Page 18 of A Night of Forever
She wasn’t scared of death exactly, but it would be wretchedly unfair to die now. She had so much life still to experience. Love. Marriage. Children. Most of all, she did not wish to die a virgin.
She cast a fulminating glance behind her, in the direction Arend had taken. How it irked her that he could treat the idea of a fake betrothal so casually. He’d thought nothing of making an outrageous proposition. He’d thought even less about immediately walking away and leaving her to agitation and misgivings while she considered his suggestion.
A betrothal would scarcely affect him. His reputation was tarnished, but his wealth ensured that his rakish ways and outrageous misdeeds would forever be excused.
On the other hand, she, by accepting his proposal, would cause gossip of an enormous magnitude. Society would see only one reason why a young, extremely wealthy debutante would consider a proposal from such a man as he. From now on everyone would be watching her waistline. Heaven help her if she fainted in a ballroom crush in the next few months. This betrothal would very likely ruin any chance she had of finding a decent match once the ruse was over.
It would not matter that she was an innocent in carnal matters. Society would jump to the conclusion that she was no longer a virgin. Even if she were to cry off the engagement, many would believe she had waited to see if she was with child.
The specter of her future rose up before her, dark and forbidding.
With her fortune, she could no doubt find a husband in spite of her ruined reputation—but what kind of marriage would it be? A loveless prison for the sake of respectability.
An only child herself, she did want children very much. Several of them. Perhaps that was why she valued Evangeline’s gift, allowing her to pretend to be Sealey’s aunt.
Isobel loved the little boy with all her heart. If what Arend told her was true, then both Evangeline and her son could be in danger as well. That was unacceptable. She would stop her stepmother before anyone else got hurt.
Arend’s motivation for helping her also gave her pause. It wasn’t out of any sense of honor or decency, but because he needed a spy in Victoria’s house. For all his warnings about danger, Isobel had the feeling Arend wasn’t truly concerned about her safety. That Victoria viewed her as expendable was something she’d come to terms with. That Arend might feel the same…well, it hurt.
He might be sinfully beautiful and heart-stoppingly seductive. She might enjoy the fluttering feelings he evoked deep within her. None of those things should prevent her from facing the hard truth: Arend Aubury, Baron Labourd, was as dangerous to her as Victoria.
Isobel shivered, and realized she was still sitting on the bench in the park. She couldn’t remain there. There was work to do. Victoria had probably already heard about Arend’s very public proposal. Now she had to convince Victoria of her reluctance to accept his offer. Then she had to allow her stepmother to persuade her to change her mind. Above all, Isobel had to make Victoria believe it was her plan that was working, not Arend’s.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to quell the butterflies rioting there. It was ridiculous. She needed to act, not worry.
On that inspiring thought, Isobel rose to her feet and, ignoring the rest of the park’s interested occupants, joined Sealey’s nanny and suggested they return home.
—
Although Isobel had wanted to explain about Arend’s proposal before Victoria listened to gossip, her stepmother had been out when she arrived home. Her first opportunity to broach the subject came that evening as they were seated in her carriage on their way to the musical soirée.
Isobel was about to speak when it occurred to her it might be wiser to let Victoria bring the subject up. For Isobel to do so could indicate she was considering the offer. So she sat silently in the carriage, biting her lip, wondering if Victoria had heard the gossip, and agonizing over her best approach.
Just when Isobel thought her idea was a failure, Victoria broke the silence.
“I had an interesting conversation this afternoon,” she said. “With Lady Claire.”
Isobel turned toward her, grateful for the carriage’s dim light. “I imagine it was about Lord Labourd’s dreadful display in the park today.”
“A proposal,” Victoria continued, watching her from the shadows. “In the park. In public. On bended knee. Of course, she was mistaken.”
“No, it’s true. Oh!” Isobel hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe this is happening. Why on earth would Lord Labourd believe for one minute I would seriously consider his proposal?”
She lifted her head, and the upset and anger in her voice were only partially feigned. “Why did you say anything to him? Why could you not have left well enough alone?”
A faint smile curved Victoria’s lips. “Because I believe a man like Baron Labourd could make you happy.”
In that case, Isobel thought, Victoria had an odd idea of happiness. “Really? I do not think he’s a man who would easily fall in love, except perhaps with himself. Women trip over themselves to be one of his conquests. I can’t imagine his settling with only one woman in blissful matrimony.”
Victoria moved restlessly. “This again. Have I not told you your ideals of love and marriage are fantasy? Why, even your father had a mistress, and I thought ours was a love match. I certainly would not have tied myself to an older gentleman if I had not loved him dearly.”
Liar.Isobel fought to keep her disgust from showing. Neither her father nor Victoria had loved the other. They had barely spent any time together. Victoria had been more often in the company of Monsieur Dufort, her—what was he? Man of business? Bodyguard?
Definitely bodyguard. Until learning about the ladies’ suspicions of Victoria and her own questions concerning her father’s death, Isobel had never considered why her stepmother would need such a servant.
Big, mean, and ugly, he’d accompanied Victoria to her new home, rarely leaving his room except to escort her out. Then he never left her side. Even if she was visiting with friends he would stand just outside the door of the room she was in. Someone to be wary of. A man of shadows. Even Isobel’s father had appeared to fear Monsieur Dufort, and yet the man had been nothing but courteous to Isobel.
But she didn’t want to think about Victoria and Monsieur Dufort.Think of real love. Think of Arend.
