Soph—”
Her voice trailed off. Forks teetered midair.
“Sophia,” his mother completed smoothly. “We know Sophia, dear.”
“Yes, of course you do,” Isabel murmured. She cast a guilty look at Toby.
He forced a smile and a wave of nonchalance. “Go on then, darling,” he said, although he hoped she wouldn’t.
“Sophia has agreed to sketch a portrait of little Peter Jeffers, to illustrate the pamphlet. We must put a human face to the climbing boys’ misery, to stir the hearts of potential donors. Augusta, don’t you agree?”
“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Augusta answered. “Can your sister provide a sample before the next meeting?”
And on and on it went through dessert—which, of course, Isabel did not eat. Toby stabbed at his portion of quince tart. It wasn’t that he begrudged Isabel her good deeds—he just wished she’d warm up to him a bit. After nearly six weeks, he was still clinging to this betrothal by the skin of his teeth and an arm-long list of absurd promises.
By his own agreement with Gray, he had to keep Isabel smiling. And none of his usual methods—compliments, jests, fawning attention, little gifts—earned even the slightest twitch of her lips. No, there was nothing to make Isabel Grayson smile like an impetuous act of self-denial:
Yes, of course I’ll raise funds for the dispensary’s new building.
Though I’d just as soon pay for the thing myself .
Certainly, I’ll canvass the gentlemen’s club for subscriptions.
The day they terminate my membership .
Absolutely, I’ll let grimy gutter waifs ride on my shoulders.
Can’t I just give them a pony instead?
No, I didn’t notice the children had fleas.
Scratch, scratch, scratch …
Charity was all well and good, but Isabel’s version of it was extreme. If he made it to their wedding before completely impoverishing or debasing himself, it would be a small miracle. Of course, Toby would promise Isabel damn near anything now. Once they were safely married, he could negotiate different terms. But it bewildered him that even after weeks, none of his romantic overtures swayed her in the least. By what cruel twist of fate had he proposed to the one woman in creation who remained immune to all his practiced charm?
Well, if he was honest with himself, Toby had to admit there were apparently two women in creation who were immune to his charms. And the first had already jilted him.
Isabel said, “I long for the day we can disband the Society altogether.”
Now that remark piqued Toby’s attention. There was a sentiment he could wholeheartedly endorse.
“Yes,” Augusta agreed. “If only Parliament would pass meaningful restrictions on child labor, none of these efforts would be necessary.”
“Oh dear,” Reginald interrupted. “I smell a new charitable venture in the offing. The Society for Obviating the Necessity of the Society for the Obviating the Necessity of Climbing Boys …”
Isabel gave a soft laugh. “No, no. There is no need for another Society. Once Toby assumes his place in Parliament, he will take up that cause.”
“Toby,” Reginald echoed. “In Parliament.”
“Yes, of course.”
With an unladylike burst of laughter, Augusta turned to him. “Has Mr. Yorke heard of this?
Toby, she can’t be serious.”
“Augusta.” Toby inhaled slowly through his nose. “Isabel is always serious.”
Of course, the notion of him serving in Parliament was patently absurd, but he couldn’t very well admit it. Not when Isabel looked at him with expectation in those dark, solemn eyes.
Promise her anything. Keep her happy. Make her smile .
“And on Isabel’s counsel,” he said, “I’ve been giving the matter serious consideration.”
Isabel didn’t smile. She beamed, and Toby viewed the expression with profound gratitude and just a trace of alarm. God, what wouldn’t he promise her, just to earn her approval? It was a good thing less than a month remained before a clergyman declared
Her voice trailed off. Forks teetered midair.
“Sophia,” his mother completed smoothly. “We know Sophia, dear.”
“Yes, of course you do,” Isabel murmured. She cast a guilty look at Toby.
He forced a smile and a wave of nonchalance. “Go on then, darling,” he said, although he hoped she wouldn’t.
“Sophia has agreed to sketch a portrait of little Peter Jeffers, to illustrate the pamphlet. We must put a human face to the climbing boys’ misery, to stir the hearts of potential donors. Augusta, don’t you agree?”
“I think it’s a splendid idea,” Augusta answered. “Can your sister provide a sample before the next meeting?”
And on and on it went through dessert—which, of course, Isabel did not eat. Toby stabbed at his portion of quince tart. It wasn’t that he begrudged Isabel her good deeds—he just wished she’d warm up to him a bit. After nearly six weeks, he was still clinging to this betrothal by the skin of his teeth and an arm-long list of absurd promises.
By his own agreement with Gray, he had to keep Isabel smiling. And none of his usual methods—compliments, jests, fawning attention, little gifts—earned even the slightest twitch of her lips. No, there was nothing to make Isabel Grayson smile like an impetuous act of self-denial:
Yes, of course I’ll raise funds for the dispensary’s new building.
Though I’d just as soon pay for the thing myself .
Certainly, I’ll canvass the gentlemen’s club for subscriptions.
The day they terminate my membership .
Absolutely, I’ll let grimy gutter waifs ride on my shoulders.
Can’t I just give them a pony instead?
No, I didn’t notice the children had fleas.
Scratch, scratch, scratch …
Charity was all well and good, but Isabel’s version of it was extreme. If he made it to their wedding before completely impoverishing or debasing himself, it would be a small miracle. Of course, Toby would promise Isabel damn near anything now. Once they were safely married, he could negotiate different terms. But it bewildered him that even after weeks, none of his romantic overtures swayed her in the least. By what cruel twist of fate had he proposed to the one woman in creation who remained immune to all his practiced charm?
Well, if he was honest with himself, Toby had to admit there were apparently two women in creation who were immune to his charms. And the first had already jilted him.
Isabel said, “I long for the day we can disband the Society altogether.”
Now that remark piqued Toby’s attention. There was a sentiment he could wholeheartedly endorse.
“Yes,” Augusta agreed. “If only Parliament would pass meaningful restrictions on child labor, none of these efforts would be necessary.”
“Oh dear,” Reginald interrupted. “I smell a new charitable venture in the offing. The Society for Obviating the Necessity of the Society for the Obviating the Necessity of Climbing Boys …”
Isabel gave a soft laugh. “No, no. There is no need for another Society. Once Toby assumes his place in Parliament, he will take up that cause.”
“Toby,” Reginald echoed. “In Parliament.”
“Yes, of course.”
With an unladylike burst of laughter, Augusta turned to him. “Has Mr. Yorke heard of this?
Toby, she can’t be serious.”
“Augusta.” Toby inhaled slowly through his nose. “Isabel is always serious.”
Of course, the notion of him serving in Parliament was patently absurd, but he couldn’t very well admit it. Not when Isabel looked at him with expectation in those dark, solemn eyes.
Promise her anything. Keep her happy. Make her smile .
“And on Isabel’s counsel,” he said, “I’ve been giving the matter serious consideration.”
Isabel didn’t smile. She beamed, and Toby viewed the expression with profound gratitude and just a trace of alarm. God, what wouldn’t he promise her, just to earn her approval? It was a good thing less than a month remained before a clergyman declared
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