Charles lowered his eyebrows. "But I'm afraid using your hand in such a fashion in front of the ton simply won't do."
Isabella shrugged. "Then what should I do?"
"Use a fan, of course."
"You mean an actual fan?"
He nodded. "Precisely. All the ladies use them, and there are certain ways to hold and move them."
Isabella sighed. "Of course there are. I'm guessing I'll need fan lessons next?"
"I'm afraid so. We'll get to it later. Right now, I would like to know more about you. Your heritage and your people."
"There's not much to tell. My mother is a gone and I'm an only child. My father… let's just say he and I aren't speaking. I have friends, of course, but no one close."
He reached for her hand. "But why would that be? Why would someone as beautiful and vibrant as you not have intimate friends?"
"Intimate? I don't have a, uh, man in my life."
He smiled. "Intimate means close. Trusted."
"Oh. Where I'm from, intimate means, well…" Her cheeks reddened.
"Ah, I see." He cleared his throat. "So you have no husband, then. No intended?"
"No." She shrugged again. "Just me."
"With whom do you share your home?"
Isabella frowned. "What do you mean?"
"A woman can't live alone without a chaperone."
"Trust me, Charles, women do it all the time."
He shook his head. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. But you and I will need to come up with something different to tell the ton. May as well give them a story they find believable. There will be fewer questions that way. At least one can hope."
Isabella nodded. "Well, I find a lot of things here fascinating, too."
"Such as?"
"Women here seem to be deemed a lower class than men." She stared pointedly at Charles.
He ran his finger around the inside of his collar. "You know, I think you're right. It is getting warm in here."
Isabella laughed. "Aha! Now I've got you."
Oh, she had possession of his attention, all right. But what he would do about it, he had not the first clue. As attracted to her as he was, she wasn't staying. And even if she did, could she ever be happy here? Things seemed so different from her time and place. He and Isabella were mismatched. Charles' heart felt heavy at the thought.
"All right. What else, Isabella? Surely more fascinates you about 1812 than that."
She frowned. "Well, there are certain things, basic things you don't have, which I'm used to in my time."
He leaned forward. "What things?"
"Electricity for one."
He leaned back again. "Oh there's electricity. I've read about its discovery. That isn't new."
She pointed toward the candle. "But you don't have indoor lighting."
"Indoor? You mean as in this home?"
She nodded.
"Preposterous."
The corners of her mouth curved up. "No, Charles. It's not. Where I live, I flip a switch on the wall and the room lights up."
He opened his eyes wide, as well as his mouth. "Incredible. Amazing."
"Yes, it is. But it's a fact of life for me, as well as listening to music in my house and my car."
"Car?"
"Uh, I guess you'd call it a horseless carriage?"
"How on earth is that possible?"
Isabella shrugged. "There are so many things that have happened since, well, now, that you'd find hard to believe."
He leaned toward her. "Tell me."
"Aside from cars, there are airplanes that fly in the air, and rocket ships fly through space."
He shook his head. "I've read of amazing things in books written from an author's imagination, but to have such things be real… my stars in heaven, I never thought I'd hear the like."
Isabella squeezed his hand. "Now you see why I miss where I'm from. It's so vastly different from here." She sighed. "Also, there's a position where I work that is promised to me. All I have to do is show up for a meeting."
Charles lowered his eyebrows. "I see. And when is this meeting to take place?"
"Right after Christmas. I… it's something I've always wanted. Something I've worked toward ever since I was a young girl."
He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "And what will change for you, once you receive this position?"
Isabella's eyes sparkled. "Total independence."
"I don't understand. Did you not tell me you live alone and work in an office? That you have no husband or intended? Is this not independence?"
She angled her glance away from him. "Ever since I was a little girl, my father has told me I wouldn't amount to anything. You see, he wanted a son and was disappointed. He never let a day go by when he didn't remind me of that fact. He said a woman wasn't good for anything but getting married and having children. I'm determined to prove him wrong. Once I secure this job, I can truly take care of myself financially. Then he'll see I'm worth something."
Charles frowned. "A husband's responsibility is to see to his wife's security and well-being. Here, men are clamoring for wives, someone with whom to share their lives. You could have that with… someone." He'd come so close to saying his own name. He could envision them spending their lives together. Never had he met someone so intelligent, imaginative, and interesting. Not to mention her physical beauty, which stirred him as no other ever had.
Isabella shook her head. "But that's the point, you see? If I depended on a man for my livelihood, then I would have proven my father right. I would have amounted to nothing."
He glanced down at their joined hands, feeling as if any joy he'd ever had, or would ever have, had died. Why would she ever consider staying here when she had all that she'd mentioned waiting for her at home? Obviously her heart's desire resided there. There was no chance for her to stay. No chance for them. His fledgling dream died soon after it was conceived.
Charles gazed upon her beautiful face as he felt his heart breaking. "Yes. I see there would be nothing of value for you here." He opened his hand, letting hers slide away, and then he stood. "If you will excuse me, Lady Isabella, I have some items to which I must attend."
Chapter Four
Izzy sat on the couch, alone. She felt horrible. It had never been her intention to offend or hurt Charles, just to state the fact that she missed many things about her time. The sad look on his face nearly broke her heart. Sighing heavily, she realized, while she did miss those things, she was developing feelings for Charles, which would get in the way of her going home to all of that.
Never in her life had she met a man so attentive, so sweet or polite. Was it because of his upbringing and the time period of his birth, or was it just him? For the first time, she had doubts about the life she'd pictured for so long.
Her father's cutting remarks echoed through her mind. If he hadn't been so cruel to her, would her outlook have been different? Would her life have been more balanced? Achieving her goal of financial independence had been the driving force behind her ambition for so long, she'd excluded the possibility of anything else. Had she missed out on a special relationship with a man in the past because of it? Was she missing out now for something like that with Charles? What if he was her true chance for happiness and she'd ruined it?
Izzy wanted to apologize but couldn't just traipse around the estate trying to find him. If someone saw her, she and Charles would both be in trouble. Where had he gone? All she could do now was wait for him to return and hope he accepted her apology.
Frustrated and needing to put her thoughts elsewhere, she wandered around the room, stopping in front of a tall wooden bookcase. She wondered if Charles was the main reader in the estate, or if his uncle liked to read, too. Izzy ran her finger along the old, cracked spines. Their worn appearance proved some of the books were obvious favorites.
She could picture Charles sitting in this room, leaning against the back of the couch while he perused page after interesting page. From the
ir discussion earlier, he seemed interested in things of the future. He would certainly love certain aspects of her time.
Would any of the staff come here to read? She shook her head. Doubtful. From what she'd observed just in her short time here, there was a definite class distinction. Even if their servants were allowed to use the books, would they even have the time? They seemed to wait on the duke's needs all day and into the night, depending on what was required.
A memory of Sarah looking longingly at the day dresses on the bed caused Izzy to stop. Would the maid ever be able to better her lifestyle? Or was she destined to wait on someone else for her entire life? Izzy was more determined than ever to ask Charles about some of the dresses for Sarah. Something about the younger woman tugged at her heart. Did she have family nearby? Were there any close friends, if there was even any time for them?
The door to the den squeaked as someone pushed it open. Izzy gulped a mouthful of air and hurried to the curtains. Just as she pulled them around her, she recognized Sarah's voice.
"My lady, it's I, Sarah. I've brought the refreshments his grace requested. I was told to address you if you were… indisposed and couldn't come to the door."
Izzy peeked around the fabric. Sarah was alone. She let out a breath, trying to calm her fluttering heartbeat. If it had been anyone besides Sarah or Charles, there would've been major trouble.
"Oh, thank you, Sarah." Inwardly she scolded herself. Even though she wanted to express her gratitude, she needed to remember the servants didn't feel comfortable accepting her thanks.
Sarah curtsied, avoiding eye contact as she set the tray of pastries and tea on the low table by the couch. She roamed her gaze around the room, settling back on Izzy.
Izzy left her hiding place and stepped into the room. "Charles isn't here. He went to…"
"It's of no matter, my lady, what his grace has seen fit to do."
"Oh. Yes. Of course." This wasn't going well. They had to be somewhat close in age, but they were worlds apart. Izzy walked to the couch and sat down, mindful of the folds of the day dress she wore. She patted the couch cushion. "Won't you sit with me?"
Sarah widened her eyes, darting a glance toward the door. She lost much of the color in her face. "Oh, my lady, I—"
Izzy sighed. "I know. It's unseemly, or whatever. But there's something I'd like to ask you." She raised her eyebrows and waited. Sarah hesitated, gave another small curtsy and walked with slow steps to the couch. Izzy patted the cushion once more. "It's all right." She glanced down to the couch and back up. "Please."
"Of course, my lady." Sarah sat down carefully, perching on the edge of the furniture. If she sat any closer to the edge, Izzy would be scraping the maid off the floor.
"Sarah, I'd like to know you a little better."
The maid paled even more. "My lady?"
"Don't worry. You won't get in trouble with Charles. I'd just like to know you better, since it looks as if we may be spending some time together while I'm, well, here."
Sarah's hands trembled, but she nodded. "Yes, my lady."
Izzy pointed toward the bookshelf. "Do you like to read?"
Sarah shook her head. "No, my lady."
"Oh."
Sarah's face reddened. "You see, my lady, I c-can't read."
Izzy tilted her head. "What? Everyone should know how to read."
Sarah shrugged. "Wasn't important in my home. And I left so young to come here…"
"No one had the chance to teach you. Right?"
Sarah nodded.
"Well maybe I can fix that."
Sarah's eyes widened. "My lady?"
Izzy patted the maid's hand. "Leave it to me, Sarah. I have lots of experience with the Study Buddy program in my town."
Sarah frowned. "My lady, Study…"
"Never mind." Izzy chuckled.
****
Charles scrunched his face behind his woolen scarf against the whipping cold December wind. Walking his estate had always helped him sort out his worries. At least it used to. Isabella and all she encompassed produced a problem he couldn't solve. Charles wished her to remain here. She wished to leave. They seemed comfortable together, in tune with each other, which seemed odd under their present circumstances, but Isabella had made quite plain her desires. She wanted to return home to America. In the future. Grasping that concept was difficult even with the time Charles now had behind him in which to consider it.
He guided his steps past the stables. Horses whinnied to each other, as if in greeting, wishing each other 'Good day.' A smile lifted one side of Charles' mouth. Isabella, with her whimsical view of Kitty, would appreciate that. Charles' smile faltered. He couldn't bring her out here to see the horses or anything else. Not yet. No one, save himself and Sarah, must know of her. And no one must discover she resided in his house, an unmarried, non-chaperoned woman, and a foreigner no less. The ton would wag their collective tongues about that, no doubt. No, he must protect Isabella's reputation at all costs.
He walked past the stables, heading back toward the house. As brisk as the temperatures were, his walk would be cut short today. Once near the entrance, he spotted Kitty huddled next to some shrubbery. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing, and even your thick fur won't protect you for long."
Charles scooped up the cat and hurried inside. His walk had shown him at least one truth. He'd been abrupt with Isabella, giving no explanation before leaving her alone in the den. He shook his head and sighed. Not that long ago, he wouldn't have given a thought to someone's feelings who wasn't of his station. Since getting acquainted with Isabella however, his thoughts took a different tack. Why did her opinion of him seem to matter, when no other woman's did?
He kept his brisk pace once inside and carried Kitty to the den where he'd last seen Isabella. Charles knew there were only a couple of places she could be, since she couldn't parade all through the house for anyone to see. Taking Kitty with him had a purpose, one with positive outcomes, he hoped. Maybe if he approached Isabella with the cat while he attempted an apology, she'd be more willing to accept.
He knocked on the door to the den, inching open the wooden door so not to startle her if she were in there. As he peered around the doorframe, he was surprised to see Isabella and Sarah huddled over a book. Isabella's eyes widened, but she seemed to relax when she realized it was he. Sarah, though, gasped, dropped the book, and raced toward him. Charles stepped aside to let her pass. It was all he could do to hold on to Kitty. What in the world was going on?
The door clicked as he eased it closed. He placed a calming hand on the cat, whose tiny heartbeat raced against Charles' shoulder. His animal's reactions had never taken his interest before now, before Isabella, for she would care about something such as that.
He crossed the room and sat next to Isabella. Not sure how to begin his apology, for he wasn't accustomed to giving them often, he handed her the cat. Isabella took Kitty and cuddled the animal on her lap. Once again, Charles envied the feline and her close proximity to Isabella. After he took a deep breath, he plunged ahead.
"Isabella, I owe you an—"
She held up a hand. "No. I think I owe you one."
He widened his eyes. What was this? She felt a need to apologize to him? She'd only stated her wishes. It was he who had taken the matter too much to heart. "But—"
Isabella shook her head, causing her beautiful dark tresses to fall forward over her shoulders. His impulse to reach out to touch her hair was nearly overwhelming. "Charles, I shouldn't have said what I did, like I did. It came out all wrong. Yes, I do miss certain things about my life back home, but I also appreciate what you're doing for me, protecting me and making my stay here comfortable and safe." She glanced away. "And, there are certain things about being here which I find…" She angled back toward him, dark eyes large and lovely. "Quite nice."
Charles scooted nearer, but still left a modest space between them. A sigh escaped Charles' mouth as Isabella held out her hand. He glanced down at their
hands, now joined, and felt his mouth form into a smile. "Oh, Isabella, I'm so pleased to hear you say that. Even though you don't think an apology from me necessary, I must still give one. I was abrupt, leaving as I did, when all you had done was simply state your preference for your time. And truth be told, I found your reference to such time quite enchanting. Being one who loves to read and study about other worlds and times, it caught me by surprise that such things actually do exist."
"I'm so glad we have that behind us, now."
"I'm relieved as well." He tilted his head. "What was happening with Sarah? She nearly knocked me flat when she ran out of the room."
"Oh." Isabella's face reddened. "You may not like this, but I… I'm teaching Sarah to read." She stared at him. Was she gauging his reply?
"I see." He frowned.
"You're angry, aren't you?"
Was he? Even a short time ago, he would have been infuriated with someone coming into his home, taking liberties with his servant. Somehow, though, he found it difficult to refuse Isabella anything.
Charles shrugged. "While in the past, I would not have seen the necessity or appropriateness of teaching a servant to read, I…"
Isabella blinked her beautiful eyes. "You, what?"
"It seems, since you have come to stay, I find myself more open to new ideas about my staff and my home." He darted a glance toward Isabella's other hand, which stroked Kitty's fur. "And my cat."
"Thank you for bringing in Henrietta, since I couldn't go outside to see her."
He frowned. "Who is this man Henry of whom you speak?" Had another man found out she was here? Was Isabella being courted? Charles clenched his fist.
"Henrietta. It's what I'm calling Kitty." She smiled. "Remember, I told you I thought she needed a new name?"
Charles relaxed, flexing his fingers. "But why Henrietta?"
"Well I couldn't name her after the queen, now could I?"
Charles felt one side of his mouth lift. "Yes, quite right. The queen might frown on a marmalade feline carrying her royal name. Henrietta it is, then."
Isabella leaned toward Charles ever so slightly. "Since you're being so generous, I have another request to make."
Time for a Duke Page 4