Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

know
if his gaze disturbed her because of what had happened or whether
he really did look at her differently. She told herself her
carelessness had brought this on her. He was right; a lady would
have made sure the door was firmly shut. It was unfair to blame
Philip because he had unwittingly embarrassed her; it was not his
fault she left the door ajar. She dismissed the persistent thought
that he had been standing in the doorway for some time, and
convinced herself that it was she who was really to blame.
    One day, when Isobel was in the study settling the
household accounts, Philip entered the room so quietly his greeting
startled her.
    “ Ah, here you are!”
    It was a moment before her heart stopped its wild
pounding. “Good afternoon, Mr. Philip. Is there something you
need?” She dismissed the uncomfortable feeling that whatever he was
thinking was not at all proper, still unable to believe a base
thought could enter his mind.
    “ I’ve brought you a book.” This
was evidently true; there was a book tucked under his
arm.
    “ You have?” He sounded amiable
enough and she relaxed at this obvious sign of his high regard for
her. “What is it?” She took the heavy volume he held out to her. It
was a leather-bound edition of Aristotle. “Philip, it’s beautiful!
It must have cost you a fortune.”
    “ I thought you might like to have
it.”
    “ Oh, yes!”
    “ You’re very pretty when you
smile, Isobel.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. Though she did
not want to spoil this return to normal relations, she shook off
his hand. “I’ll be extremely interested to hear your thoughts on
it.” He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the desk
where she sat. “Well, I’d better be going!”
    * * *
    When Isobel got back from Mr. Archer’s later that
evening, she went directly to her room and sat down at her desk,
her head nearly bursting with music. She immediately pulled out her
pen and ink and began to lose herself in the exhilaration of seeing
her music captured on paper. Mr. Archer did not know she had
started composing on her own, and she intended to surprise him with
a piece for fortepiano, flute, and continuo. She spent all of her
free time on the fortepiano at home so he would not suspect her
surprise.
    It was ten o’clock before she put down her pen and
shook her hand. The copy of Aristotle lay on the desk, and, knowing
she would be unable to sleep right away, she tossed it onto the
bed. When she was settled under the covers with the candle moved to
the bed table, she held the book to her nose, closing her eyes and
breathing in the smell of the leather. When she opened it she was
surprised to see a folded sheet of paper fall from the pages. She
immediately recognized Philip’s cramped writing. The short letter
read:
    My sweet Isobel,
I know I take the chance of offending you by this desperate letter,
but I beg of you, read through to the end and you will see I have
no choice but to take such a risk. I am sick with love for you. I
cannot think, I cannot eat, I cannot attend to my studies, I offend
my friends with my despondency. I have been unable to think of
anything but you since—but, I expect you know to what I cannot
refer. I begin to fear I am in grave danger from this fever
threatening to consume me with a greater violence for every day
that passes without a salve for the ravage it causes me. If you
have any feeling for me at all, you will consent to meet me so I
may tell you how I have been suffering for love of you.
Tomorrow evening, number 16 Acton Street. I will wait all day and
all night for you.
    Isobel read the letter twice over before she could
begin to think calmly. He loved her! She read the letter for a
fourth time before thinking that if he was so terribly in love with
her, he ought never have written such a letter asking her to
compromise herself. It bothered her enough that the next day she
showed it to Mrs. Morris.
    “ Don’t you dare think of going!”
she gasped.