Page 33 of A Night of Forever
She needed to fetch her shawl, hat, and gloves from her room. The carriage was waiting below, but as she made her way to her room, a thought struck her.
Before she lost her courage she stopped outside Dufort’s room and knocked. There was no reply. Perhaps he was asleep. She looked up and down the corridor and then knocked once more, louder, and stepped into his room. As she suspected, the room was empty, the bed nicely made.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Where was Dufort, and what was he up to? He never left Victoria’s side. Now suddenly he was gone. She was worried for Arend’s sake. She’d be safe today with a dozen Runners accompanying her, but she needed to get word to Arend.
She’d send a note to Arend from Beatrice’s townhouse.
—
A quarter of an hour later she entered the home of Lord Coldhurst. She was looking forward to the day, as Sealey was a lovely boy. She wondered if Evangeline had told Hadley he was a father. Beatrice and Sebastian must know, because the boy looked so much like Hadley no one would doubt his parentage.
When she’d first met Sealey, Isobel had had no idea his father wasn’t Viscount Stuart. Then she’d met Lord Fullerton. She understood Evangeline’s reasons for keeping the child’s parentage secret. If Victoria learned the boy was Hadley’s, then he’d be in grave danger.
After telling Lord Coldhurst’s elderly butler that she would see her own way to the upstairs drawing room, she mounted the stairs and made her way quickly to the room where the ladies liked to meet.
A few feet from the door she heard her name, and slowed. Then stopped. Portia was talking about her.
“I feel so disloyal,” she was saying. “We should warn Isobel about Arend. I can see her being dazzled, and her emotions are more engaged every day.”
Isobel knew she should walk in and announce herself, but her feet would not move. Instead she hugged the wall with her back and listened.
“I hate it too.” It was Beatrice. “She’s such a lovely young lady. But we can’t say anything—not about Arend and his deplorable tactics, and not about what we have uncovered in the journals. Not until Arend is sure she is not in league with her stepmother.”
Was that what he was doing? Seducing her to test her innocence in Victoria’s evil game? Her heart throbbed and ached in her chest at the thought that last night’s tender passion had all been a lie. No. Impossible. He’d certainly not faked his desire; she’d felt the evidence.
“What absolute tosh.” Marisa sounded indignant. “Isobel is no more in league with Victoria than I. I’m sure of it. She was so frightened of that terrifying carriage ride. I’d stake my life on it.”
Bless Marisa for her defense and her confidence. Isobel wanted to hug her. But Portia was right. She had been falling in love with the rogue. She wanted to kick herself. How stupid was she? Of course Arend’s motive for seducing her could have nothing to do with love. She was nothing to him except an item to cross off his list.Find out if Isobel is in league with Victoria.Step one, seduce her.Step two—
“Then I feel doubly guilty.” Beatrice’s sigh was one of mixed anxiety and worry. “Arend is seducing her, and I can see it’s working. When he lays on the French charm, Arend is irresistible. He’s handsome, rich, and darkly mysterious. We all know what a beacon that type of man can be to a susceptible woman. I’d hate to see her fall in love with him. He is a loyal friend, but there’s such darkness in him. Even Sebastian thinks it unlikely he’ll ever marry.”
“Really?” Portia said. “Grayson thinks he’s desperate to do so. He simply won’t realize it until he meets the right woman.”
Arend had been almost desperate last night, but it hadn’t been for marriage. She wanted to weep at the sense of hurt and betrayal welling up within her. Of course he’d meet the right woman one day. He could have anyone he wanted. It just wouldn’t be her.
“He never talks much about his family,” Beatrice said, “so I assumed he wasn’t interested in having children.”
Beatrice’s comment jolted Isobel out of her self-pity. How could anyone not be interested in having children? Children were both a legacy and a gift. She wanted lots of children.
“Ridiculous.” Marisa scoffed at the idea. “As for his family, his elder sister married a local squire. That match was organized by the Duke himself. His younger brother is a vicar on the Claymore estate. So, you see, he could decide to remain a bachelor and the succession would be safe. But I think his desire for a child of his own will win out. You must have noticed how wonderful he is with both Henry and Sealey.”
Even in her pain Isobel had to admit Arend was wonderful with the boys.
“Then why,” Beatrice asked, “is he so secretive about his family?”
Isobel wanted to know the answer to that question too. At any moment someone could walk up the stairs or come out of a room and see her standing in the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, and mentally urged Marisa to explain.
“Grayson says,” Marisa said slowly, “it’s because he’s ashamed of his family’s poverty. The Duke of Claymore paid for Arend to attend Eton. I suspect that is why Arend’s father did not report what the men did to Victoria. He owed the Duke everything.”
Isobel tried to imagine being in such a soul-destroying position: owing a man so much that one would allow him to hurt another person and not say a word. She couldn’t. It would shame her too much.
“But since Arend’s diamond find,” Marisa continued, “he’s one of the richest men in England. When Maitland heard about the depletion of the diamond mines in India, he suggested he invest Arend’s money for him in case the same thing happens in Brazil. Since then Maitland has more than doubled Arend’s investments. So, you see, even without the mine he’s wealthy, extremely wealthy.”
Marisa’s love for her husband vibrated from her every time she said his name.
“Well,” Portia said, “all I know is that we women have to stick together, and I believe that Isobel deserves to know the truth.” Her voice softened, became hesitant. “I remember what I was prepared to risk for the man I loved. If she’s fallen in love with Arend, she may very well risk her life. I don’t think that’s fair.”
Isobel couldn’t bear to hear any more. The idea that not all the ladies were certain of her allegiance hurt almost as much as learning of Arend’s treachery. Sisters. She’d longed to fit into this group and finally have something she’d missed her whole life—sisters. Loss kicked her in the stomach and she doubled over.
