Bellmere, England – Spring, 1823
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**Chapter 36: Dangerous Comfort (Part 3)**
Consciousness returned not as a flood, but as a slow, aching tide pulling Isadora back to the shore of the living.
Her eyelids felt weighted with lead, her mouth tasting of cotton and old iron. For a long moment, she lay still, simply breathing, letting the sensory details of the room assemble themselves around her. The scent of lavender and beeswax. The heavy warmth of a down quilt that cost more than her father's entire shop. The crackle of a fire that had been tended with obsessive care.
She forced her eyes open, blinking against the dim, golden light of the afternoon sun filtering through heavy velvet drapes.
"About time," a voice drawled from the corner. "I was beginning to think I'd have to kiss you awake, and I'm fairly certain my brother would rise from his grave just to decapitate me for the attempt."
