle stiffened. Was he mocking her? Surely it hadn’t escaped his notice just whose foot it was on top of hers under the table. Her skirts were full, but from where he sat, he had an unobstructed profile view of where everyone’s feet were positioned under the table. Did he think it was amusing that both Simon and Edmund were showing her affections, of a different variety of course? “If I know it’s not the one I’m looking for, there’s no reason to hold onto it.” A smile pulled on her lips. “You might recognize that tactic, I did learn it from you after all.”
Silence encompassed the room as the impact of the words she’d just spoken rocked Isabelle to the core.
Lady Vessey seemed to be the only one who didn’t seem to understand her meaning other than perhaps a superficial game tactic and she took her turn.
Edmund sat still a moment longer as a shadow passed over his eyes. He reached forward to grab his card, simultaneously removing his foot from Isabelle’s.
Isabelle would have sighed with relief, if not for the inner tension that had recently gripped her and held her captive. If Sebastian dared to come to her room tonight she was going to brain that man and she’d use the Bible if she must to do it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was everything Sebastian could do to keep an impassive face as he watched the players at the card table—particularly Belle. She was rather fetching when she was unsettled. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t here to think of how fetching Belle was to him. He’d agreed to help her find a suitable husband and that’s what he needed to be concerned with. Not what she did to him.
Beside him, Giles let out a deep exhale and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling as he was often wont to do when there was nothing else in the room that interested him.
Sebastian would have to send the man an entire barrel of whisky after this party to show his appreciation for Giles allowing him to join without permission from Lady Cosgrove. Come to think of it, that was probably enough of a token of appreciation in itself since Giles was no longer expected to sit in the drawing room with a gaggle of debutantes. Or his mother. Apparently that was another caveat of this party, Giles’ mother, though not a very prominent and engaged guest, had taken to coercing Giles to spend time with her whenever she could manage it.
At the card table, the game continued. Cards, that is, not the game that had previously been being played under the table. Odd. When had Lord Kenton retracted his foot? No matter. Hopefully it was enough of a hint for Belle to become daring enough to try the same tactic with Simon.
Or not.
She stared at her cards in a way that might suggest they held the answer to some secret riddle. Her feet both firmly planted on the floor in front of her. What he wouldn’t give to understand the workings of her mind. Did she not understand now was a prime opportunity to capture Simon with her wiles?
His gaze shifted to Simon. If it were possible, he looked even more unsettled than Belle. What the devil— Giles. Blast it all, he hadn’t thought of that. Actually, this was probably the best time for Belle to distract the man and capture his attention.
Sebastian cleared his throat.
Belle ignored him and took her turn.
He cleared it again. Louder this time.
She cast him a scowl over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to the game.
Not so easily put off, Sebastian put his fist to his mouth and prepared his body for the internal abuse it was about to take at the account of Belle’s stubbornness and his will to capture her attention. Cough, cough, cough. Hack! Hack! Hack! With his free hand he started banging his open palm against his chest. Cough, cough! Hack, hack!
“Choking on a biscuit over there, Belgrave?” Lord Kenton asked.
Sebastian shook his head. Cough, cough. Blast it all, now his coughs were genuine!
A firm hand smacked him on the back, startling him to silence.
“You’re welcome,” Giles muttered.
Sebastian looked over to Belle. She was staring right at him, scowling. Good. Not the scowl, of course, she needed to get rid of that post haste. He cocked his head to the side and shot an overdone smile at her.
She pursed her lips.
He lifted his eyebrows and stretched his smile wider.
Her nostrils flared and it was all he could not to laugh.
He sent a pointed look to Simon, still smiling like a simpleton.
The corners of her lips pulled apart in a smile that rivaled a grimace, but now wasn’t the time to point that out. He nodded his approval, then crossed his ankles and tapped the sides of his boots together.
Her smile vanished and she gave him a quick shake of her head as if to say, “Absolutely not!”
He nodded slowly and looked back over at Simon.
Scowlin
g at him once more, she turned her eyes away from him to pay attention to the game.
Sebastian knocked his boots together again.
Belle seemed not to notice.
Sebastian hated to be an annoyance, but he wasn’t above it. He lifted his fist back up to his lips and cleared his throat, a warning.
Belle swallowed visibly and slid her slippered foot closer to her suitor’s, stopping merely an inch away.
A little further. But she didn’t move it further, prompting Sebastian to clear his throat once more.
“Perhaps you should pour yourself a drink,” Lady Vessey suggested.
“Indeed,” Belle agreed, a genuine smile turning her lips.
Sebastian knocked his boots together—his last warning.
Belle licked her lips and reached for her card, simultaneously lifting her foot and bringing it down on top of Simon’s.
The young buck’s entire body jerked and eyes lit up as if he were truly startled. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he murmured. Then as if he’d just solved a complex equation, said, “Trick!”
***
Isabelle didn’t know who she wanted to brain more: Simon or Sebastian. She didn’t have the trick, whatever that was.
“I don’t think she has the trick, old chap,” Sebastian said easily, pulling a chair up to the table. He took a seat. “Would anyone object if I help Miss Knight?” When nobody spoke within a half-second after the words were out of his mouth, he tossed her cards toward Simon, saying, “Why don’t we start this hand over.”
Twisting his lips, Simon collected everyone’s cards and shuffled.
Meanwhile, the insufferable man Isabelle had once foolishly been excited to be eloping to Gretna Green with moved his chair even closer to her.
“Must you sit so close?” she all but hissed.
“If I’m to help you, I must,” he said, the gleam in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t just talking about cards and for a reason she couldn’t explain, the understanding sent her body into a panic.
“I don’t need help.”
“Yes, you do,” Sebastian said.
Trying to ignore the flames that were now licking her face, she turned her attention to Edmund who for some reason was dealing. He, too, had a different gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t dangerous or predatory as the one she’d glimpsed earlier. It was almost what she’d classify as knowing. Good gracious. Was it possible that he could see that Sebastian unsettled her? She frowned. No, Sebastian didn’t unsettle her. His closeness did. There was a difference.