The Complicated Earl (19 page)

“And sometimes actions can be wrong,” came the snapped reply. Isabelle did not know if he meant her running away or them kissing and she was not about
ask him to clarify so that she could find out. She did not want to be hurt further by his words.

“As usual I am confused by your response, you say one thing but coul
d quite easily mean another, and then again I should be used to that now. I shall leave you in peace; it is obvious you do not relish my company. I see my friend Mr Roberts has joined the group. I find I understand his conversation without any effort. Good day.” Isabelle walked away with her head high, the pounding of her heart and the urge to scream and cry well hidden underneath her practised formality.

T
om was left watching her. He felt close to exploding and needed to get away from the group. He carried straight on when the rest of the group turned a corner; he had not joined in any conversation, so no-one apart from Isabelle noticed he had left the party. He walked quickly through the gardens until he reached the woodland and then he started to run. He needed to let off some energy and he could think of no other outlet at that moment. What he wanted to do was find himself in the boxing ring with a suitable opponent, preferably Mr Roberts and then he would have enjoyed expelling his pent up energy, but for now running would have to suffice.

He did not care if he was seen and took no joy in the gardens that he ran through, his motivation was to release some of what he was feeling.
Eventually he stopped and leaned on a tree to catch his breath. She infuriated him beyond belief, she made him angry like no other person had ever done, but all he could think of was kissing her. He could not get the thought out of his mind and no-one would ever know just how much willpower it took him to control his feelings and stop himself acting in a way that would send the whole party into shock.

He knew he should be able to get over her, she was a maddening wom
an at the best of times, but he had never met anyone else like her in his life. When he had returned to Kent he had thrown himself into his social circle like he had never done before. He had been determined to forget her, to meet someone new, but every woman he met he compared with her and not one matched her in his eyes. Yes, some may be more beautiful, some may be more talented, but none had the whole package that she had. Beauty, charm, intelligence and wit. She was the only one of his acquaintance that could battle verbally with him and make him laugh with a single comment, or a look and he missed that more than he cared to admit.

Their exchange during the walk had proved
to him how much he missed her. When she started to banter with him slightly, oh it had not been as comfortable as it had once been, but she had tried. It was only through sheer anger at her obvious dismissal of what they had shared that had made him able to get through the exchange without falling back into the way they had been. It would have been so easy, but instead he had given in to his irrational anger and spoiled the little time he had with her.

He could marry her. I
f he had sought counsel from one of his friends that is what they would have said, but he would not. He did not know how to overcome the feelings that had developed in him since he was fifteen. To marry her was to tempt finding her as imperfect as his mother had been and he could not cope with a revelation like that. He was scared of the emotion she stirred and the feeling made him desperate to escape.

He started to walk back to
the house. He needed to leave. It would soon be over and he could return to Kent and carry on his life without the constant ache in the pit of his stomach as happened when Isabelle was around. One thing that niggled at the back of his mind was that she may marry the clergyman. He was not worthy of a woman like her and she would not, could not be happy with a man like that. He would not challenge her the way she enjoyed. She would be trapped in a life that would stifle her; the thought of that happening to her gave him physical pain.

He was disgus
ted to see her sitting next to the clergyman again at the evening meal. It was obvious the family were promoting the match and it looked like Isabelle was welcoming his attentions, damn her! Did she not see what was happening? He was left alone at the dinner table to his thoughts. He was a very quiet guest. By the first evening everyone had realised he was not the usual amenable addition to such a gathering and most gave him a wide berth. The evening was long and tedious and he would never be as glad to attend a wedding and make his escape as soon as possible afterwards.

*

Isabelle opened her eyes slowly on the morning of the wedding. Her life was going to change forever after this day, as much as if she was the bride herself. She was filled with apprehension, but was determined to enjoy the day for the sake of Mary and James. They were the two people she loved most in the world, apart from one other, but she refused to dwell on him or his unreasonable moods since he had entered her family home. Today was all about James and Mary. She rose to prepare for the festivities, she was going to try and make this a perfect day for them both.

The church was filled with guests when Mary and Isabelle arrived. Mary looked elegant in the cream silk she wore. A simple bonnet adorned with small flowers hid a blushing face when she looked down.
She was not used to being the centre of attention and found the experience overwhelming. Isabelle was a bridesmaid for Mary and had dressed in a pale blue silk gown, edged in cream to match Mary’s dress. The modesty had worked to show off the assets of both ladies to success. They both held small bouquets of cream flowers to finish off their outfits.

The music started and the walk down the aisle
began. James looked handsome as he stood before Mr Roberts. His face lit up when he turned and saw Mary. Isabelle felt a warm glow inside for the two people that were so important to her. Mr Roberts gave her a smile when she reached the altar with Mary and Isabelle returned the smile as their eyes met.

Tom
saw the exchange between Mr Roberts and Isabelle, and his stomach turned. He had once had that pleasure of having Isabelle seek out his eyes when something amused her, but she no longer turned to him and it hurt. His eyes never left Isabelle throughout the service and for the first time the reality of what he had rejected hit him. She was beautiful and he could not help smile when he could read her expression as the sermon was given. She never could hide her thoughts and his mouth twitched in amusement as he thought that she would never be as pious and as dutiful a wife as the sermon demanded. It brought it home to him even more that she would not be suited to the life of being married to a clergyman. He could not believe she was seriously considering marrying such a man who would restrict her personality when she had rejected other, more suitable men.

The group returned to the house and the festivities began. Food and
wine flowed freely and Tom indulged more than he usually did in company. He had finally realised that he had lost Isabelle. It was obvious she welcomed the clergyman’s advances; whenever they could they would stand or sit together talking, often to the exclusion of the rest of the party, which clearly would send out a message that they were betrothed, even if it was not yet publicly announced. His acknowledgement of his loss of Isabelle made him realise that there was nothing he wanted more in life than to claim her as his, whatever the consequences. The problem was she would refuse any proposal he made. He had hurt her more than she deserved and he knew that she did not even owe civility to him, let alone agreeing to give him a time to make her believe that he loved her and was worthy of another chance.

H
e drank more and more as the time progressed, constantly watching Isabelle and quietly driving himself insane, beyond all rational thought. He was eventually overcome by the need for some fresh air because of his overindulgence and he left the room. He stood outside for a while the air clearing his mind, but not easing his inner turmoil by settling his feelings, this was torture and he needed to get away. He returned inside. He had decided that he was going to take his leave of James immediately whether it was appropriate or not, there was no point prolonging the torment, he had come to put his feelings in order and instead he was in a greater turmoil than if he had stayed away. There was no reason to stay any longer.

He walked through the hallway, but faltered as he saw Isabelle before him. She had her back to
the door he had entered through; she had come out of the library and was closing the door. She was humming quietly to herself and he had to smile as he remembered her words when she had explained she could not hold a tune. She was not wrong; he could tell she was off key. The sight of her and the effect she had on him, being able to unconsciously make him smile even without trying made him pause. He started as if to speak to her but then before uttering a word made a momentous decision and moved into action.

Isabelle heard hurried steps behind her, but before she had chance to turn around she was picked up and thrust into the library. The door was kicked shut be
hind her and she was put unceremoniously down on her feet once in the room.

“What the...?” she said as she turned and then her eyes widened in disbelief when she realise
d who had accosted her. Tom saw through his drunken state her expression change from surprise to coldness. “How dare you!”

“I needed to speak to you,”
came the slightly slurred reply.

“Are you drunk?” she asked in disbelief.

“Drinking was all there was to do. You would not have noticed being busy with your new love,” Tom slurred, trying to focus on how to improve the situation, Isabelle’s tone did not bode well for a receptive interview. He had to think of a way to charm her so that she would be willing to listen to him. He had only this one opportunity, but the alcohol was clouding his mind.

“My new love?
You are drunk!” Isabelle snapped. She could not believe he had been so foolhardy in his actions. If he had been seen in lifting her off her feet, there would be more than wagging tongues to deal with; her brothers would not stand aside while she was treated to such disrespectful behaviour. She focused on her indignation because she was scared to acknowledge the feelings his touch had stirred.

Tom
became serious, “Isabelle, you cannot marry him. He will not satisfy you.”

Isabelle looked at him,
disbelief overtaking any other feelings being so close to him stirred. “How dare you comment on who I may or may not marry and express an opinion on what type of marriage I shall have. You are the last person in the world who has the right to an opinion on that subject.”

“You cannot
marry someone who cannot love you in the way you deserve or give you the passion that you need to be fulfilled,” Tom persisted.

“Wi
thout love or passion? You do not know anything about what I want or desire from a marriage!” Isabelle was angry, but his words made her flush, she had felt passion when they had been in the carriage and she did not know if she would ever feel that again. It made her angry with him that he had been able to stir such a reaction and then reject her.

“Don’t tell me you have felt
passion with him! I shall not believe you,” Tom snapped.

“I tried passion, remember?” Isabelle said sarcastically. “Only it didn’t stand up to being that good after all. At least with
a considerate love I will not face the rejection I have had to face twice from you. You gave up the opportunity of deciding what was best for me weeks ago. We had a chance and I seem to remember that your rejection was firm and clear.”

“I was honest with you from the start
about my being against marriage. I seem to recall you being opposed to the marital state also,” Tom snapped still not able to be honest with her about his reserve, but feeling the need to defend his actions, no matter how poorly.

“It didn’t stop you kissing me though did it? How did
you put it, ‘a dalliance’ with me? Very ungallant of you! But I have to admit it did finally put me in my place and make me realise what you thought of me. I am under no illusion of your feelings which makes your concern for whom I marry all the more laughable,” Isabelle said more angry than she had ever been before. Her anger was being driven by the hurt that still bubbled beneath the surface and she wanted to lash out at him and his cold words made it all the easier to act out of character and not care what she said.

“Isabelle...,” Tom
said trying to focus on what he wanted to say to her.

“Don’t Isabelle me!
I do not give you permission to use my given name. I am Miss Crawford to you, only the man I marry will use Isabelle when speaking to me!”

They were startled out of their dispute as the door behind them opened and Mary and James entered. “What on ear
th is going on?” James demanded as he closed the door behind himself. “Your voices can be heard in the hall, luckily it was Mary who heard you. What could you possibly be arguing about?”

Isabelle swallowed, she
had not realised their voices were loud enough to be heard in the hallway. “It’s nothing, just a silly disagreement.”

“It
sounded serious,” James said looking between the two.

T
om had sobered up considerably at James’ and Mary’s entrance. He had thought quickly and had come to a drastic solution. If he had been totally sober, he would have probably never even considered it as it could only hurt Isabelle, but he was a desperate man and Isabelle’s words had convinced him even more that she was going to marry Mr Roberts. He had suddenly realised that at no matter what cost he had to have Isabelle.