Page 56 of Isabel and the Rogue

“What are you doing here?” she eventually managed.

The corner of his mouth ticked up, his eyes tracing her face. “I live only two blocks away, by the park.” At her questioning look, he added, “The town house with the blue door?”

That sounded vaguely familiar. Isabel dipped her head.

Sirius glanced over her shoulder, and she assumed he was checking to see where the proprietor was. “I was selecting books to send to Dancourt Abbey.”

“For your library?” she asked, knowing he took pride in building up his collection.

“No, actually.” Sirius dropped his hands and stepped back a half step. “I periodically send books to the families who live there. Any books they don’t keep they donate to the local schoolhouse. Sometimes they send requests.” He pulled a scrap of parchment from his coat pocket and showed her.

A fluttering feeling began low in her belly, and Isabel clasped her hands together tightly. Sirius sent books to his country estate simply for his employees and their families to enjoy? His thoughtfulness didn’t surprise her. Not really. When she thought back to the weeks she spent as a guest at Dancourt Abbey, it had been apparent to Isabel that Sirius was greatly respected and esteemed by his employees. There was always someone, whether a local farmer or man from the mill, who stopped by to chat with him, and it was not uncommon to hear their combined laughter echoing about the halls. Once, Isabel had stepped outside for a walk when she’d encountered Sirius and Whitfield playing cricket on a makeshift pitch with a handful of boys from the village. She’d watched them covertly, not wanting to seem at all interested in their antics, until a bend in the path had obstructed her view. He shared his charm and consideration with everyone.

It was probably why he had agreed to help her in the first place, and nothing more. Anything that occurred between them after that was a matter of opportunity and convenience.

And yet he said you weren’t boring…

Sirius took a step closer to her, a pucker between his brows. “What’s wrong, Isabel?”

She instantly bristled. “Why do you think anything is wrong?”

“I can tell,” he said cryptically, his gaze softening.

Isabel didn’t know what to think about that, nibbling her cheek as she glanced about. The shop owner was still in the back storage room, and she could hear him rummaging about, leaving her and Sirius alone. Just standing this close to him, his scent in her nose, left her a bit breathless. Isabel risked a glance up at him, finding him considering her patiently.

Something about his calm countenance had her blurt out, “I received a letter.”

He nodded. “From whom?”

“Padre Ignacio,” she said quickly, as if saying the name might make her voice tremble.

Sirius widened his stance, concern filling his eyes. “Is it news of your parents?”

“No,” she blurted out. Catching Sirius’s surprised expression, Isabel clarified, “We received a letter directly from my mother stating they were well.”

“I’m relieved for you.” He raised his hand to her cheek but abruptly paused…before letting his arm drop. “So why do you seem so perturbed to hear from him?”

“Because…it’s just…” She mashed her lips together as her gaze darted about, her mind racing to explain all that she was feeling. Glancing back at Sirius, her shoulders sank. “I—I don’t have anything new to share with him.”

Not wanting him to see the embarrassment on her cheeks, Isabel pivoted to face the nearest bookshelf. Her gaze fell on the cover of Five Weeks in a Balloon, by Jules Verne. How Isabel wished she could ascend in a balloon again, but instead of being tethered to the earth—to her problems—it would carry her away. Far, far away from her sense of failure. From the kind man who sought her company but left her cold. From the man who stood behind her, whom she wanted for herself despite knowing he could never be hers.

“Do you expect Father Ignacio to shame you?”

“No.” The answer was immediate. Not once had Padre Ignacio ever shamed her. And yet the idea of failing him made her nauseated. “It’s just…” Isabel shook her head as she trailed off, dipping her chin so he could not see her expression.

After a tense moment, he exhaled, long and loud. “Have you read it?” When Isabel shook her head again, Sirius’s tone turned soft. “Would you like to read it now, while I’m with you? Sometimes it’s easier to do difficult things when you have a friend for support.”

What a lovely sentiment, and even lovelier that Isabel finally had a friend who might be supportive of her. With a nod, she extracted the letter from her reticule and slowly unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed over the writing and stopped, a frown pulling on her mouth.

“It’s not from Padre Ignacio,” she whispered.

“Who’s it from, then?” Sirius asked.

Isabel looked up at him, panic cinching around her throat. “Fernando Ramírez.”

• • •

The only thing Sirius knew about this Fernando Ramírez was that he used to be engaged to Ana María Fox, and had tapped Isabel with her irksome task. Yet the dread that contorted Isabel’s face at the realization the man had written to her was enough for Sirius to hate him.