"Did you say something?" she asked.
Lord Francis laughed. "I have now addressed three unexceptionable comments about the weather to you, Miss Paley. You did not respond to any of them. Do you find my choice of topics tedious?"
Isobel smiled slightly at his absurd tone. "Not at all, sir. I am afraid that I was pondering a new plan for plantings around the folly. I am sorry to be so rude."
"A new plan for the folly!" exclaimed Lord Francis. "You must not tell Lord Glencairn under any circumstances! The poor man is already torn between so many ideas that he cannot in any way make up his mind. I fear something new to ponder may give him a fever of the brain."
"Then I will on no account tell him," said Isobel, with a laugh. "I would not want to bring ill health on a neighbor as considerate as Lord Glencairn."
"He is a very kindly man," said Lord Francis. "I am glad I have come to know him better these past weeks. Have you noted his partiality for Miss Walcott? They are becoming fast friends."
"No, are they?" said Isobel. "I am afraid I have been so wrapped up in the folly and—-and other things that I have spent little time with Harriet of late."
"Perhaps you spend less time with her because Lord Glencairn spends more," said Lord Francis. "He is very interested in your cousin, I believe."
Isobel was diverted. It had been fixed in her mind for some years now that Harriet was an immutable spinster.
"If he is interested, there is good reason," she said. "Harriet is the soul of kindness and consideration."
"She has always been very good to me, for which I am grateful," said Lord Francis.
Their steps had brought them to a lovely promontory overlooking a small glen. A gentle stream wound down the middle of it, and cottages nestled under pine trees, looking doll‑like from the distance. Some thoughtful person had placed a bench so that the view could be enjoyed in comfort, and Lord Francis drew Isobel towards it.
"Come, let us enjoy this lovely sight," he said. "I find the prospects in Scotland to be finer than most in England."
Isobel allowed herself to be seated on the bench somewhat reluctantly. She was not quite comfortable being alone with Lord Francis. The man had an effect on her that she did not always like. "You slight your own country, sir," she observed, rather archly.
"Not at all," said Lord Francis. "My paternal great‑grandmother was a Scotswoman, and I therefore have the right to claim the views of Scotland as my own."
A moment of silence reigned as they admired the valley before them.
"It is quite lovely," said Isobel in a strained tone. "But I believe I must continue on my way to Glencairn. The folly must not be kept waiting."
"If I might beg a moment more of your time, Miss Paley, I would speak with you," said Lord Francis.
Isobel turned towards him, a worried look in her green eyes. Lord Francis' face appeared almost stern, and she attempted to dispel the serious atmosphere with a light comment.
"You cannot possibly have more to say about the folly!" she exclaimed. "I vow I dream of that wretched building at night."
"No, it is not about the folly that I wish to speak, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis. "Surely you must have some idea of what it is I long to say?"
Isobel felt her heart beating uncomfortably fast, but feigned a lack of interest. "Not at all, sir," she said. "I cannot take it upon myself to guess your thoughts."
Lord Francis possessed himself of one of her delicate hands. "Then I will relieve your curiosity," he said with a glimmer of a smile. "Surely you are aware that my feelings towards you have not changed since our time in London and that I continue to hold you in great esteem."
Isobel turned pink and looked away. "I had hoped that this was behind us, my lord. I believe I gave you a firm response at the time."
"Yes, you did," said Lord Francis. "Very firm. I was at first quite hurt, and did try to forget my emotions. And yet, I could not help thinking that there was more behind your refusal than a dislike for my person."
Isobel felt utterly helpless. That another declaration was approaching she could not doubt, and that it was not completely unwelcome she was reluctantly aware. Yet she could not reveal to Lord Francis the true reasons behind her inevitable refusal.
"Lord Francis, you must be aware that I do not dislike you personally..." she ventured and found that she could not continue.
"I am glad to hear that from your own lips, though I have believed for some time that you are not indifferent to me. Your refusal led me, Miss Paley, to search out possible reasons for your reluctance to wed. I believe I may have discovered the reason."
Isobel's eyes, which had been inspecting the folds of her skirt, flew to his face. "What reason might that be, my lord?" she asked.
"Why, that you are a scholar of peculiar merit, Miss Paley. That you are none other than Marcus Paley himself."
Isobel gasped. Her free hand rose to her throat, then dropped back down to her lap. She managed a brittle laugh.
"Surely you are jesting, Lord Francis," she said. "I find this sort of humor in questionable taste at a moment like this."
"Why, I am not jesting at all. I believe you cannot deny it, Miss Paley. I have researched carefully the writings and background of Marcus Paley, and while I did not find him, his path leads unerringly to your door."
"It is quite impolite of you to tease me like this, Lord Francis. Perhaps you are exacting your revenge for my refusal of your suit, but I would not have thought you would be so mean‑spirited," said Isobel. Her anger was rising rapidly.
"You misunderstand me, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for the works of Marcus Paley. That you might be the source of them should not surprise me, knowing the many talents you possess, and I take only pleasure in this notion."
Isobel looked up at him, amazement on her face. "Do you mean to say that if I were indeed Marcus Paley, you would not find such activities unladylike?"
"Mayhap they are unladylike," said Lord Francis. "And yet I cannot bring myself to object to them. I find such interests to be of greater merit than the pursuit of fashionable gowns and hats and the flattery of gentlemen." He reached into his pocket and, producing the Roman coins he had confiscated in the library at Ballydendargen Cottage, pressed them into her hand.
Isobel was speechless. She could not believe that she was hearing a man of the ton saying that he did not find it repellent that she should indulge her passion for archaeology. Her brother was the only gentleman who was aware of her interests, and he made it very clear that he thought she was quite mad and that no respectable man would marry her unless she gave them up.
Lord Francis laughed. "I see I have amazed you, Miss Paley, no mean feat in itself. And now, allow me to once again ask for your heart and your hand. I will happily wed both Miss Isobel Paley and Mr. Marcus Paley, and I trust that we can make a happy home of it."
As Isobel gazed at him in wonder, he leaned forward and placed his lips gently on hers. When she did not resist, he took her in his arms, and his kiss deepened, claiming her lips with greater urgency. She felt the strength in his arms and the steady beat of his heart against hers. The embrace was warm and exciting, and her scattered thoughts were immediately wrested from her surprise at his declaration and fixed on more urgent matters. The sensation she was feeling was unknown to her, but it was far from unpleasant. She gave herself up to it for a moment, a flush of heat flooding her body, and creating a havoc within her which carried her far away from the rustic bench and everything except the man who held her so close.
That gentleman, in turn, was utterly captivated by Isobel's gentleness and warmth. Her confusion only made her more adorable to him, as he felt that at last the self‑possessed Society woman had become vulnerable. Finally, he thought, he had found the key to her heart. He released her lips and drew her close to him, bringing her head to rest upon his shoulder.
"My darling," he said. "When shall we be wed? I would have it be as soon as possible; I want al
l the world to know of the love I have for you."
Isobel, nestling on his shoulder, heard his words as though in a trance. He knew that she was Marcus Paley and did not care. He meant to allow her to continue her studies. How everyone would be amazed. Her brother, of course, would be unable to believe that Lord Francis would overlook her intellectual achievements, but others would be pleased for her, such as Harriet and Letitia.
Isobel's eyes flew open at the thought. How could she have forgotten Letty, with her sad letter even now resting in her reticule? Letitia must have felt like this once. Isobel could remember the glow in her eyes and the sweetness of her smile when she had informed Isobel of her engagement to Lord Morgan. He had beyond a doubt made countless promises to Letitia, but had broken them all. Would Lord Francis remember what he promised her today? Did he even mean them as he said them, or was it just a trap?
Isobel raised her head and looked up into Lord Francis' face. She saw only joy in his eyes, and for a moment she hesitated. Then he lowered his head to kiss her again and she turned her head.
"Let go of me," she said in a low voice.
"What is it, dear heart?" asked Lord Francis.
"I said, let go of me," said Isobel more loudly. Her voice trembled slightly as she said the words, but she gained courage with the sound. "I cannot marry you."
Lord Francis removed his arms from about her, but retained a hold on her hand. "What nonsense is this, Isobel? I have told you that I do not care what your interests are, as long as I am one of them. What more can you want of me?"
"And how am I to be sure that you mean what you say, my lord?" said Isobel. "Your promises are sweet when you seek to lure me into marriage, but what confidence can I have in them?"
Lord Francis looked very puzzled, and mildly annoyed. "Isobel, what reason do you have to doubt me? Have I ever given you cause to think that I would not keep my word?"
Isobel snatched her hand from his and stood up. "I have no more reason to trust your word than any other man's," she said. "You may say these things today and forget them as easily once I am safely tied to you and can no longer speak for myself. Or perhaps you merely say them to gain my agreement to wed you, without meaning them at all. All too many women have found themselves in a sorry situation for having loved a man."
Lord Francis stood and looked at her in bewilderment. "Isobel, would I have come all this way to Scotland to be with you, or have scoured England over for Marcus Paley, if I merely wanted to entrap you into marriage for some nefarious reason of my own? There are any number of women who would marry me without my having to go to such lengths. I ask you to marry me because I love you and cherish you and wish to share your life and interests."
"Pretty words, my lord," said Isobel. "But I cannot trust in them. I will not hand myself over, body and soul, to someone else's care. I have seen the effect that can have."
"What is this silliness about having seen women maltreated by men? Who do you know that has ever been so hurt by her husband? Surely no one of our acquaintance has used their wife so," said Lord Francis.
"So you would think, my lord, being willing to look no further than the end of your nose," said Isobel sharply. Either the man was lying or he was so blind that he did not realize his own friend was destroying Letty's life. Either way, she thought his behavior reprehensible. "I have seen it at very close quarters, and it is not pleasant. I will not put myself in the way of being so used."
Lord Francis took a step closer to her. "Isobel, I am hurt that you should doubt me. Who do you know that is in such dire straits that you should take it so to heart?"
Isobel turned her head away and did not answer.
"Is it Lady Morgan?" asked Lord Francis. "She is the only friend of yours I can think of who has spent much time away from her husband."
Isobel turned on him, anxious to draw his attention away from Letty. "It does not matter who it is, or even if there is such a person," she said sharply. "You presume that I will marry you simply because you patronize me by saying you do not mind my studies. You say that now, but when we are some years wed and have children, you will think your comfort of much more value than my work, and then I will be expected to leave my desires to follow yours! I will not be so bound."
Lord Francis stepped back, an angry look on his face. "If you think so poorly of me, then I have no doubt we would not deal together well, ma'am. I have twice offered you my heart with all sincerity and you have spurned it; I will not give you another opportunity."
"I do not want one," said Isobel, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. "You are like all men, thinking that women want nothing more than to be at your side." She turned sharply and marched up the path towards Dargenwater Cottage, her head held high. Unfortunately for the effect she wished to create, she stepped on a rock and twisted her ankle. She felt a sharp pang, and she found herself sprawled inelegantly on the grass gasping in pain.
Lord Francis hurried to her side.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
Isobel felt ready to cry from pain and irritation. "I am fine, I am sure, Lord Francis," she said in as dignified a manner as possible.
Despite his annoyance with Isobel, Lord Francis could not resist a smile at the absurdity of the situation. "Allow me to assist you," he said politely, offering his hand.
Isobel had no choice but to clasp it and to allow him to raise her to her feet. Upon standing she felt very dizzy, and it was plain that she would be unable to walk for some time.
"You must be taken home and tended to," said Lord Francis. "I imagine a doctor should be fetched to examine the ankle."
"It is not that serious," said Isobel. "I will simply rest a few moments and then walk back to Dargenwater Cottage. There is no need for you to wait, Lord Francis."
"On the contrary, I would be the veriest villain to abandon you at such a moment," said Lord Francis. "I think it would be best to take care of your ankle as soon as possible. It is probably not broken, but I do not doubt it is sprained. I will carry you home."
"You certainly will not!" said Isobel sharply. She could think of nothing more appalling than being carried in the arms of a man whose proposal of marriage she had twice rejected, particularly when that suitor was not unattractive to her.
"I cannot leave you here alone, and we cannot wait until you can walk, Miss Paley. This is not the time to be missish. I believe that, despite the odd circumstances, we can contrive to be civil to one another for the few minutes this will require."
With these words Lord Francis advanced upon her and picked her up. Isobel drew in her breath to feel herself held tightly against his chest, her face on a level with his lordship's. She could see quite clearly the fine blonde hair lying against his pale skin and the muscle twitching in the corner of his jaw. His warm breath stirred against her cheek and she could feel his heart beat as she was pressed lightly against his muscular chest. She closed her eyes.
"Are you feeling faint, Miss Paley?" asked Lord Francis.
Isobel opened her eyes quickly. "Of course not, Lord Francis. This concern of yours is quite unnecessary. I would soon be able to walk, if you would simply wait."
"We cannot be sure of that, ma'am," said Lord Francis. He began to walk down the road towards Dargenwater Cottage. It was apparent to Isobel that her weight was no burden to him; he carried her lightly and with little effort.
Neither of them spoke at first, but after some minutes Lord Francis apparently felt the need to converse.
"While I realize that the subject must be painful to you, Miss Paley, I must return to our earlier topic of conversation. It is quite clear to me that it is not my person you find objectionable, but rather some idea you have of the state of marriage. While your brother is not a scintillating individual, it is clear that his marriage is a happy one, and, from all I have heard, your parents made a love match. From whence comes this abhorrence of matrimony?"
"It is not at all fair of you to question me on this subject, Lord Francis," said Isobel.
"I am quite at your mercy."
"Do not come the frail female, Miss Paley," said Lord Francis, a touch of humor in his voice. "I am afraid I know you rather too well to believe such nonsense from your lips."
"Perhaps you do," said Isobel ruefully. "You have every reason to know me to be most unretiring in my behavior."
"I am not interested in retiring behavior," observed Lord Francis. "Else I would never have been interested in you. Come, Miss Paley, I believe you owe it to me to be honest. What has caused this conviction of yours that if you marry me I will turn into some sort of ogre?"
"I do not believe you to be a monster, Lord Francis, though I have some doubts as to your acquaintances," said Isobel. "I am simply reluctant to turn myself over to another's care and thereby extinguish my existence in the eyes of the world."
"Is that not a rather extreme view?" asked Lord Francis.
"Not at all," said Isobel. "I have had some reason to discuss this with my solicitor and I have found the law is quite firm on the subject."
"And why have you been discussing such an unusual topic with your man of business?" asked Lord Francis.
"There are certain matters which are not mine to share," said Isobel.
Lord Francis gave her a shrewd look. "I see that there is yet another mystery to unravel," he said. "You are certainly a complex woman, Miss Paley."
"There is nothing here more complex than my simple desire to remain independent, Lord Francis," said Isobel. "Pray, do not worry about me any longer. I believe I have made my feelings on this matter very clear."
The pair now approached Dargenwater Cottage, and Lord Francis strode up to the door and rapped on it sharply. A surprised servant opened the door and Lord Francis carried her over the threshold in his arms.
"Fetch Miss Harriet," he said sharply. "I will take Miss Paley into the morning room. She has injured her ankle."
The servant scurried away, and Lord Francis carried Isobel into the room and laid her on the couch. She raised herself to a seated position and gave a small laugh.
The Secret Bluestocking: Isobel's Traditional Regency Romance Page 19