Drat. I shouldn’t have said that aloud.
With a sigh, Isobel met her brother’s gaze. “You’ve left me with the responsibility of Mother.” Not for worlds would she share her innermost concerns. Her father had detested emotions and had said women who showed them—especially with tears—were hysterical, unreasonable creatures. Her mother had always trained her to act like a lady in all circumstances. Those early teachings had left deep wounds that still hadn’t healed.
“Poppycock. I haven’t gone anywhere. In fact, Francesca and I are still underfoot.”
“Perhaps, but you have your work at Bow Street, and you have Fanny.” Isobel peered at her friend turned sister-in-law. “The two of you are married, and that’s lovely of course, but I miss you—both of you—and how things used to be. I miss Caroline too, yet she holds herself out of reach. I fear she’s lost to me, to all of us, really.”
Her family, though constantly changing, had shifted again, thus leaving her behind. They’d closed ranks, so to speak, and now she was on the outside looking in.
“I had no idea you felt this way.” Concern wrinkled William’s brow. “I’m in the middle of an intense case—”
Isobel waved a hand. “You always are.” If her tone sounded overly waspish, she couldn’t help it. “I’m… lonely.” Shock from the admission moved through her chest and sent the ball of unshed tears once more into her throat. All her life she’d always had someone around her, but it was different when she wanted family now over friends.
“Oh, Isobel, you should have told me.” Fanny quickly switched benches to sit beside her. “I’m so sorry for neglecting you. I had no idea how much being married or delving into journalism would take up my time.” She linked one of her arms with Isobel’s. It provided a modicum of comfort but didn’t take away the emptiness prowling through her chest. “I’ll make more of an effort at being in your company.”
“Thank you.”
Fanny babbled on about making plans for a host of things. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “We should have a day to ourselves, to do anything we want. I can introduce you to a few male acquaintances—”
“Is that absolutely necessary? My sister doesn’t need more would-be suitors for greater scandal.” William’s frown was as fierce as she’d ever seen it.
“Yes, he’s right. I have enough of them.” She suspected they merely hung around for the entertainment aspect, to wonder what she’d do next that would shock and astound. It grew… tiresome.
William huffed. “Then choose one of them for a proper courtship.”
“So I won’t be your responsibility any longer?” Isobel bit off. That prowling heated anger curled through her gut, always there but not quite ready to explode. “You want a man to tame me, don’t you?”
“Uh…” His frown deepened and he threw a frantic glance at Fanny. When Isobel glanced into her face, her friend’s eyes were wide. Finally, William’s sputters coalesced into words. “Is that truly the worst thing that can happen?”
At the moment, yes.She narrowed her eyes on her brother. “I don’t want to be tamed.” After disentangling her arm from Fanny’s, she crossed them at her chest. “I wish to be understood by a man, to fit into his life without conditions or restrictions.”
To belong to a man for no other reason than I’m enough.
For the space of long heartbeats, silence reigned in the carriage. Then William stirred. The smile he bestowed upon her was tinged with sadness and perhaps a trace of regret. For what she couldn’t say. “I’m merely asking you to behave tonight. We’ll continue this discussion later.”
“Of course we will.” But she knew they wouldn’t. No one ever wanted to delve into the woman she was or why she deported herself with scandal. No one ever asked how she liked being a Storme or if she was even happy. “But I want you to know that I will live life on my terms. In that you can’t stop me.”
He very well might once she read snippets from two naughty poems she’d memorized and recalled from her years of being sent to finishing schools. That thought provoked a small smile. After all, a lady had to do something to amuse herself.
*
Isobel’s outlook vastlyimproved when she discovered Doctor Marsden was in attendance. Beside Finn and his wife, there was William and Fanny, Isobel’s aunt, Lady Jane’s mother, as well as a handful of other guests she didn’t immediately recognize. As she came into the drawing room where the bulk of the guests had assembled, she put on her most winning smile, smoothed her hands down the front of her blue-gray gown, and then crossed the floor toward the grouping of furniture where he held court.
“Good evening, Doctor Marsden. It’s a happy surprise to see you here.”
When he excused himself from his conversation and then glanced at her, recognition and interest lit his moss green eyes as he stood. “Miss Storme! It’s been a bit since I last saw you.”
“Yes.” She roved her gaze over him in blatant regard. “How have you kept yourself?” His long form was clad in the requisite dark evening clothes, but his waistcoat of sky-blue satin embroidered with vines and flower buds spoke to a playful personality. His red hair, combed into the latest style, had been kept into place with a trace amount of pomade, but it was the tiny twinkle of mischief deep in the depths of his eyes that caught her attention.
Here was an excellent way to pass what was certain to be a monotonous evening. Perhaps she could convince him to slip away for a private conversation.
“Busy at the clinic, I’m afraid.” As much as she looked her fill at him, he did the same to her, and when his gaze lingered at her décolletage put on display by the low bodice of her gown, a tiny thrill went down her spine.
She cocked an eyebrow. “All work and no play makes for a very dull boy indeed.”
“Mmm. So I’ve been told recently.” He caught one of her hands in his, brought it to his lips, and placed a fleeting kiss on the back, holding her fingers for a fraction of a second longer than was proper. “You look well, but I’ve heard about your mother’s health. You have my sympathies.”
“Thank you.” For the space of a heartbeat, her chest seized with both confusion and grief. “It’s, ah, a trying time.” Desperate to return to lighter subject matter, Isobel pasted her grin back into place. “Are you hoping to hear a particular piece tonight?” How would he react when he heard the poems she’d planned to recite?