Charles wished he could wait with Isabella until the appointed time for their outing, but that wouldn't be proper. It also wouldn't work. No, he needed to stay in his quarters, and she would stay in hers until time for Sarah to smuggle her outdoors. Thankfully, it would be dusk by then. Still, the fear in his gut threatened to engulf him.
He walked across the room to stand in front of the mirror. What did Isabella think of him? Was she as taken with him as he was with her? Charles shook his head. There was still the matter of utmost importance between them. Isabella was not from this time and had made no secret of the many wonderful things she would miss if she did not return. She'd made mention of a position at her work that she would find appealing. Would Charles help her return to her time, given the chance? Could he, without losing his heart in the process?
Could Isabella even return, though, if that's what she still desired? They didn't understand how she'd gotten here to the year 1812, so how would she get back? It must have something to do with the closet.
Charles paced around the room until he could stand it no more. He felt like a trapped animal in his quarters. Finally he walked across the room toward the door and headed out into the hallway. May as well check the progress of his plans for the evening. He wanted nothing left to chance.
****
Izzy held tightly to her reticule, waiting for a glimpse of the carriage. Icy winds threatened to blow right through her as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Where was Charles? Had his uncle waylaid him? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The more she stood in the cold, darkening evening, the more she yearned for home with her central heating, fuzzy bathrobe, and thick down comforter.
Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.
Izzy breathed a sigh of relief and stood to the side of the lane, waiting for the carriage to draw closer. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Charles. The man was surely a Greek god. Although she'd seen him every day for the last two weeks, something about him in his dress coat and hat stirred a longing so deep she was sure it would never leave. And she was no longer cold, feeling warmth piping up from her stomach and lower.
This man had become important to her. As much as she longed to return home, she now knew it wouldn't be easy. When she pictured saying good-bye to him, her chest actually hurt. Why had this happened to her, that she'd been in a closet that had somehow transferred her to the year 1812? And even more startling, why had she finally met a man with whom she could imagine spending her life with only to have him living in another century?
Biting her lip, she watched the driver bring the carriage to a stop. Should she approach the carriage or wait for Charles to come for her? Even after two weeks of his coaching on proper etiquette of this time, Izzy still found it wasn't first nature for her to allow a man to do so much when she could as easily do it herself.
The driver, like Sarah, was someone Charles trusted, and the large sum of money he'd paid the man also helped ensure his secrecy. Charles stepped from the carriage to the ground and smoothed out his gloves. He walked the few steps toward Izzy and held out his hand.
"Isabella, you truly are a vision."
Izzy felt heat rise from her neck to her cheeks. "Thank you, Charles. You're most kind."
He raised one corner of his mouth and wrapped her arm in his. "Come. Let's hurry to meet Uncle Sebastian and then on to the ball where you will surely render the lords and ladies of the ton speechless."
Izzy giggled, feeling every bit the princess, which she even kind of liked. Never having been fond of wearing dresses, especially dresses of this magnitude, she found it not altogether unpleasant. But then, she was sure it had everything to do with the way Charles was staring at her, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smile. There was something about the gesture that tugged at her heart.
Charles placed his large hands on Izzy's waist to assist her into the carriage. Even through the thick material of the petticoats and dress, she felt the heat from his gloved hands. If it were any hotter, sparks would shoot from her body. The nearness of him caused her to perspire in the most interesting places. Even her skin felt ultra-sensitive when she was this close to him.
Once seated, Izzy held her breath as the driver took them the short distance around to the front of the house. When she blew out her breath, it emerged as a tiny white cloud. How would Charles' uncle react to her? Would Izzy be able to pull this off? It would be a good trial run before the ton. She held on to the edge of the seat as the carriage bounced. Cold air filtered through the open windows causing her to scrunch further down in the seat. Even though she was grateful for the gloves she wore, it didn't stop her from missing her wool mittens from home. If only Charles could sit with her and keep her warm.