She touched his shoulder. “Don’t be discouraged. I know you can do this.”
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm. “I will eat when and where and how I wish. I don’t need things cut in pieces for me. I’m not a child.”
There it was, sitting on the table before him . . . All the frustrations of his life, dished up on one plate.
Here, Your Grace, have a serving of helplessness. With an accompaniment of bitter humiliation.
This—this, right here—was madness. He’d been a fool to agree to this plan. Within five minutes at the dinner table, his solicitors would see him for what he was: a blinded wretch. At best, he would be branded an invalid. At worst, he’d be institutionalized. He would lose his title, his fortune . . . possibly even his personal freedom.
And he would lose her. Any ability to protect her. Any chance to hold her tight and feel her sweet touch on his skin.
All because he couldn’t cut beefsteak in the dark. The sheer stupidity of it gutted him.
Meanwhile, the handmaidens whispered and giggled. The knights clanked in their armor. The scrape of metal on metal felt like fingernails raking through his brain.
“I’m not hungry.” He motioned toward the armored footman. “Take this away.”
No one moved.
“Take it,” he growled, “away.”
The armored idiot stepped forward and retrieved the plate. Ransom winced with each creak and clank. At the base of his skull, he felt a headache looming. It was like knowing a villain stood poised behind him with an ice pick, ready to stab at any moment.
That settled it. He was done with this. He rose from the table.
Izzy followed, stopping him before he even reached the corridor.
“It’s my fault,” she said. “I should have known better than to surprise you. I know you must be exhausted. We’re all exhausted. We can try again later. Perhaps for now, you should go upstairs and rest.”
Now he needed a nap?
That was the final indignity.
He said, “We’re done with this. All of this. Thank your Morphinians for their time, and then send them all away.”
“Send them away?” She grabbed his sleeve, holding him in place. “We can practice for as long as it takes. But we can’t give up. There’s too much at stake for us both.”
“You don’t have to tell me what’s at stake.”
Her entire future hung in the balance. Ransom scarcely cared for himself anymore, but he had to make certain she’d be safe.
This plan of hers—passing himself as sighted, while dozens of fancy-dress dreamers looked on—simply wasn’t going to work. He could stand here and argue the facts of it, but he knew Izzy. She wouldn’t surrender that romantic optimism. Not with all her admirers standing about, hanging on her every word. She was too afraid of letting them down.
She was never going to choose Ransom over the goodwill and sweetmeats of a thousand strangers. Even if it was for the best.
So he would make the choice for her.
“I’m not giving up,” he said. “I’m changing the plan.”
“It’s on to Plan E!” one of the knights called out. “Plan E, everyone! Who has the ermine?”
“Not that plan,” Ransom said, gritting his teeth. To Izzy, he said, “There’s no time to lose. Go upstairs and get your wrap.”
“My wrap? Why? Where are we going?”
“To Scotland,” he said. “We’ll be married tonight.”
Married?
Izzy was speechless for a moment. Her brain was awhirl. There were children’s tops that spun slower than her thoughts were doing.
When at last she spoke, she did so carefully. And quietly, though there was no doubt that the assembled knights and handmaidens could hear everything.
“You want to be married? To me? Tonight?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I know. I don’t like the idea either, but it’s the only option. Get your things. We can reach the Scottish border in a few hours, at most.”