Page 83 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
Chapter 31
Who are you, and what do you want with us?
The following afternoon, around the same time as the previous day, Henrietta stood in the shadow of one of the promenade’s elegant shelters. She had made an excuse to Ewan that she wished to check on her gown at Fordham’s. Indeed, she had promised to take the carriage straight there and back, but necessity had driven her to the promenade, where she hoped to spot the mysterious Isobel. She no longer knew what the girl’s surname might be, but she planned to find out.
She had waited almost an hour, with no sign of the enigmatic woman. Ewan would be waiting for her back at the Old Bell, and if she lingered any longer, he would begin to grow suspicious. She had evaded her father’s soldiers, but they’d all come running if they thought she was in trouble. Irritated, she turned on her heel to head back to the carriage.
A shadow distracted her attention—a blur in the corner of her eye. She whirled around to discover a figure darting back into the recess behind a shelter a short distance away. It could only be Isobel; Henrietta would have known that dark hair and thin frame anywhere. Moreover, she was wearing the same threadbare gown that she’d been wearing the first time.
“Stop, you!” Henrietta bellowed, startling a couple nearby. Paying them no heed, she hurried after the rapidly-departing woman. This time, she would not escape.
Why is she spying on me in this manner? Has Mr. Booth sent her to follow my every move?It made perfect sense. She had told nobody of her plan to leave the Old Bell, but perhaps this woman had been employed to trail her at all times, regardless of where she went.I will have to pay closer attention to the people who linger around the inn.
She raced behind the promenade shelter, only to find that the woman had vanished into thin air. Infuriated by Isobel’s apparent evasiveness, she stalked the surrounding area for ten more minutes, before giving up and returning to the carriage.
I will find you, whoever you are. You may count on that.
* * *
The following evening, still somewhat irked by her inability to discover the identity of the mysterious woman, Henrietta took her snifter of brandy and stepped out into the cool evening air. The inn had a pleasant garden, which she had enjoyed very little since arriving. Ewan had retired to his rooms, and her mother and father were still inside. It was a pleasant moment of private reverie, with her and the sea, and nothing else.
She glanced up at the window of her bedchamber, knowing it looked out on the same view. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of the Marquess. They had grown so much closer than she ever could have imagined and, now, she was not certain she could picture an existence without him. How that had occurred, she had no idea, but it seemed as though a divine providence was giving them a sliver of happiness.
A sight startled her. There was a face at the window above, where her bedchamber sat. For a moment, she wondered if she was seeing things, for once she had blinked to clear her vision, the apparition had disappeared. A bite of terror nipped at her heart. She had not seen the face clearly, merely a pale glint in the gloom, and a set of eyes fixed on her.
“There you are,” a voice spoke.
Henrietta whirled around in fright. “Who goes there?”
“Your husband,” Ewan replied, stepping into the faint torchlight that flickered from the backdoor’s iron sconce.
She held her hand to her heart. “My Lord, you must not do that. You scared me half to death, creeping out of the shadows like a common ruffian.”
He chuckled. “’I’m a common ruffian, am I?”
“You might have been.”
“Well, there is nothing to fear now, for I am here to protect you from the creatures that lurk in the darkness.” He stepped forward, a shy smile on his face. Immediately, her fear softened. He had that effect on her. Whenever he was near, she felt as though no man could harm her—especially not Mr. Booth.
“You really ought to announce yourself first, before you approach a lone lady,” she chided playfully, pulling her shawl tighter about herself.
“Are you cold, My Lady?”
“Not so much. It is merely the chill you gave me when you startled me out of my wits.”
He put his arm around her gently. “Still, you must allow me to lend you some of my heat, for the evening’s brandy has left me feeling somewhat warmed.”
“That is my father’s fault. He continued to pour, even when I told him to stop. Even my mother urged him to desist, and yet he poured glass after glass.”
“It is his nerves, I feel,” Ewan replied. “He is anxious about the ball.”
“I hear the men have arrived.”
He nodded. “Yes, they are settled into another inn, on the outskirts of town. They will remain there until the ball, when they will ensure that all exits are covered.”
“But the parkland there is so large—do you really believe they will be able to protect me if something should happen?”
Ewan frowned. “Are you having second thoughts, My Lady?”
