A Dance in Moonlight (The Fitzhugh Trilogy) (13 page)

“CAPITAL FELLOW,” SAID RALSTON.

Before Isabelle could glare at him, the door opened and in came Louise.
Her
glare was far more awe-inspiring: If Isabelle could throw daggers with a look, then Louise launched broad swords with hers.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” she demanded.

“I’ve come to apologize for my conduct earlier today. And I hope for your forgiveness, Mrs. Montrose—and Mrs. Englewood’s,” he said, not sheepishly, but gracefully, with both humility and dignity.

Louise, however, seemed to take no notice of his remarkable demeanor. “And why should I forgive you? You led my sister to believe that you cared for her. Then, at the least appearance of an obstacle, you ran away, not only injuring her, but humiliating her before her family.”

Isabelle opened her mouth to protest. Surely, there was no need to go so far in castigating him.

“I agree that my actions were deplorable. There is no excuse. But if you would allow me to give a
reason,
then it is this: I love Mrs. Englewood. I love her to the depth and breadth of my soul.”

Isabelle sucked in a breath.

“But whereas earlier I’d thought my affection returned in full,” he went on, “the sight of Lord Fitzhugh filled me with doubts.”

“You insult my sister with your doubts.”

“Louise—” Isabelle protested.

Louise held up a hand. “My sister, who is not only beautiful, but candid and loyal. And you treated her as if she were a liar and manipulator.”

“That is not true, Mrs. Montrose. I never thought for a moment that she exploited
me
. What I did wonder was whether she had deceived herself. But of course she hadn’t. She had been honest both with me and with herself.”

He was still speaking to Louise, but he looked directly at Isabelle. “I know I have made a hash of things. I know I deserve any punishment she deigns to mete out. But I also know that I love her more than ever, that my doubts, when vanquished, only strengthened my faith in her.”

The beauty and utter conviction of his words made her dizzy.

Even Louise’s voice softened, though her next question was no less pointed. “Pretty words. But every Tom, Dick and Harry will still think that you are a replacement for Fitz—and some of them will tell you so to your face. What will you do then?”

“Take my own advice and chortle. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, as long as Mrs. Englewood and I know the truth of our hearts.”

“I don’t know about—”

“That’s enough, Louise,” Isabelle said quietly. “Mr. Fitzwilliam made a mistake. He has apologized. I am more than pleased to accept his apology—let us not harp on him anymore.”

Her sister not only did not object, she smiled. “Good. I was beginning to run out of shrewish things to say. No, no, don’t look so surprised, Isabelle. Mr. Fitzwilliam deserved a good dressing down, but he also deserves credit for an apology properly done. I gave him the dressing down, you come to his defense, and now all is well.”

Isabelle was still agog as Louise hugged her. “I will expect Mr. Fitzwilliam to join us for dinner tonight.” Louise lowered her voice. “But afterwards, I will once again pretend not to notice that you have slipped out.

“IS IT TRUE YOU HAVE ACCEPTED my apology?” asked Ralston when they were alone, scarcely able to believe it.

“Didn’t I already say I did?” She gave him a look that was exasperated, but also half smiling.

He closed the distance between them and took hold of her hands. “I love you, Isabelle. And my heart’s desire is to spend the rest of my life with you. Tell me what I need to do to achieve that good fortune.”

“Well, hmm. I will need a cube of ice from the glaciers at the heart of Antarctica, a mountain of sand from the Great Victoria Desert, teeth of a piranha from the center of the Amazon, and the braided tail of a unicorn.”

He loved the light that had returned to her eyes. The entire room glowed with the afternoon sun, but she glowed most of all. “When it comes to the unicorn tail, do you have a preference as to the color?”

The corners of her lips quivered. “White would be good enough.”

“But that’s so common. Are you sure that for your hand, I don’t need to bag a rainbow-colored unicorn tail instead?”

This time she couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “I love you too,” she said softly. “And yes, I will marry you.”

No one would ever convince him that he didn’t levitate an inch or so off the floor at that moment. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with all the joy in his soul.

“Mama, will you come and have tea with us?” came Hyacinth’s voice from the other side of the door.

They pulled apart, breathless, and giggled at each other.

“There are egg mayonnaise sandwiches, Mama,” added Alexander. “You like egg mayonnaise sandwiches.”

“Will you be all right until after dinner?” Isabelle asked softly, smoothing a finger over Ralston’s brow. “You are most welcome to join us for tea, if you’d like.”

“I will be delighted to join you for tea, darling,” he answered in all honesty. Every moment with her was a thrill.

“Well, then.” She gave him a quick kiss, then walked to the door, opening it wide. “Look, children, look who is back.”

Epilogue

HYACINTH AND ALEXANDER’S LAUGHTER, as they chased each other in the gardens, rose up to the open windows. They adored Doyle’s Grange and could not wait to make the acquaintance of Lord Northword’s grandchildren and some of the younger children from Beauregard’s Farm.

Upstairs there were boxes and more boxes. As Ralston helped put up Isabelle’s photographs on the mantel of the sitting room, he suddenly remembered her ancestress. “Where is that miniature portrait of yours, darling?”

“I sent it to a cousin of mine—she just gave birth to a sickly baby and needs the luck more than I do.”

“So the portrait is supposed to bring good luck?”

“Of course.” She kissed him on his lips as she passed him, headed for yet another box. “That was the belonging I had come back to Doyle’s Grange to retrieve. And it led me directly to you.”

He knelt down next to her at the new box, which contained framed photographs of Hyacinth and Alexander at various points in their young lives. Together they cooed over the pictures, which were adorable indeed.

She was on her way to the mantel with a handful of the photographs when she stopped and looked back at him. “By the way, you never did let me know what Mrs. Fitzwilliam said about the Three Bears’ house.”

“Ah, that.” He smiled a little at the memory. “She wrote, ‘Once in a while Goldilocks finds something just right. So have I, by the way.’”

“How interesting.” Isabelle beamed at him. “I would say that also describes exactly how
I
feel about you.”

With a framed photograph in each hand, he rose and stole a kiss from her. “And I shall only love you more when you are a silver-haired lady, stomping your cane about how I will make you late for church again.”

More about Sherry’s other books, and an excerpt from Fitz and Millie’s story,
Ravishing the Heiress,
can be found at the back of this book. Click
here
for a shortcut.

About Sherry Thomas

SHERRY THOMAS IS ONE OF the most acclaimed romance authors working today. Her books regularly receive starred reviews from trade publications and are frequently found on best-of-the-year lists. She is also a two-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award for Best Historical Romance.

Sherry’s next book,
The Burning Sky
, volume one of her young adult fantasy trilogy, will be available September 2013. Click
here
to read the first two chapters.

And by the way, English is Sherry’s second language.

To keep in the loop about Sherry’s upcoming books, sign up for her new release e-mail list at
http://www.sherrythomas.com
. You can also find her on twitter at
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Ravishing the Heiress
by Sherry Thomas: Excerpt

1888

IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.

Not that there was anything wrong with love at first sight, but Millicent Graves had not been raised to fall in love at all, let alone hard and fast.

She was the only surviving child of a very prosperous man who manufactured tinned goods and other preserved edibles. It had been decided, long before she could comprehend such things, that she was going to Marry Well—that via her person, the family’s fortune would be united with an ancient and illustrious title.

Millie’s childhood had therefore consisted of endless lessons: music, drawing, penmanship, elocution, deportment, and, when there was time left, modern languages. At ten, she successfully floated down a long flight of stairs with three books on her head. By twelve, she could exchange hours of pleasantries in French, Italian, and German. And on the day of her fourteenth birthday, Millie, not at all a natural musician, at last conquered Listz’s
Douze Grandes Études
, by dint of sheer effort and determination.

That same year, with her father coming to the conclusion that she would never be a great beauty, nor indeed a beauty of any kind, the search began for a highborn groom desperate enough to marry a girl whose family wealth derived from—heaven forbid—sardines.

The search came to an end twenty months later. Mr. Graves was not particularly thrilled with the choice, as the earl who agreed to take his daughter in exchange for his money had a title that was neither particularly ancient nor particularly illustrious. But the stigma attached to tinned sardines was such that even this earl demanded Mr. Graves’s last penny.

And then, after months of haggling, after all the agreements had finally been drawn up and signed, the earl had the inconsideration to drop dead at the age of thirty-three. Or rather, Mr. Graves viewed his death a thoughtless affront. Millie, in the privacy of her room, wept.