A Most Improper Proposal. Molly Ann Wishlade

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      ‘But what did you… what could you have done to make him treat you in this way?’ Lady Watson was so kind, so compassionate and so sincere that she could not imagine her doing anything so wretched as to merit this ill treatment.

      ‘None of us are straightforward, Isabella, and we learn, hopefully, from our mistakes. I have never set out to hurt anyone but, at times’ – the lady stared off into the distance and her eyes clouded over – ‘my decisions may not have been the right ones.’

      Suddenly aware that someone was standing right behind her, Isabella twisted around and found herself staring into a familiar face. Instantly, colour rushed into her cheeks and her fan took up its defensive position across her chest.

      ‘Why, Miss Adams, is it not?’

      She fell back against the wall next to Lady Watson as she tumbled into the intense, dark-brown eyes of the horseman from Hyde Park.

      ‘And Lady Watson.’

      He bowed to them both and Isabella noted that he was wearing a tight smile that did not reach his eyes.

      ‘Good evening, Nephew,’ Lady Watson’s response caused Isabella to stare at her, open-mouthed.

Chapter Three

      Lord James Crawford stood in front of his aunt and the young lady he had nearly mown down that afternoon. If he hadn’t been so agitated himself, he would have found their expressions amusing. Lady Lydia Watson was looking at him with a mixture of affection and bewilderment. His quick assessment of her informed him that she was either completely shocked or the yellow of her gown was having a draining effect upon her complexion. Typical of his aunt to choose a dress that would have made even a debutante appear less than her best. The old lady was sparky and defiant and had always refused to conform. It had been one of the things he had loved about her.

      Isabella Adams was moving her head from him to his aunt, and back again, and she appeared to be totally confused. Her face was pinker than the rosebuds on the trim of her gown and her eyes carried a wariness that he had only seen before in the eyes of a hunted deer. He realised that he recognised the look; she had worn it this afternoon in the park when she became aware of the stares of the afternoon walkers.

      What was it that she had to fear?

      ‘You have already met?’ Lady Watson asked.

      Isabella had opened her mouth to answer when James jumped in. ‘Indeed we have, Aunt Lydia. We met this afternoon at Hyde Park, though our introduction was somewhat unconventional.’ He offered a conciliatory smile.

      The comely young woman nodded her head at his aunt and sudden understanding filled the elderly woman’s face. ‘So you were…’

      ‘Yes, it was a most unfortunate incident,’ James agreed. ‘But thankfully both Miss Adams and my stallion, Loki, escaped unharmed.’

      ‘Thankfully,’ his aunt’s companion echoed, though he noted that it was not gratitude that passed across her pretty face. In fact, she actually appeared to be annoyed with him.

      He was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her against his chest and hold her until he felt her relax against him and he wouldn’t have minded the opportunity to be closer to the fresh pink skin of her bosom. What he could see was tantalising and he wondered if her nipples would be dark or fair, large or small. He shook his head to clear the images as he felt a stirring in his loins. This young lady was enchanting.

      ‘Well, Aunt Lydia, aren’t you going to enquire after my health? It has been quite some time since we last met.’

      ‘Of course, James, please excuse me. I am a little surprised. I am afraid that I did not know that you had returned until just moments ago.’ He watched as she lowered her eyes down and closed her fan then ran the fingers of her free hand through the feathers that hung from the end.

      The silence hung between them.

      When he did not attempt to fill it, she raised heavy eyes to his and asked, ‘When did you return, James dear? Is everything all right? Are you staying long?’

      He raised a hand.

      ‘One question at a time, please, Aunt Lydia. I apologise for not contacting you to inform you of my return, but it was an impromptu decision. I was in Calais at the end of my tour of France, looking out across the channel, when I had a sudden and overwhelming urge to see England again; to feel British soil beneath my feet.’

      ‘In France?’

      James eyed the pretty young woman. She really was delightful.

      ‘Yes, Miss Adams. The situation there is much calmer now. Many of the French are trying hard to rebuild their lives and livelihoods and are not as hostile as some would have us believe.’ He frowned as he thought of what he had seen in Calais and the surrounding countryside, the poverty of the people and the general antediluvian appearance of the place was a complete contrast to the Kentish towns he knew so well. He returned his gaze to his aunt. ‘I have been away so long and enjoyed my travels but suddenly I knew that it was time to return home.’

      ‘Well, I am extremely glad to see you, my dear. Your handsome face and your company have been missed.’ Lady Watson’s voice was tight and strained and he detected a slight quiver as she spoke. It made his heart ache to see her so distressed, yet a part of him whispered that she did not deserve his pity.

      ‘Indeed,’ he replied, nodding his head. ‘And I see that during my absence, some things have changed.’ He smiled at Isabella, holding her gaze until she was uncomfortable enough to glance away, then he turned and swept his arm across the staircase and upper rooms. ‘Yet some things have not altered. Not at all.’

      ‘No, James’ – Lady Watson shook her head, and his stomach churned to hear her voice laced with sadness – ‘some things do not change.’

      ‘However,’ he announced with forced brightness, ‘in answer to your questions: I returned six days ago; yes I am well and I intend to stay at least until spring. Although,’ he smiled at Isabella again and leant slightly towards her as if to whisper to her, ‘I may stay longer if I have reason to.’

      His heartbeat quickened at the flush that burned in her cheeks and swept across her neck and chest. He was but teasing the maiden and meant no harm but she seemed so serious. She did not, he noted, react as most of the young women and debutantes did in his presence or that of other eligible bachelors.

      There was, in fact, no return at all of his superficial flirtation. Instead, she seemed extremely uncomfortable. Almost… humiliated. What have I done wrong?

      ‘Well, there is room with us, James,’ his aunt interrupted his thoughts, ‘if you have not found suitable lodgings. I would be so pleased to have your company.’ Lady Watson raised a trembling hand to her chest and held it there to convey her sincerity.

      ‘That is most kind of you, Aunt Lydia, but I would not inconvenience you. However, we have much to discuss. I would like to call on you tomorrow, if I may?’

      James stared at his aunt, his head on one side.

      ‘Of course, James, my dear, of course.’

      He СКАЧАТЬ