Free Another Country by Kate Hewitt Page B

soared, given wings from
her own imagination, and the apprehension she’d felt about her
uncle evaporated.
    She knew tonight was nothing but a small musicale,
but excitement raced through her all the same. She couldn’t help
it; this was her first chance at any kind of entertainment. She
certainly hoped Eleanor was as confident a hairdresser as she’d
said.
     
    “Ian, you seem hopelessly distracted.”
    “Do I?” Ian glanced down at Isobel, realising even
as he spoke how accurate her words were. They were walking down
Beacon Street to the evening musicale at a local society matron’s
house. Despite the pleasant evening, the purple twilight and the
bustling of carriages, his thoughts had been elsewhere. “I
apologize, Isobel, I was thinking of a case I had at the hospital
this morning.” He paused, remembering. “A man needed surgery, but
so many of the procedures are too painful to be endured--”
    “Ian, please!” Isobel shuddered. “I cannot bear such
talk of pain and disease. You must forgive me my delicacy.” She
smiling prettily, no doubt expecting him to be charmed, and Ian
managed a small smile back.
    He hadn’t really expected Isobel to share his
interest, but could he marry someone who thought the hospital and
all it implied indelicate? Ian sighed. He had not yet offered for
Isobel, and he had not yet decided if he would.
    He’d been hoping to delay such conversations as this
by Eleanor’s presence, but his sister had more spirit than he’d
credited her with, and cried off.
    He could hardly blame Eleanor for the tangle he was
in; the threads had been drawn by his own blundering maneuvers. He
knew Isobel and her parents were waiting for his proposal--perhaps
all of society was. Only the other day Margaret had remarked
pertly,
    “Dear Isobel. You must see her nearly every day,
Ian.”
    “A few times a week,” Ian corrected, and Margaret
gave him a knowing look.
    “Ah, yes. Only a few times a week.”
    He didn’t want to compromise her, Ian thought
miserably. He just didn’t know if he loved her. And even if he
refused to be such a romantic as to yield to love, how could he
know that Isobel would make a good doctor’s wife?
    “You’re frowning.” Isobel touched his cheek lightly,
flushing as she did so and then dropping her hand quickly. “Is
something wrong?”
    “No, I’m sorry. My thoughts were elsewhere, but I
promise to leave such worries behind. I’m looking forward to this
evening’s recitation.”
    Isobel made a little pout. “It’s not a recitation,
Ian. It’s a musicale.”
    “I apologize again. I gave my thoughts away, I
see.”
    “Perhaps you will give a few more away, before the
evening is over.” Isobel glanced away, and Ian knew what her pretty
jest really meant. She wanted him to propose.
    “I’m at your command,” he said, his throat dry but
his voice light enough for her not to take him seriously... or so
he hoped. What was he going to do?
    “I’m looking forward to you meeting my sister
Eleanor,” he told Isobel as they strolled through the Common. “My
hours at the hospital have prevented me from presenting her to your
family. She arrived a week ago and she’s already had two
invitations to this musicale, one by us, of course, and one by an
acquaintance, Caroline Reid, also new to this city. She’s
travelling with Miss Reid, and we’ll join up there.”
    “I’m sure we’ll get along,” Isobel said politely,
but Ian sensed no real interest and his discouragement grew.
    The musicale was in the drawing room of one of
Isobel’s acquaintances, and promised, Ian realized, to be a
decidedly unsteady performances by amateurs. Combined with the new
awkwardness that had sprouted up between him and Isobel, he
reckoned the evening would be dismal indeed.
    At least Eleanor would be present, with her new
friend Caroline Reid. She’d already left for Caroline’s residence
when he’d come in from the hospital that evening, but there’d been
a note from her