The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(16)
But he’d yet to start the next entry when footsteps sounded in the main hall and voices echoed up the stairs to where he stood. He’d have to take the diary with him and risk Lady Isabelle noticing that it was missing.
Stuffing the book into his pocket, he turned and looked the room over to ensure he’d left no other evidence of his presence. Only the candle remained, washing the bedchamber in faint, flickering light. And with a quick exhale, it was dark.
He was out the window and securing his hold on the stone sill when the door inside was thrown open. Two identical ladies stepped inside, the first carrying a lantern, the second a fan that she flipped about in her hand. The fan was covered in flowers, as was her gown—the clothing of a true romantic.
Reginald knew who she was in an instant. He was watching Lady Isabelle.
*
Spring 1817
Isabelle turned at her dressing table but didn’t make a further movement. She eyed the bouquet of flowers that was currently obscuring the butler’s face from view—a large bundle of roses from yellow to red and every variation in between were trapped in that crystal vase. The size of the arrangement was rather impressive…and unexpected. She watched for a moment in awe as the butler set the vase down on a table near the door before recalling herself. “And they just arrived?” Isabelle asked. Her surprise was the only thing keeping the squeal of delight that was rising in her throat from erupting and echoing off the walls.
Who would have sent her such a gift? Certainly she’d shared a quadrille or two here and there with gentlemen, but no one among them seemed likely to have sent such a beautiful arrangement. It could be from Mr. Brice, a small, hopeful voice said from the vicinity of her heart.
“You’re certain the bouquet was intended for me?” she asked, still staring at the colorful blossoms. “It wasn’t for Victoria? Mother?”
“It’s yours, m’lady,” the butler confirmed with a small nod of his head. “It was left on the doorstep just moments ago with your name on the note.”
“There’s a note?” She almost yelled the question in her excitement. The yellow gown she’d already put on for tonight’s ball flowed around her ankles as she bounded across the room with a complete lack of decorum. There was a time to be ladylike—being presented with mysterious flowers before a ball wasn’t that time. She needed to know more.
Inhaling the thick, sweet scent of roses, she leaned closer to investigate. There, wedged in between the stems, was a small lumpy envelope. She reached in and pulled the parcel from the flowers in a heartbeat, her fingers shaking with excitement as she read her name in bold black ink.
Lady Isabelle Fairlyn. Her name was a lovely sight when viewed on a note accompanying flowers from a gentleman. And the parcel seemed to hold something of slight weight.
Everything she’d hoped for, all of her dreams, seemed to begin here. She grinned and turned the small parcel over in her palm.
“If you don’t require anything further from me, I’m needed back in the parlor,” the butler said from the door.
“Of course,” she replied, but she couldn’t look away from the note. “Return to your routine.”
When she heard the door close behind her a second later, she ripped open the letter. This was it. She was about to discover the identity of the gentleman who had cared to send her these lovely roses. But as she unfolded the letter, the weighty item fell from the paper and landed on the rug. Light from the fireplace reflected in its surface. Was that…jewelry? Who had sent her jewelry? Certainly no gentleman would do such a thing. It would be scandalous if anyone knew of it.
She glanced to the closed door. Her good fortune was boundless today, it would seem, for who would know of this but her and her mystery gentleman? Crouching low, she scooped the piece from the floor—a locket in the shape of a heart with a tiny golden butterfly perched on the surface. It couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d designed it herself. She clutched the necklace in her hand and unfolded the letter, anxious to discover who knew her so well as to give her such a well-thought-out gift.
Could it truly be from Mr. Brice? Her heart sped at the thought. Her dreams were coming true! She smiled at the locket, savoring this shining moment. Had Brice finally noticed her? Perhaps so… But even if this gift was from some other gentleman, he could be just the gentleman for her. The flowers and the locket showed that he knew her quite well, whoever he was—and anyone who knew her well would be sure to bring the sort of joyful peace, the escape she yearned for. She took a breath, vowing not to make judgments until she knew who’d chosen to brighten her day. Spreading the paper flat, she read.
Dear Isabelle,
When I look upon your comely face, my world is brightened by the glow of my love for you. Though I have yet to spend time in your company, I knew when I first saw you that our lives would be forever linked. I can see kindness in your eyes and an appreciation for the lovely things that grace this world that I also hold dear. We are surrounded by strife at all sides. Escape it with me. Live with me surrounded by my love.
I saw these flowers and knew they belonged with you. One day I hope to gather some myself from a field while I think of you, but since London has no such lands, I hope these are to your liking. The necklace has been in my possession for some time, waiting for the perfect lady. If you are open to the possibility of love, wear it and I shall know your heart.