Page 17 of Isabel and the Rogue
A breath caught in her throat, and it took her a moment to say, “It does. And I despise feeling this way. Not knowing if they’re in danger or not, and not being able to do anything about it.”
Her words were nothing more than a hoarse whisper, and any other time Isabel would have been appalled to showcase such emotions to Captain Dawson. But something in his eyes—a gentleness she’d never noticed before—convinced her that he would treat her vulnerability with care.
The captain nodded. “And with the time and distance between here and there, knowing their current status is doubly difficult.”
“Until they contact us directly, I suppose we won’t know anything for certain.” Isabel sighed, dropping her gaze to her lap. “As you know, I’m no stranger to war, but it’s impossible to get used to its realities.”
Isabel sensed rather than saw him cock his head to the side. “What do you mean you’re no stranger to war? Why would three gently bred young ladies like you and your sisters be exposed to war more than once?”
“Because we’re Mexican, Capitán.” She snorted indelicately. “Someone has always desired to rule Mexico, whether it was the warring peoples of the peninsula or the Spanish or the French. The Mexican people are forever told who they will be, mostly by others but sometimes by their own.”
“Aah.” Captain Dawson rocked back on his heels, a frown twisting his mouth. “How very frustrating.”
“It is.” She nibbled her lip as she considered him. It was not lost on her that the captain had approached to offer her words of comfort before he had spoken with anyone else. Isabel knew better than to allow herself to think too deeply upon the significance of his actions, especially considering their history with each other. But after Captain Dawson had been kind to her at the balloon festival, and now listening sympathetically as she shared her fears, Isabel couldn’t help the pang in her chest.
Lifting her chin, she grasped for composure. “I’m confident that with my uncle’s help, Gideon will be able to muster the aid we need to have any chance of evicting Napoleon and his puppet emperor.”
When Captain Dawson rose to his feet, Isabel expected him to mumble a word of parting and move away, but he sat beside her. He kept a respectable amount of distance between them, but his tantalizing cedarwood and citrus scent hung in the air, and Isabel still felt the heat radiating from him. Her instincts encouraged her to lean into his side, but instead she knotted her hands together in her lap.
“I have some connections at the Home Office.” Captain Dawson crossed his ankles, his foot bobbing to and fro. “Old friends from when I was an officer. I told Fox I would speak with them to gauge how closely they’re following the conflict, and what would need to happen to precipitate an intervention.”
Her limbs felt frozen in place for a stark second…before the sweet heat of relief coursed up her spine. “Is that possible? Would England consider entering the war?”
Captain Dawson raised a staying hand. “It’s highly unlikely. From my experience, the military only likes to get involved when British interests are directly at stake. And they’re stretched thin with the conflict in New Zealand and Bhutan, as well as the political atmosphere in America.”
“I would think that the rebirth of the French empire would be a direct threat to British interests,” Isabel pointed out, arching a brow.
A bright smile spread across his lips and promptly took Isabel’s breath away. “Another reminder of your cleverness.”
To her horror, Isabel felt heat sweep across her chest, neck, and cheeks, and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. And delight.
“But I will utilize just that talking point when I speak with my friends.” His expression turned calculating. “I have little doubt the Home Office is keeping a watchful eye on Napoleon and the actions of the imperial government in Mexico. I do not think the French expected the Liberal forces to cause them as much trouble as they have.”
“They have underestimated our pride.” Isabel shifted until she faced him fully, and dropped her voice. “In fact, I would not be at all surprised if the rebel effort has inadvertently aided the Union in their victory against the Confederacy.”
The captain’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
After quickly darting her gaze around the room to ensure no one else was listening, Isabel murmured, “This is just conjecture…” She licked her lips. “But it occurred to me that the French and the Confederacy could have benefited from an alliance with each other. The French were eager for Southern cotton, and the Confederacy needed French weapons. Weapons the French may have been inclined to offer the Confederate states had they not needed them to fight the Liberal forces.”
“Christ,” Captain Dawson bit out under his breath, his eyes wide. “If the French had interceded in the war in the States, that would have been disastrous. Not just for the future of that country, but for geopolitical relations across the Atlantic. For free men and women all over the world.”
Isabel nodded even as she tried to swallow around the knot in her throat. Late at night, she had contemplated the different scenarios, mindful that while the world often felt enormous, it was small in so many critically intertwined ways. What happened in Mexico affected their powerful neighbor to the north, which then rippled to Europe and beyond. She was gratified that the captain immediately recognized the gravity of such a circumstance. And if he did, there was hope his countrymen would, too.
She considered the man before her. If Captain Dawson had connections at the Home Office, was it possible he could help her? While it was true he had been kind and attentive to her as of late, it did not mean the captain would be willing to assist her.
And could Isabel stand to be in his presence for so long without her sensibilities falling prey to his charms? Uncertainty, and a healthy dose of caution, had her steeling her spine. Perhaps Captain Dawson wasn’t as glib as she had long thought, but that certainly did not mean he wasn’t dangerous.
5
The day was unseasonably warm, and for at least the tenth time since she stepped from the house, Isabel cursed the fact that she was required to wear so many layers of clothing. Sweat beaded on her brow and she fanned her face faster, as if the thick, balmy air would somehow cool her.
She had wandered away from the spectator box where Lady Yardley chatted with Tío Arturo and several members of the ton. Isabel couldn’t quite remember who had invited them, but after drinking three glasses of ice-cold lemonade, she decided she needed a break from the noise and crowds.
Escape was much harder to find than Isabel had expected. Epsom Downs was a veritable party, with rows of stands selling kites, a rainbow assortment of treats including fluffy marshmallows, various comfits, bonbons, pear drops, and peppermints. There were even milliner stalls with fine bonnets and hats, cobblers showcasing the newest footwear trends from Paris, and flower merchants selling bright blooms of every colorful shade. Isabel had spied more than one woman with a fresh rose in her bonnet or a young man with a daisy pinned to his lapel. In addition to the peddlers and merchants, there were clowns doing silly magic tricks for children, jugglers awing the crowd with their acts, and even a makeshift museum of oddities collected from all over the world. Gabby had squealed with delight over the various entertainments, but Isabel had not known where to look. Her gaze jumped from one sight to the next, the cacophony of voices a slowly building buzz until she was forced to press her palms to her ears to muffle the sound.
Without taking leave of Gabby, Lady Yardley, or her uncle, Isabel weaved and darted her way across the lawn toward the shaded canopy of a large oak tree near the edge of the paddocks. As she stepped under its boughs, Isabel ripped the bonnet from her head and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Are you all right?” Gabby asked, panting slightly as she came to a stop by her side. “Feeling a bit overwhelmed?”
