Chapter Five
June 15, 1818
Isobel’s nerves felt strung too tight, and knots pulled in her stomach. She clasped her fingers in her lap while the carriage made its ponderous way through Mayfair toward the Duke of Titterbury’s home, but she stared unseeing out the window. The one thought circling through her mind was the fact that Doctor Marsden—Royce—had kissed her yesterday in Hyde Park.
It hadn’t been chaste; it hadn’t been toe-curlingly deep either, but that kiss had ignited tiny fires within her blood. Even now, she felt the press of his lips against hers, and in that one meeting of mouths, there had been the promise of potentially wicked things in the offing. Even after she’d shared with him why she detested the ton.
He hadn’t lectured her, nor had he launched into an explanation of why her thinking was wrong. The man had merely accepted her explanation and attempted to delve deeper into why that was. Suffice it to say, the doctor intrigued her, presented a challenge she couldn’t wait to undertake. Would he be the voice of reason, a moral compass of sorts, to her desire to cause scandal and a sensation? Or would he willingly follow her into trouble?
Oh, she certainly hoped it was the second one.
With a barely tamped sigh, she shifted her position on the squabbed bench. Before she’d left, Isobel had checked in on her mother, who’d been asleep. More and more, she took refuge in slumber. Was that an indication that her strength waned, and the end was near? Perhaps she should have declined Royce’s request to attend this evening. What if her mother called out and she wasn’t there in the final moments? Her chest tightened with grief and worry. I can’t think about that right now. And her mother had already told her not to spend hours at her bedside, waiting for death. So tonight, beyond trying to tempt the good doctor away into an unused room, she would witness Royce examine a dead body, which she assumed meant cutting into the dead flesh to reveal its innards.
She must have uttered a slight moan of dismay, for William’s head shot up. “Have you changed your mind about attending tonight?”
“I’m not quite certain. One the one hand, there’s a certain element of excitement there, but on the other, just the thought of being in the same room with a nameless, unwanted cadaver leaves me rather unsettled.” When she met her brother’s gaze across the narrow aisle of the vehicle, she shrugged. “I want to go but I don’t. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely.” The juxtaposition of them both decked out in elegant evening clothes to bear witness to the macabre wasn’t lost on Isobel. “However, it might prove interesting. For me, I might learn a few things that will help in cases. From what I understand, Doctor Marsden advised the duke to keep the crowd small, for the odor from the body will be quite potent.”
The mention of Royce sent tingles of something through her lower belly. “Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Indeed. I’m quite familiar with that aspect, of course, but in such close quarters as a drawing room, it will be extreme.” William shook his head. “I rather think your presence will come as a surprise, for these things are usually conducted in front of a male audience only.”
Isobel snorted. “Ah, because women are too delicate and fragile to think of things like death or the shedding of the corporeal form?” Perhaps there was some truth there, for the thought of looking upon a lifeless body made her shudder. It was one thing to be brave and strong when courting scandal, but quite another when gazing upon someone’s remains out of scientific curiosity.
“Of course. Genteel ladies like yourself should be spared the ugliness of life.”
“Well, I won’t go home, if that’s what you’re hinting at. Doctor Marsden personally invited me.”
“Oh? That’s a surprise.”
“Why? We’re acquaintances within society as well as the Storme family.” Did she appear nonchalant enough to not give away her interest in the man? “I have enough curiosity, the same as you, so I’ll see it through.” Besides, she would be in Royce’s company again, and that was more than any discomfort.
William’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of ordering you to do so. I’m slowly learning that if I tell you not to do a thing, it’s exactly what you’ll do.” He flicked his gaze over her person. “You look lovely tonight. That color suits you. If one didn’t know better, one would think you’re every inch the proper ton lady.”
Isobel pulled a face at him. “Thank you.” She brushed at the satin skirts of robin-egg blue. It was one of her favorites. “The color reminds me of spending summers at Hadleigh Hall, and the sky when it wasn’t raining.” And amidst all the men who’d wear dark suits, she’d stand apart. Hopefully, Royce would notice her, pull her aside afterward to talk… or perhaps steal another kiss.
Those days had been idyllic when she ran about the estate with her siblings and cousins. There were no worries in the world back then, only adventure and freedom. Before everything changed when Caroline was sent away, and she never saw her cousins again.
“I remember those days.” His voice had softened. “Life certainly was different, but truth to tell, the life I’m living now isn’t horrid.”
“Because of Fanny?” Isobel wasn’t in the mood to listen to him wax poetic about his wife, even if she was a friend.
“In some ways, yes, but I was speaking about our cousins. It’s been nice having family about again and feeling as if I’m a part of a greater whole.” He bestowed a look of compassion upon her. “Aunt Lavinia will help fill the void once Mother passes.”
“Piffle.” Isobel shook her head. She returned her attention to the window. They were nearly to the duke’s residence. “No one can take Mother’s place.” Hurt and slight panic rose in her chest. The edge of a new reality loomed ever closer, and it was terrifying. Dear Lord, I need a hard distraction, something that will make me forget. “As much as I like our cousins, they certainly haven’t taken time out of their lives to make our mother’s last days comforting. She is their aunt, for heaven’s sake.” If she let those emotions out, the anger would take control and she’d turn into a screeching harpy.
“Agreed. I’ll talk to Andrew about it. Perhaps we can all take turns holding vigil, though getting Brand here from Ipswich will be a chore, especially when his wife will give birth soon.”
Yes, there were certainly no shortage of babies in the Storme family right now. Envy stabbed through her heart. She didn’t begrudge the women their infants, but she did wish she had that sort of closeness with someone like they enjoyed with their husbands. “That would be nice,” she said when she realized William waited for an answer. Though having the extended family around her wasn’t all that she needed. Why couldn’t her cousins come sit with her, ask after her health, wrap their arms around her in solidarity and familial support? Did none of them remember how they’d felt when their father had died? Did none of them see how she was barely holding herself together in the face of this?
With a swallow to keep the unshed tears out of her throat, she asked, “Where is Fanny? I’d think a cadaver exam is the sort of thing she’d find interesting.” Her friend was curious about everything, and that was what made her a brilliant journalist.
Concern wrinkled his brow. “She’s not feeling well at present. No doubt it was something she ate or exhaustion from the pace of our cases.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll check in on her when we return home.”
“She’d like that.” William leaned forward. He patted her knee. “Are you well? Your color is quite high.”