His nights were mostly sleepless, and he alternated between spending his time studying reports and new information arriving from America and visiting Scotland Yard to check upon the status of the investigations. But though he took his duty seriously, he would be lying if he said the reason for his lack of slumber and general unrest was caused by anything other than Isabella and the mounting fear he had lost her forever.
“Will you not come and take tea with me?” she asked, her voice laden with concern.
It was not like Callie to be a mother hen. He must look pathetic. Lord knew he felt pathetic.
“I haven’t the time for tea, Callie.” He sighed, thinking of the call he would have to pay upon Scotland Yard. More witnesses were being gathered for examination today, with the hopes that additional arrests would be made.
But Callie persisted, moving deeper into the study. “Why are the window dressings closed, Benny? It is depressingly dark in here.”
He had scarcely given notice.
“I have requested solitude,” he said pointedly. “There is a great deal of work to be done. Was there something you needed?”
“Yes, there is.” She moved to the window, opening the curtains herself.
He blinked as light filtered through the panes. Right. Perhaps it had been depressingly dark in the chamber. Apparently, London was enjoying a rare day of early February sun amidst all the grim winter fog.
He wished he had some bloody whisky on hand. “If you want to throw another ball, the answer is no. Also no to conjurers, dinner parties, gathering of suffrage societies, and any other form of societal entertainment running through your Machiavellian mind.”
“I do not want to host any entertainments, Benny.” Apparently satisfied with her work at the window, she moved toward his desk with purposeful strides. “I want to know what you are doing about Isabella.”
Isabella.
Just her name aloud was enough to make his heart pang.
He clenched his jaw. “There is nothing to be done, Callie. Miss Hilgrove has rejected my suit, and I must gather my pride and carry on.”
If only doing so were as easy as he made it sound. Carrying on from Isabella seemed not just untenable but unthinkable.
“I greatly regret what happened with Lady Entwhistle,” Callie said then, settling herself in the chair opposite his desk. “I feel responsible.”
He lowered himself into his chair with another sigh. “The fault is mine.”
He ought to have made himself clear to Roberta long ago. Indeed, he ought never to have bedded her. But regrets could not change the past. Nor would it bring Isabella back to him.
“It was poorly done of you to have an affair with her.”
“Calliope,” he chided. “You are not to know of such matters.”
She flashed him an unrepentant grin. “It is fortunate indeed that you were not in Paris, Benny.”
Good God, he shuddered to think what she had been about, running wild on the Continent. Aunt Fanchette had clearly been a poor duenna. He reminded himself to pen her a sternly worded reprimand.
“I agree with you on both counts.” He pressed his fingers to his suddenly throbbing temples. “If you have only come to berate me, you may go, dear sister. I have been doing enough berating of my own.”
She raised a brow. “Wallowing in pity is more apt. How are you going to win Isabella’s heart if you shut yourself inside your study, hiding away from the world?”
He sat up straighter. “I am not wallowing in pity. Nor am I hiding. I am merely inundated with work, trying to do my part to see every last Fenian in London arrested.”
And wallowing in pity and hiding away from the world.
He banished the thought.
“If you say so.” His sister’s voice was skeptical. “But I dislike seeing you so unhappy, Benny. I do not think I have seen you this wretched since Alfred’s death.”
Nor had he been.
“I shall survive,” he told her. “As always.”
Callie considered him. “Have you told her you love her?”
“There was hardly time when she was interrogating me about Lady Entwhistle in the orangery and telling me she will not surrender her freedom by marrying a man she does not trust.” He could not keep the bitterness from his voice.
What a pathetic arse he was.
“Well, you can hardly fault her for that,” Callie said. “Imagine how you would feel had a gentleman with whom Isabella was intimately acquainted approached you. And I do applaud her sense of independence. I cannot say I would willingly give up my freedom for any man either.”
He gritted his teeth. “Whilst I am gratified you agree with Miss Hilgrove that she ought not to marry me, I have, as I said, rather a mountain of work to attend to.”
“Oh, I never said that Isabella should not marry you.” Callie’s smile returned. “On the contrary, I would dearly love to have her as my new sister.”
“Unfortunately, the lady in question needs to agree,” he said wryly. “And since she does not, it is all rendered a moot point.”
“No it is not.” Callie pinned him with a stern glare. “You must go to her, Benny. Tell her you love her. I have seen the way she looks at you, and I cannot believe your feelings are not returned. Isabella is not an inconstant woman. Surrendering without a fight is not the way of us Mannings.”
She was right about that.
Still, he had his pride. Or what remained of it.
“She has made it more than apparent that she does not want to marry me, Calliope. Now please allow me to lick my wounds in peace.” He nodded toward the study door. “And to resume my work.”
“I did not think you were a coward, Benny.” Callie shook her head sadly. “I always thought you the bravest man I know.”
Damn it all. Was his sister right?
“Callie,” he began sternly.
“If you love her, you should fight for her, Benny,” his sister interrupted.
“I love her more than I ever imagined possible.” The admission was torn
