Page 20 of A Night of Forever
She hoped Arend would know what to make of this conversation, because she did not. The thought annoyed her. How could she be an equal partner in this enterprise when she was already relying on his judgment? She grimaced. A fake betrothal, a searing attraction to her fiancé, a homicidal stepmother with an unknown timetable…what could possibly go wrong?
And on that horrid thought the carriage came to a halt outside of Lady Mary’s residence.
—
He wasn’t here.
Isobel had scanned the crowd as unobtrusively as possible before she and Victoria were ushered to their seats for the first part of the program.
Disappointment surged through Isobel, and anger quickly followed. He’d promised to meet her tonight. How could he go back on their agreement? It had been his idea, after all. If he was having second thoughts, her conversation with Victoria had been for nothing.
A tap on her shoulder gave Isobel a start. She turned in her seat to find Arend seated directly behind her. Relief joined her annoyance.
“Good evening, Lady Isobel,” he said. “You look very lovely this evening.”
She sensed rather than saw a smile flicker on Victoria’s lips. Other guests were also straining to watch their interaction.
Isobel inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
His smile deepened. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you into supper at the intermission?”
“That would be delightful. Thank you.” And she turned back to face the front as Lady Mary began the introductions.
It was not only the warmth of the room that added color to her face. Arend looked every bit the debonair rake.
He’d dressed in a superbly fitting midnight-blue coat, and his white starched cravat accentuated his olive skin and the masculine appeal of his chiseled features. His hair was slicked back—curls momentarily tamed—and a shiver ran through her at the idea of running her fingers through his hair and untaming every one of them.
It was alarming how vividly his mere nearness affected her senses. Not being able to see him, yet knowing he could study her without censure, was so intimidating. She fought to keep her hand from rising and smoothing her own curls at the nape of her neck.
The first hour of the recital took forever, and by the time it was over, Isobel was a bundle of nerves.
Beside her, Victoria appeared as cool as ice as she rose to her feet.
It was only when Isobel did the same that she realized she was trembling. It was one thing to fool Victoria, and quite another to try to fool herself. The truth that was she was looking forward to this pretend betrothal far too much. Suddenly she knew she could face neither Arend nor the crowd.
“Please excuse me,” she whispered to Victoria. “I need the retiring room.”
Her stepmother’s hand gripped her arm. “Running away?”
Like a rabbit pursued by a hound. “Of course not.” She moved to allow Victoria to see the trembling fingers that would add to her illusion of being reluctant for the match. “I simply need a moment to gather myself.”
Victoria studied her a heartbeat longer, and then, seemingly satisfied hers was a case of maidenly nerves, released her arm. “We have plenty of time before the next recital. I’ve pushed you, I know.”
Her stepmother slid a cool glance at Arend, who had moved to the end of his row and was waiting by the door, and her voice hardened slightly. “Let him wait a while longer for his answer.”
With a nod that she hoped conveyed gratitude, Isobel threaded her way through the crowd to the opposite side of the room. She sensed Arend’s gaze on her all the way. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to move toward her.
She also caught the look of glittering hatred he sent Victoria’s way as he went. He was not hiding his dislike.
Once she’d slipped into the quiet hallway leading to the back stairs, Isobel took a deep breath. She hoped Arend had not been waylaid.
As if triggered by her thoughts, the door beside her opened and Arend was there. He moved toward her with a languid grace that did not hide the tension vibrating around him.
His heated gaze burned through the silk of her dress to the pulsing skin beneath. But even the heat of his desire could not stop her shiver.
“I think we’re making a huge mistake,” she whispered before he could ask her anything. At his frown, she added, “She suggested I marry you for protection. She said Taggert had told her about the oil, and that my father’s death was suspicious. I could hardly tell her I knew she had not reported it to the magistrate.”
At Arend’s curse, she took a deep breath. “It makes no sense, Arend. What reason could she possibly have for wanting us to be together?”
