' That's simply because your father values certain things my dear' the Viscountess thought to herself but she didn't say It outright. Instead, letting her daughter continue.
' It wouldn't be a problem if he married into the family either, it's been done before, bringing fresh blood and vigor to a title." She was parroting argunts she had clearly rehearsed, which made one wonder whether this was actually her plan from the very beginning. Esralda didn't hold back and continued weaving practical justifications into her tapestry of personal desire.
"That's not what I'm saying, my dear," Isabella said, pulling her closer again and resuming the soft stroking of her hair.
Rather than have her daughter misunderstand, and letting everything go out of place, she chose a more comforting action.
The gesture was basically, a way to buy ti for her whirling thoughts. "You're aware he's already betrothed to another, yet you…" She let the sentence trail, heavy with unspoken consequences, such as a scandal, heartbreak, a battle that could not be won.
"I don't care!" Esralda exclaid, a flash of that familiar, stubborn fire lighting her tear-stained face. The determined erald glint in her eyes shone through the misery. "All I want is to be with him. He makes feel… alive. He's the one person who actually behaves like himself around . He see's , Not just as the Viscount's younger daughter, but as ." Her expression dimd subtly, expertly, the fire guttering out to be replaced by a wounded confusion.
"But I can't have him if Victoria keeps interfering. During the gala, she's already gotten several chances to be alone with him, even before that as well."
' And now she's even began seeking him out....' Esralda gnashed her teeth at the thought.
"She doesn't even love him… I'm sure she's only doing this to spite . To prove she can have anything I want."
The accusation hung between them, toxic and shocking. Isabella's first instinct was imdiate, visceral denial. "Esralda, that's nonsense," she said firmly, though her heart clenched.
"Your sister would never do such a thing without a reason." But even as she said it, a cold trickle of doubt seeped in. Victoria was fiercely protective of the family's standing, sotis to the point of severity. Was it so impossible that she saw this common-born savior as a threat to her sister's prospects, and thus to the family's? Her thods, if this were true, were brutally direct.
She saw no reason for her own daughter to also fall for a man she'd only t for a brief period.
' How are you sure she isn't trying to protect you from such a man because she's aware of how problematic he might be?' The Viscountess thought to herself, the pragmatic core of her nature reasserting itself.
She was afraid of hurting her already distraught daughter further by voicing the suspicion aloud. For the story, when viewed from a less romantic angle, did seem… convenient. A man happens upon a Viscount's daughter in distress, saves her, asks for no reward, and then, with almost miraculous timing, presents a solution to the family's most pressing social crisis, thereby ingratiating himself deeply. It had the contours of a plot from a sensational novel.
Right now, she was beginning to have doubts about her daughter's savior. The serendipity felt orchestrated. What were his true motives? And where did Victoria, her clear-eyed, suspicious Victoria, fit into this puzzle?
"Then what reason is there?" Esralda cried, her agitation spiking again. She pulled back slightly, her voice rising in pitch. "For her to finally rip my heart out like she's always wanted? Or to prove that I'm never going to amount to her? That she'll always be the capable one, the one Father relies on, the one who gets to decide what's best for everyone, even if it destroys my happiness!" The words tumbled out, laced with a sibling rivalry that Isabella had long suspected simred beneath the surface but had never seen boil over with such venom.
The Viscountess's expression turned deeply hurt, witnessing her usually sunny daughter twist into this agitated, almost unrecognizable figure of resentnt. "That's ludicrous," she caught her off, her own voice gaining a firm edge. She took Esralda's chin, making her stare directly into her face, needing her to see the sincerity there. "Your sister loves you. We are a family. Stop worrying so much, all right?" The plea was for both of them.
"I'll go and talk to your sister. Tonight. I'm sure this is all a simple misunderstanding, who knows , it might just be a case of crossed wires and heightened emotions. Victoria may have concerns, but she would not set out to steal your happiness. There has to be so kind of explanation."
The transformation on Esralda's face was instantaneous and profound. The storm clouds of despair parted, and a tremulous, hopeful sunshine broke through. "Really?!" Her voice heightened with excitent, her eyes, still wet, now brimd with a joy so potent it seed to erase the previous hour's devastation.
Isabella's heart, so heavy monts before, lightened at the sight. This was what she lived for, to soothe and to fix, to be the arbiter of peace in her children's world.
She chuckled, the sound warm and relieved, and stroked her daughter's head fondly. "Of course, I am your mother, am I not? It is my job to untangle these knots." She pressed a kiss to Esralda's damp forehead. "Now, you must rest. Wash your face, let your personal attendant bring you so tea. You've exhausted yourself, my love. Leave this to ."
Esralda nodded, sinking back against the pillows with a sigh that seed to carry the weight of the world out of her. She was the picture of docile, trusting relief. "Thank you, Mother. You always know what to do."
Isabella rose from the bed, smoothing her skirts, the silken covers rustling in her wake. She offered one last reassuring smile before turning toward the door.
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