Only because it was expected—and so he’d leave sooner, she hoped—she repeated, “Simon.”
Isabella breathed easier when he moved to relinquish her hand. But rather than place it upon the doorknob, he brought it to his lips and blew a kiss over her fingertips. “Unless the term good night is precipitous? Would you care to extend the evening with additional conversation? I could ring for a maid to act as chaperone or carry you back to—”
“Ah, Isabella, the very person I was looking for,” another voice called down the hallway, causing both relief at the welcome interruption and rapid respiration over who it was. Better still, the smooth voice prompted her erstwhile suitor to finally release her hand. “Lady Redford bid me to consult with you on a matter of great import, if I may,” Lord Frostwood finished just as he reached her side. “Gregory.”
“Frost,” Mr. Gregory returned in a chilly tone she couldn’t help but notice. Upset at having his overture thwarted?
Regardless of his feelings on the matter, she was delighted. Though the tension thickened once the three of them stood there.
“Certainly, my lord,” she said diffidently then nodded in the direction she sensed Mr. Gregory remained, whether reluctant to leave her in Lord Frostwood’s safekeeping or simply reluctant to leave she knew not which and didn’t care. Be gone with you and quickly, she urged in her mind while saying aloud in what she hoped was a properly reserved manner, “Thank you again for your kindness this evening.”
“Yes, well, ahem,” Mr. Gregory stammered a moment. “Good night then.”
Spaced footfalls told of his hesitant retreat. When the sound disappeared altogether, Lord Frostwood blew out a loud breath. “Was beginning to think the bounder would never find the end of the hallway.”
She bit her lip to subdue the smile that threatened. “For shame. He was being all that was gentlemanly, I assure you.”
“What’s shameful is watching the jolter head’s lame attempts at pawing over your injuries. How goes the last one, Issybelle?”
As he accompanied this perplexing question with a light caress across several fingers on her right hand, all coherent thoughts flew mightily from her mind. “Last one? Attempts?”
“Last injury. I saw Harriet’s ghastly behaving goose peck at your fingers.”
He’d been close enough to see that? And he’d taken to calling her Issybelle? Heat blossomed through her; only her dear mama had ever called her that. “I find it interesting that you would inquire about that now yet show no interest when the goose decided my fingertips were for nibbling.”
“Mayhap not all interest can be shown.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Well then, I thank you for your query and am most pleased to impart that I suffer no ill effects from attempting to befriend a misbehaving goose. Although how a newly leashed goose put upon display in a boisterous drawing room is supposed to behave if not ghastly, I haven’t an inkling.”
“And your interest in Gregory? Have you an inkling as to that?” Lord Frostwood fired the words at her. “He was showing his in you plainly enough all evening. What is yours for him?”
“Simon? I only just met him.”
“You only just met me.”
“Then should you not be inquiring about my interest in you?”
“Undeniably I should, but that would require a measure of bravery I do not yet possess concerning our brief association.” He stroked a finger across the back of her hand again. “Especially after such an imperfect beginning. Shall I tell you instead of my interest in you?”
She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from shouting, But of course I am curious about your interest in me, you clunch! Think you I do not notice and am not baffled by it? Showing such exuberance wouldn’t do. Not at all.
“I see the words you refuse to loose flitting across your face. I shall assume your silence equates to curiosity then, hmm?” He took a firmer hold of the pecked-upon fingers and brought her arm up between them, caressing his thumb lightly over her skin.
Her hand trembled within his. “Please do.”
Yet before he did, he released her completely. Dratted gnats! “Ah, but how can one answer aloud that which one has yet to admit to themselves?”
The breath she hadn’t realized she held whooshed out on a groan. “You are the most perplexing fellow.”
“Perplexing in an intriguing way, might I hope? Or perplexing in an annoying way? I would hate to find I cause you any manner of annoyance especially since I seem to find myself in remarkably high spirits any time you’re near.”