find out.’
‘Well, that is certainly not the reaction you would hope for,’ exclaimed Lady Bramwell. ‘How curious; I look forward to meeting Lady Vane myself.’
Chapter Five
A S she waited for Lord Bramwell and his sister to arrive, Isabella grew more nervous even though she chastized herself for being faint-hearted. What harm could a morning visit do? It would be over within an hour, and yet still she could not relax. The beautiful posy of yellow roses she had received an hour ago, along with Lord Bramwell’s card and compliments, had already brought the colour rushing to her cheeks. Instinct told her that Lord Bramwell threatened her current calm and ordered existence, something she had longed for during the turbulent years of her marriage, and indeed, he had haunted her thoughts in recent days with tormenting regularity.
As an antidote, she reminded herself of his reckless character, but in this she enjoyed limited success; Isabella was honest enough to admit that it was unreasonable to allow Sir Seymour’s comments to dictate her view. Harriet had heard nothing exceptionable about Lord Bramwell – he was, she confided to Isabella, considered a Corinthian and a nonesuch, but his sporting wagers were generally thought to be great fun and stylish rather than the reckless madcap schemes epitomized by the likes of the Earl of March. Despite the fact that sport and gambling was woven into everyday life and that most men, both young and old, devised wagers and tests of stamina to occupy their time, Isabella remained wary. Gambling held painful memories for her and she determined to keep Lord Bramwell firmly at arm’s length and treat his visit in the same way as she had Sir Seymour’s. But when Silwood informed her of his arrival, her treacherous heart defied this resolution and began to beat faster. Clasping her hands together and taking a deep breath, Isabella fervently hoped that this ordeal would be brief.
The butler announced her visitors and Lord Bramwell strode into the first-floor saloon. ‘Good Morning, Lady Vane,’ he said. ‘May I introduce my sister, Lady Julia Cavanagh?’
He moved aside to allow his sister to come forward, and Isabella found herself looking into a pair of brown eyes which twinkled with friendly amusement. ‘Delighted to meet you,’ declared Julia, ‘and I see that descriptions of your beauty have not been exaggerated.’
Isabella blushed and replied quietly, ‘It is kind of you to say so, but since my beauty or otherwise is of no importance to my family, it is of no consequence to me. I admire your gown, Lady Julia – it is by Mrs Trentham of Bruton Street, is it not?’
‘Why, yes,’ said Julia in surprise. ‘How clever of you to notice.’
Isabella smiled. ‘Not really – my aunt ordered a gown from Mrs Trentham recently and I recognized her particular style.’
‘Are Mrs Forster and your son well?’ enquired Lord Bramwell.
Isabella, aware that he had not removed his gaze from her face, endured his scrutiny with all the self-control she could muster. After thanking him for the roses, she murmured, ‘Yes, they are both in good health. Harriet is helping Dominic learn his letters; we share the task and spend an hour with him each morning. He is progressing so well that he will need a tutor when we to move to Haystacks— that is to say, our new home in the country.’ Isabella bit her lip in annoyance; she had not meant to reveal even this small detail and hoped that her visitors had not noticed.
‘When my brothers were young, they found it extremely annoying to be confined to London,’ said Julia. ‘They were never happier than when in the countryside, climbing trees, riding their ponies, or fishing.’
‘We were the grubbiest urchins in the neighbourhood and roamed the Chenning estate from dawn until dusk,’ said Hal, with a smile. ‘And although you would not think it from her elegant appearance today, Julia was never far behind, begging to be
‘Well, that is certainly not the reaction you would hope for,’ exclaimed Lady Bramwell. ‘How curious; I look forward to meeting Lady Vane myself.’
Chapter Five
A S she waited for Lord Bramwell and his sister to arrive, Isabella grew more nervous even though she chastized herself for being faint-hearted. What harm could a morning visit do? It would be over within an hour, and yet still she could not relax. The beautiful posy of yellow roses she had received an hour ago, along with Lord Bramwell’s card and compliments, had already brought the colour rushing to her cheeks. Instinct told her that Lord Bramwell threatened her current calm and ordered existence, something she had longed for during the turbulent years of her marriage, and indeed, he had haunted her thoughts in recent days with tormenting regularity.
As an antidote, she reminded herself of his reckless character, but in this she enjoyed limited success; Isabella was honest enough to admit that it was unreasonable to allow Sir Seymour’s comments to dictate her view. Harriet had heard nothing exceptionable about Lord Bramwell – he was, she confided to Isabella, considered a Corinthian and a nonesuch, but his sporting wagers were generally thought to be great fun and stylish rather than the reckless madcap schemes epitomized by the likes of the Earl of March. Despite the fact that sport and gambling was woven into everyday life and that most men, both young and old, devised wagers and tests of stamina to occupy their time, Isabella remained wary. Gambling held painful memories for her and she determined to keep Lord Bramwell firmly at arm’s length and treat his visit in the same way as she had Sir Seymour’s. But when Silwood informed her of his arrival, her treacherous heart defied this resolution and began to beat faster. Clasping her hands together and taking a deep breath, Isabella fervently hoped that this ordeal would be brief.
The butler announced her visitors and Lord Bramwell strode into the first-floor saloon. ‘Good Morning, Lady Vane,’ he said. ‘May I introduce my sister, Lady Julia Cavanagh?’
He moved aside to allow his sister to come forward, and Isabella found herself looking into a pair of brown eyes which twinkled with friendly amusement. ‘Delighted to meet you,’ declared Julia, ‘and I see that descriptions of your beauty have not been exaggerated.’
Isabella blushed and replied quietly, ‘It is kind of you to say so, but since my beauty or otherwise is of no importance to my family, it is of no consequence to me. I admire your gown, Lady Julia – it is by Mrs Trentham of Bruton Street, is it not?’
‘Why, yes,’ said Julia in surprise. ‘How clever of you to notice.’
Isabella smiled. ‘Not really – my aunt ordered a gown from Mrs Trentham recently and I recognized her particular style.’
‘Are Mrs Forster and your son well?’ enquired Lord Bramwell.
Isabella, aware that he had not removed his gaze from her face, endured his scrutiny with all the self-control she could muster. After thanking him for the roses, she murmured, ‘Yes, they are both in good health. Harriet is helping Dominic learn his letters; we share the task and spend an hour with him each morning. He is progressing so well that he will need a tutor when we to move to Haystacks— that is to say, our new home in the country.’ Isabella bit her lip in annoyance; she had not meant to reveal even this small detail and hoped that her visitors had not noticed.
‘When my brothers were young, they found it extremely annoying to be confined to London,’ said Julia. ‘They were never happier than when in the countryside, climbing trees, riding their ponies, or fishing.’
‘We were the grubbiest urchins in the neighbourhood and roamed the Chenning estate from dawn until dusk,’ said Hal, with a smile. ‘And although you would not think it from her elegant appearance today, Julia was never far behind, begging to be
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