Page 39 of Isabel and the Rogue

Whatever the case, Sirius did not approach her immediately. He wanted to. Was almost eager to speak with her. About the safe in Fairchild’s study, of course. As inconspicuously as he could, Sirius pulled on his cravat tie. Why did it feel so tight?

Weaving slowly through the guests, Sirius stopped to exchange words with a group of older women and patiently allowed them to introduce their young charges. Sirius fixed a smile on his face as the young women spoke of their time in London and the sights and sounds they’d enjoyed so far. Fairchild’s brother-in-law even roped him into a conversation about the conflict in Bhutan, and Sirius contributed comments on occasion, projecting an air of interest he hoped appeared sincere. He stifled a laugh when Gabriela Luna flashed him a jaunty smile. Yet the true object of his attention was a point—a person—on the other side of the room, who continued to sit quietly with Miss Fairchild. By the time Sirius had made his way to them, a half hour had passed by. A long, dull thirty minutes.

“Miss Luna, Miss Fairchild,” he murmured, offering them a crisp bow, “you had the right of it by tucking yourselves away here in the back of the room.”

“I know better than to place myself in my mother’s line of sight.” Miss Fairchild employed a mock shudder. “It’s a surefire way to guarantee I’ll be demonstrating my music skills like a pet monkey in a show.”

Sirius chuckled, noting that while Isabel did not join him, a genuine smile lit her face.

“While I’m sure I would be gratified to hear your skill on the violin firsthand, I certainly don’t wish to see you perform if you yourself do not desire to.” Sirius linked his hands together behind his back, well aware the motion drew attention to his shoulders and arms. Shoulders and arms he exercised regularly with fencing and tennis. When he noticed both young women scan their gazes over his form, Sirius bit back a chuckle. While he was not interested in Miss Fairchild’s admiration, a flame sparked in the bottom of his stomach to see Isabel’s lashes drop low over her eyes. “I’ve never really given much thought to the pressure we put on young women to perform for audiences under the guise of showcasing their talents. If one wishes to perform, that is one thing, but one should not be compelled to do so by others.”

“I quite agree, Captain Dawson, but then sadly no one has ever asked for my opinion.” Miss Fairchild nodded her head before turning to look at Isabel. “Are you proficient on an instrument, Miss Luna? Are you, too, expected to entertain on demand?”

Isabel ducked her head. “Unfortunately…or perhaps fortunately, I have never shown much musical talent. I’ve always had a knack for remembering odd details, though. Dates. People’s names. The lines to obscure poems or long passages of text.” She licked her lip, darting her gaze to his for a moment and then plowing on. “My father thought it would be amusing if I recited several bits of information about each guest at a dinner party he and my mother hosted. I was so nervous to stand in front of the room and speak, I got sick all over my shoes.”

“Oh no,” Miss Fairchild cried, grasping Isabel’s hand tight. “That must have been dreadful.”

Dreadful appeared to be an understatement if Isabel’s appearance was any indication. Her normally warm complexion had turned pale, and her eyes darted about without landing on one point, as if she were afraid to look at either him or Miss Fairchild. Her confession had no doubt brought up the fear and humiliation she must have felt in that moment so long ago, and Sirius’s arms twitched to pull her close. To whisper how cruel that request was.

Instead, Sirius watched her, silently willing her to meet his gaze. But Isabel kept it steadfastly away, and an uncomfortable knot lodged in his throat.

Although her shoulders curled in, Isabel flashed a small, shy smile at Miss Fairchild. “I know that’s not the sort of conversation one should engage in, and I apologize. But when you mentioned having to perform, whether you want to or not, that scene burst from my memory like a cannon blast.”

“No apologies necessary. I’m terribly sorry that happened to you.” Miss Fairchild sighed, her gaze fixing on a spot on the other side of the room. “I know I shouldn’t complain. My mother means well. She wants to see me happy and settled. It can be a bit much at times, though. Like tonight during dinner.”

“What happened during dinner?” Isabel asked with a cock of her head.

An abashed look settled on Miss Fairchild’s face as she glanced up at him. “Poor Captain Dawson was subjected to her matchmaking ploys.”

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. “As you said, she wants to see you settled.”

“I suppose I should be thankful for her meddling this time, for I’m grateful you suggested I seek out Miss Luna here.” Miss Fairchild beamed at Isabel. “I fear I would have missed out on our engaging conversation if I had not listened.”

A becoming blush swept across Isabel’s cheeks, and her eyes flashed to his for a fleeting second. “The captain thought you should speak with me?”

“He did. He thought our personalities might suit each other.” Miss Fairchild bumped her shoulder into Isabel’s. “And I think he’s right.”

Isabel arched a brow. “Even though I spoke of an indelicate topic?”

“Because you spoke of an indelicate topic.” Miss Fairchild gestured to the guests mingling about. “I’ve quickly learned that so much about polite society is artifice. I find it quite refreshing whenever the veneer slips and a bit of authenticity is revealed.”

“So do I,” Isabel said, her onyx eyes sparkling.

Sirius did not tarry much longer with Isabel and Miss Fairchild, mindful that tongues would wag if he spent any more than a polite amount of time with the young women. But before he stepped away, he managed to catch Isabel’s eyes. When he did, Sirius looked pointedly at the corridor that led to Fairchild’s study, and then back at her. Isabel inclined her head slightly, before returning her attention to her companion. Sirius took his leave, certain Isabel understood his unspoken message.

A quarter of an hour later, while in the middle of a conversation about overarm bowling in cricket with two gentlemen whose names he could not recall, Sirius spied Isabel slip from the room out of the corner of his eye. He continued to sip idly from his tumbler for another ten or so minutes, and then excused himself with a silent nod. Sirius sidestepped various guests as he made his way toward the opposite end of the room, determined not to let Isabel wait any longer than necessary. When he finally disappeared down the dark corridor, he released a sigh of relief to have finally extricated himself from the crowd.

Walking several paces down the hall, Sirius glanced about, gaze trained on every alcove and open door for a glimpse of Isabel. Where was she? Surely she had not been discovered, for he would have heard the commotion…right?

After turning a corner toward Fairchild’s study, his steps halted. She was lurking in the shadows before the study door, only a hint of her golden-brown silk gown peeking into view. As he moved closer, her face came into focus…and a breath caught in his throat, for Isabel’s deep, dark eyes stared at him, and Sirius knew in an instant that he was in trouble.

Without a word, Isabel pressed on the handle and entered the room. Squaring his shoulders, Sirius followed close behind.

Only a single lamp burned on a side table, its glow illuminating a small patch in the corner of the room. Isabel stood in it now, the light glinting on the amber notes in her hair. Her back was to him, her head tilted up at the imposing gilt-framed portrait of some long-deceased Fairchild ancestor. Watching her, Sirius quietly closed the door behind him and rested his back against the wood.

The room was eerily silent, the low hum of voices from the activities on the other side of the house the only sound. Sirius wasn’t sure if he should say something or allow her to decide how she wanted to proceed. Despite his frustration on the subject, this was not Isabel’s first covert search.

Isabel pivoted then, half of her face burnished by the lamplight, and the other half melding into the surrounding shadows. Sirius rocked back on his heels. What was it about this moment that rendered her so beautiful? Her glinting eyes? The slight pout to her lips? His musings were interrupted when she advanced toward him, not stopping until she stood before him, looking up at him with large eyes.