Midnight Scandals (41 page)

“No, please don’t blame yourselves,” Ralston hastened to reassure her. “You are not in the least responsible for how I acted.”

“I hope you did not suspect Mrs. Englewood of actually using you as a substitute,” said Lord Fitzhugh. “She is incapable of that kind of pretense. In fact, she is incapable of any kind of pretense.”

“I am afraid I forgot that entirely when I left in a blaze of theatrics. And now—” He glanced in the direction of the Lakehead, his heart constricting with the disappointment he must have caused her.

“Courage, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” said Lord Fitzhugh. “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

Ralston exhaled. “Then may I ask a favor, sir? May I ask that you come with me, just for a few minutes, so that Mrs. Englewood can see that I have made peace with our resemblance? Your presence would make for a better testimony than my words alone.”

Lord Fitzhugh studied him for a few seconds, then smiled. “It will be my great pleasure, sir.”

I
SABELLE STARED AT THE BOTTLE
of claret as she trailed her fingers over the bouquet of white lilies and purple acanthus that had been delivered at the same time. They could have come from no one else. Did this mean—she didn’t dare let herself complete the thought.

The sun had begun its descent to the horizon. A golden light suffused the sitting room. She lifted the bottle to the light, turning it this way and that, and watched it sparkle.

A knock came at her door. Her heart raced. Ralston. What would he say to her? What would she say to him?

In the end, she said something she could not have predicted. “Fitz!”

He smiled. “Isabelle.”

She smiled back at him. Dear, old Fitz. She hadn’t been entirely certain before, but now, face to face, she realized they would always remain friends. “Come in. Shall I ring for some—”

Fitz had not come alone. Next to him stood— 

“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she said stiffly.

“Mrs. Englewood,” he returned a soft greeting.

An apologetic one.

Part of her was inwardly running about and screaming at his reappearance; another part of her saw red. She narrowed her eyes, but stepped back and let them in.

“Is Lady Fitzhugh well?” she asked Fitz, ignoring Ralston, while at the same time being acutely aware of his windswept hair and sun-reddened cheeks—he had been outside all this time.

“She is very well. She sends her regards.” Fitz watched them with restrained amusement.

Ralston hadn’t taken his eyes off her since his return—her anger was beginning to be perforated by a rising giddiness. She continued to ignore him. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, Fitz, but my children demolished the honey from Lady Fitzhugh’s lavender fields.”

“She will be delighted to hear that—and you have just assured Hyacinth and Alexander each of a lifetime supply of lavender honey.”

“They will be gorging themselves silly.” She touched her hand to his elbow. “Will you stay a while? Louise is at her bath. I’m sure she would like to see you too.”

“And I her. Lady Fitzhugh and I will gladly call on her tomorrow, but for now—” He glanced at Ralston. “For now Mr. Fitzwilliam would probably like a few minutes of your time. He sought me out, hoping to show you that he is more than comfortable in my presence and most certainly does not see himself as a stand-in of any sort, for anyone.”

“Well, it took him long enough,” she said testily.

Fitz returned a pat on her elbow. “I will see myself out. Lady Fitz is waiting with bated breath to learn how Mr. Fitzwilliam’s apology turns out.”

“If you leave now, then you will not know how the apology turns out.”

“It is a rare and superior man who not only admits his mistakes but seeks actively to make amends. I have every confidence that Mr. Fitzwilliam’s apology will go over very well.”

“Hmm,” said Isabelle.

Fitz laughed softly, kissed her on the cheek, and shook Ralston’s hand. “I shall come bearing jars of honey, next time I call on Doyle’s Grange.”

“C
APITAL FELLOW,” SAID
R
ALSTON
.

Before Isabelle could glare at him, the door opened and in came Louise.
Her
glare was far more awe-inspiring: If Isabelle could throw daggers with a look, then Louise launched broad swords with hers.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” she demanded.

“I’ve come to apologize for my conduct earlier today. And I hope for your forgiveness, Mrs. Montrose—and Mrs. Englewood’s,” he said, not sheepishly, but gracefully, with both humility and dignity.

Louise, however, seemed to take no notice of his remarkable demeanor. “And why should I forgive you? You led my sister to believe that you cared for her. Then, at the least appearance of an obstacle, you ran away, not only injuring her, but humiliating her before her family.”

Isabelle opened her mouth to protest. Surely, there was no need to go so far in castigating him.

“I agree that my actions were deplorable. There is no excuse. But if you would allow me to give a
reason,
then it is this: I love Mrs. Englewood. I love her to the depth and breadth of my soul.”

Isabelle sucked in a breath.

“But whereas earlier I’d thought my affection returned in full,” he went on, “the sight of Lord Fitzhugh filled me with doubts.”

“You insult my sister with your doubts.”

“Louise—” Isabelle protested.

Louise held up a hand. “My sister, who is not only beautiful, but candid and loyal. And you treated her as if she were a liar and manipulator.”

“That is not true, Mrs. Montrose. I never thought for a moment that she exploited
me
. What I did wonder was whether she had deceived herself. But of course she hadn’t. She had been honest both with me and with herself.”

He was still speaking to Louise, but he looked directly at Isabelle. “I know I have made a hash of things. I know I deserve any punishment she deigns to mete out. But I also know that I love her more than ever, that my doubts, when vanquished, only strengthened my faith in her.”

The beauty and utter conviction of his words made her dizzy.

Even Louise’s voice softened, though her next question was no less pointed. “Pretty words. But every Tom, Dick and Harry will still think that you are a replacement for Fitz—and some of them will tell you so to your face. What will you do then?”

“Take my own advice and chortle. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, as long as Mrs. Englewood and I know the truth of our hearts.”

“I don’t know about—”

“That’s enough, Louise,” Isabelle said quietly. “Mr. Fitzwilliam made a mistake. He has apologized. I am more than pleased to accept his apology—let us not harp on him anymore.”

Her sister not only did not object, she smiled. “Good. I was beginning to run out of shrewish things to say. No, no, don’t look so surprised, Isabelle. Mr. Fitzwilliam deserved a good dressing down, but he also deserves credit for an apology properly done. I gave him the dressing down, you come to his defense, and now all is well.”

Isabelle was still agog as Louise hugged her. “I will expect Mr. Fitzwilliam to join us for dinner tonight.” Louise lowered her voice. “But afterwards, I will once again pretend not to notice that you have slipped out.

“I
S IT TRUE YOU HAVE ACCEPTED
my apology?” asked Ralston when they were alone, scarcely able to believe it.

“Didn’t I already say I did?” She gave him a look that was exasperated, but also half smiling.

He closed the distance between them and took hold of her hands. “I love you, Isabelle. And my heart’s desire is to spend the rest of my life with you. Tell me what I need to do to achieve that good fortune.”

“Well, hmm. I will need a cube of ice from the glaciers at the heart of Antarctica, a mountain of sand from the Great Victoria Desert, teeth of a piranha from the center of the Amazon, and the braided tail of a unicorn.”

He loved the light that had returned to her eyes. The entire room glowed with the afternoon sun, but she glowed most of all. “When it comes to the unicorn tail, do you have a preference as to the color?”

The corners of her lips quivered. “White would be good enough.”

“But that’s so common. Are you sure that for your hand, I don’t need to bag a rainbow-colored unicorn tail instead?”

This time she couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “I love you too,” she said softly. “And yes, I will marry you.”

No one would ever convince him that he didn’t levitate an inch or so off the floor at that moment. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with all the joy in his soul.

“Mama, will you come and have tea with us?” came Hyacinth’s voice from the other side of the door.

They pulled apart, breathless, and giggled at each other.

“There are egg mayonnaise sandwiches, Mama,” added Alexander. “You like egg mayonnaise sandwiches.”

“Will you be all right until after dinner?” Isabelle asked softly, smoothing a finger over Ralston’s brow. “You are most welcome to join us for tea, if you’d like.”

“I will be delighted to join you for tea, darling,” he answered in all honesty. Every moment with her was a thrill.

“Well, then.” She gave him a quick kiss, then walked to the door, opening it wide. “Look, children, look who is back.”

Epilogue

H
YACINTH AND
A
LEXANDER’S LAUGHTER,
as they chased each other in the gardens, rose up to the open windows. They adored Doyle’s Grange and could not wait to make the acquaintance of Lord Northword’s grandchildren and some of the younger children from Beauregard’s Farm.

Upstairs there were boxes and more boxes. As Ralston helped put up Isabelle’s photographs on the mantel of the sitting room, he suddenly remembered her ancestress. “Where is that miniature portrait of yours, darling?”

“I sent it to a cousin of mine—she just gave birth to a sickly baby and needs the luck more than I do.”

“So the portrait is supposed to bring good luck?”

“Of course.” She kissed him on his lips as she passed him, headed for yet another box. “That was the belonging I had come back to Doyle’s Grange to retrieve. And it led me directly to you.”