Page 23 of Betrothal Between Enemies

To her credit, Ismay appeared thoroughly enthralled. ‘That probably only worked during the Season. When London emptied out in August your business went with it.’

He nodded. ‘And the price of ice was higher in the spring and summer, which increased our overhead. In the end, we didn’t make any money. All those people I’d dazzled with the idea and projected profits made nothing. They were not rich men who invested with me but local farmers with a little in savings. I gave up all of my own investment and even borrowed from my father to cover the difference to see them refunded. They might not have made any money with me, but I would be damned if they were going to lose what they had because of me.’

Her eyes were soft and contemplative. ‘That was very kind and generous of you.’

‘It wasn’t kind. It had been risky, and I had convinced people to go along with me,’ he corrected. He didn’t want her thinking he was a saint. She had a tendency to do that. ‘This is meant to be a cautionary tale, Ismay, about doing business with me. I’m a starter, not a closer.’

‘I think that’s a lovely thing to be, Alistair. People need ideas.’ Her step slowed. ‘As for business, are we doing business?’

‘Maybe. I had an idea today when I was talking to Professor Loughty. Have you thought of starting up your own publication? I noticed there were some other women there today. Perhaps they would enjoy reading scientific reports written by other women. Maybe they have work they’d like to publish or there are women around Europe who would submit works. To start, it could be a scientific journal written by scientific women for scientific women, a forum where ideas could be exchanged. Then over time it could expand its audience.’

She gave a sad smile. ‘My parents wouldn’t approve of me putting out a journal. They don’t even like me attending lectures and participating in the academy. It’s too public for them. Even if they did approve, I don’t have the money.’

‘Money is no issue.’ He put his hands at her waist and swung her over a mud puddle. ‘I know people with money. The Duchess of Ravenswick is a great champion of women and a friend of your family. Hayes and Evelisse would see great merit in it.’

* * *

She saw great merit in it. It was a wondrous idea. Alistair was intoxicating like this, far more than the two raspberry champagnes she’d downed. His enthusiasm was contagious—or almost so. It would be easy to be swept away by it, to believe more was possible than it really was. That was his gift: his ability to get people excited about a project. Goodness knew he’d roped them all into enough pranks in the summers with that same energy, that same leadership that said he was willing to do his part. He would be her link to those people he spoke of. They knew him more than they knew her. She’d been gone from their circles for years. She had no doubt he’d get the money for her.

But beneath his heady proposal and enthusiasm there lay improbability. ‘Alistair, you are leaving. You will be gone by Christmas. The journal, the donors would disappear without you.’ Perhaps that needed to be said for both their sakes, to ground them, to remind them both this was a ruse. Today they’d accidentally stepped outside it, their choices reflecting care for one another. Alistair had stood up for her, unasked. She wondered now if that was because he was subtly changing the plan on his own. Had he made decisions without her? Men did.

‘Alistair, you are leaving,’ she repeated. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and forced him to look at her, panic rising, the warning wildness starting in her throat. Was he trying to undermine her? Trying to steal her freedom from her with sweetness instead of force? ‘Tell me the truth. Are you reneging on our deal? You promised me you would leave no matter what, that we were in no danger of a December wedding.’ When had she started believing he wasn’t like other men? Shame on her. Her chest tightened. She lurched, but Alistair was faster, recognising the signs immediately.

‘Ismay, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She felt his arms about her, felt his strength encase her. He was silent for a long while, his summer-sky eyes holding hers steady as if he could see into her soul. At last he spoke. ‘If that’s what you want, I will leave. I see what you’re up against, Ismay. I only meant to help as much as I can for as long as I can.’

She let go of his lapels, smoothing them and patting them with her palms. ‘Good. Then, we are in accord.’ But his words echoed the rest of the way home: If that’s what you want, I will leave. It was what she wanted, what she needed. So why didn’t it feel that way? Her freedom was safe. She ought to be celebrating.

Chapter Thirteen

Her mother ought to have been ecstatic. She had the very thing she’d wanted: her daughter settled for life and her husband’s business able to remain in the family. Only, the very things her mother had wanted a month ago appeared to be not so pleasing now as evidenced by the woman’s pacing. Which meant the plan was working at last—something that should fill Ismay with a sense of relief but did not. She was no more satisfied by this than she was by the knowledge that Alistair would be gone by Christmas, if not sooner.

Both she and her mother were on edge: Ismay quite literally, perched as she was on her mother’s blue velvet chair in the music room, watching Lady Rose search for the right words to start what she thought was a difficult conversation. Ismay hoped she found the words soon. ‘What is it that you wanted to discuss, Mother?’ They were scheduled to leave for their Vesuvius outing within the hour. ‘Surely there’s not been bad news? Is it something about the engagement party?’ The party that was only two weeks away. She would be free by then.

Her mother stopped pacing and turned, forcing a smile. ‘Not the party, darling. The engagement itself.’ There were dark circles beneath her mother’s eyes, and Ismay felt a strong prick of guilt at having been the cause of them. What she and Alistair had been playing at had been perceived as real by her parents, as was their worry. ‘Rumours have reached me about you and Alistair.’ Her usually composed mother wrung her hands. ‘The agent who showed you the house had…unfavourable things to say. He feared that perhaps you were being led astray.’

‘There’s no need to be delicate, Mother. What did the agent say? I thought he’d be pleased. We liked the house very much.’ She had to play her part convincingly.

‘He said you wanted to turn the drawing room into a gaming salon and that Alistair talked the whole time about his love of a good wager. The larger the better, apparently, and then capped it off with a mention of his past mistress. Right in front you!’

‘I’m sure he’s had more than one mistress, Mother,’ Ismay said coolly. She didn’t like thinking about those mistresses these days—other women getting the attention of his blue eyes, his smiles, his consideration.

‘It doesn’t matter if he’s had fifty.’ Her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘A man does not mention such things in front of his fiancée or his wife. How a man treats his betrothed can be an indicator of what she might expect in marriage. I would not want that for you, Ismay—to have your husband flaunt his indiscretions in front of you.’

Her mother crossed the room and knelt before her, taking her hands. ‘I am concerned that Alistair is not all we hoped he’d be.’ No, he was quite possibly more. Every day Ismay spent with him seemed to affirm that. He was a man looking for direction, that much was true, but he was not without a moral compass, a good heart or a desire to find direction. He wanted to start a journal for her, and he’d championed her to Professor Loughty. Neither of these things were required for the ruse.

Ismay feigned polite ignorance of her mother’s intention. ‘I thought Father was pleased with him at the warehouse. Lord Danton specifically requested doing business with him.’

Her mother’s hands tightened on hers. ‘He is doing well for the business. We are pleased with him in that regard. But we are concerned he is not the right husband for you. He’s a gambler and a rake with a history of mistresses. There is wildness and then there is debauchery. One can be tamed, the other is habitual. His father was a risk-taker. Lord knows he had to be in order to accomplish what he did. But we fear Alistair has taken it too far.’

‘What are you saying, Mother?’ An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. She was on the verge of getting what she wanted—freedom from an arranged marriage and with little impact to her. The ruse had been their plan, hers and Alistair’s together, yet he’d skillfully manoeuvred things so that the brunt of the consequences fell on him. She’d not asked that of him. She had what she’d sought, and yet her stomach was cold with anxiety, her skin clammy with anticipated loss as her mother said the words.

‘We are considering calling off the engagement. We had hoped that the two of you would smooth the rough edges of the other out, but I think just the opposite has happened. Those edges have been sharpened instead.’ Her mother’s expression softened with concern. ‘But I think some damage may already have been done. You’ve fallen for him, and I do not want to see your heart broken again, not when I know how long it has taken to put Edward Ashford behind you, to revisit the role of marriage in your life. Now that you have, it gives me no pleasure to take it away from you. But Alistair may not be the man for that particular journey.’

‘What about Father’s business?’ She could not accede too quickly, nor could she protest too much without rousing her mother’s suspicions.

‘We’ll have to find another way. It could never be yours, Ismay, if you and Alistair did not marry. In that light, it makes no sense to keep him on. But that’s not a reason to marry him, dear. We will not ask you to enter a marriage where you will inevitably be left heartbroken.’

Ismay looked down at her hands, gathering the right tone. A girl in love would beg for her beloved. ‘Do you not think he is changed? Those wagers and women are in the past, a past we were not even present to witness. He is here, after all. Surely, making such a journey indicates his desire to change.’