Page 69 of The Rakehell of Roth
Clarissa frowned and leaned in, her blue eyes concerned. “You’re not going to give up, are you? You’re not going to run because your blockheaded husband can’t see what’s right in front of him, are you?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“What do you want, Izzy?”
Isobel blinked. “What do you mean?”
Her best friend blew out an exasperated breath. “The question is exactly as it sounds—what do you want? For yourself. For the rest of your life.” She pursed her lips. “For the next week, then.”
Isobel exhaled. What she wanted was impossible…and brought with it a boatload of heartache. And her silly imagination was already pining for it. Forhim. She should have known she couldn’t engage in anything physical without her heart having its say. It had taken every ounce of her control to leave that room as if the sex had been meaningless, when it had been the opposite. In truth, winning the ridiculous wager had meant nothing.
“I want the fairy tale. But for the next week, I suppose I just want him to see me.”
“Then you have to fight for what you want and it’s my job as your best friend to tell you when you’re being a pussy-footing hector.”
Isobel huffed. “Did you just call me a coward?”
“If the shoe fits.” Clarissa stood and held out her hand. “What do you have to lose?”
Rather a lot, including the fate of her brittle heart, but she didn’t tell Clarissa that. Instead, Isobel took her friend’s hand and let her drag her back inside to get a cloak and bonnet, and have Simmons summon the carriage. Since Oliver had apparently taken the ducal carriage, they would have to settle for the plain black coach that was used for errands.
Within short order, they were in the conveyance and on their way to 15 Audley Street. Her emotions were tied up in precarious knots, and the closer they got to their destination, the more agitated she became. This was a bad idea.
“Why are you so nervous?” Clarissa scolded. “You’re makingmeanxious.”
“I don’t know what to expect.” She swallowed hard. “What if this is a mistake?”
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “We’ve already established that it’s not. Stop falling back to old tactics. I know you, and you’re looking for a way out. I think you like him and he likes you.”
“He does?”
She gave an exasperated sniff. “He took you for a turn in Cock Alley, for heaven’s sake.”
“Clarissa!” Isobel bit out with a giggle, cheeks flaming. “That doesn’t always mean a man likes a woman. It could be just sex.”
“Fine, apart from the fact that he’s hot for you and head-over-heels in lust, I think he cares about you. Trust me, that man has no eyes for anyone else when you’re in the room. I saw it at the first ball we attended. You didn’t see Winter’s face at the exhibit, when he thought you were hurt. I’ve never seen anyone look at someone the way he looked at you…as though he’d almost lost something precious beyond measure. Anyone with a smattering of sense can see it.”
“If you say so,” Isobel said dubiously.
“I know so.”
Still, by the time they pulled up to Winter’s residence, Isobel’s heart had settled into her throat. She was in the middle of calming herself enough to climb out of the coach when Clarissa gave an absurdly shrill squeal.
“Oh, there’s Oliver! And he’s looking so much better.”
Sure enough, her brother-in-law was descending the staircase, his face wreathed in its usual dour lines. Didn’t the man ever smile? Isobel couldn’t fathom what Clarissa saw in him, but to each her own, she supposed.
Clarissa pushed past her. “I’ll get a ride with him. That way, you can take this coach when you’ve finished and not have to worry about me.”
“Clarissa, you don’t even know where he’s going.”
She winked. “Oh, I’m going to convince him to take me to Gunter’s for an ice.”
Isobel watched as a bold Clarissa sauntered over to Oliver, tucking her arm in his and batting her eyes up at him. Isobel half expected Oliver to give his usual reaction and reject her, but instead, she was astonished to see her stern brother-in-law actually crack a smile. Clarissa turned back with a jaunty wave, giving her a thumbs-up, and then they both disappeared into Oliver’s waiting coach.
Well, wonders would never cease.
Smiling, Isobel drew a breath, trying to drum up the courage to go to the door, when it opened and her husband strode out. Hat and cane in hand, Winter looked utterly delectable. She sucked in a breath at the windblown, gorgeous sight of him, and ducked down. He took no notice of the plain coach, instead intent on flagging down a passing hackney. She frowned—why wouldn’t he avail himself of his own horse or carriage?
