Page 49 of A Night of Forever
“Do stop fidgeting, Isobel,” Marisa said. “Do you want him to see you all flushed and bothered? He deserves a very cool reception. You should make him grovel for thinking you capable of such duplicity.”
Isobel thought so too. She turned away from the window to focus on Marisa. “I don’t understand why he suspected me. I was abducted too. I could have been killed too. Why would I have put myself in a position where I could die?”
Marisa placed the handful of invitations she was reading down on the table. “I asked Maitland that very question. Apparently a woman once betrayed Arend and his partner was killed. He rarely trusts anyone now, and beautiful women never, it seems.”
She felt the heat rise into her cheeks. “He thinks I’m beautiful?”
Marisa stared at her in disbelief. “You are beautiful.”
“I’ve never considered myself beautiful, and now…” She touched her still red, raw cheek. “There is no possibility now.”
Marisa shook her head. “Beauty is not simply perfection of a single attribute of shape, form, or feature. It’s a combination of all. Your body is curvaceous, therefore men notice you. Your face is merely pleasant until one sees the sky-blue color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, and the sweetness of your smile. All of that, mixed with your innocence and joy for life, is contagious. You’re contagious.”
Her friend’s words, the way she obviously believed what she said, took Isobel by surprise. Marisa made her sound like she was somebody special. She knew she wasn’t. She was ordinary. A lonely only child, and later an even lonelier woman.
But, beautiful or not, she had discovered one truth in the last month. Where once she had believed she could make herself content with a marriage of convenience, she now knew that was a lie. Her feelings for Arend proved she wanted more. She wanted—no,neededsomeone she could love. Someone who would love her in return. Someone who would miss her if she were not there.
She needed a marriage where she mattered—facial scar and all.
“You appear lost for words.”
Marisa sounded so amused that Isobel had to smile. “It’s funny how differently we see ourselves compared to how others see us.”
Marisa nodded. “True,” she said. “Many people will look at me and think I’m the luckiest woman alive. Only a few will know I’m simply lucky. I have a wonderful husband. My family and friends love me. I’m a duchess…”
Her words died away.
So much. And yet not everything. Isobel reached across the gap between them, hurting for Marisa’s grief. “But you cannot have a child.”
Marisa wiped a tear from her cheek. “No. I cannot.” Then she squeezed Isobel’s hand, released her, and gave a smile that held both determination and affection. “But I can ensure that many orphans are taken care of. It is enough. I will make it enough. Maitland is being so supportive.”
That was true. “He loves you. Very much.”
“Yes,” Marisa said, “he does. Iamlucky.”
They sat in silence.
Isobel was ashamed to be so wrapped up in her own conflicted feelings for Arend when her friend faced such loss, and with such courage. Marisa did not sit and pine for what might have been. She acted, knowing how fragile life was, not wasting a moment in regret.
It was time Isobel did the same. No more pining for a man who had so little regard for her that he pretended to trust her while all along playing her false. How could a man open himself to love if he could not trust? Arend might be handsome, but there was a darkness to him that perhaps would never let in the light. He might never let anyone bathe him in the warmth of love. She would be stupid to lose her heart to someone like that.
And if she had lost it already? Well then, the rioting emotions she felt whenever his name was spoken needed to be tamed. She needed to have greater self-control. She deserved more from life than second-best.
Finally Marisa sighed. “I’m sorry, Isobel. I know I should have warned you about Arend earlier. He’s a man many women find impossible to resist. He can seduce with one smile, one touch. I’ve seen it happen. I don’t think he’s even aware of what he is doing. Perhaps that’s the French side of him. If you don’t want to lose your heart, be careful.”
Being careful hadn’t helped. “I wouldn’t mind losing my heart to him if I thought there was a chance he’d lose his heart to me,” Isobel said. Marisa opened her mouth, but Isobel held up her hand. “No. Don’t worry. I’m under no illusion as to that happening.”
“I think you should know something,” Marisa began, and stopped speaking with almost guilty suddenness when the door opened and servants entered bringing tea and little cakes.
Isobel held her piece with barely concealed impatience until the butler and maids had arranged the dishes and departed. Then she accepted the cup of tea Marisa gave her. “You think I should know something,” she prompted.
“Yes.” Marisa’s smile was troubled. “Although I’m not sure how much to say.” She hesitated, considering. “I told you about the woman who betrayed him. But Maitland also told me there are five years of Arend’s life during which none of the Libertine Scholars know where he was. They know he left England to seek his fortune, determined to reinstate his family’s wealth lost when they fled France during the revolution. However, he was not in Brazil the whole time. Maitland swears that when Arend returned from Brazil, he was a changed man—and not only because of the woman who tried to kill him. Other ghosts are driving him.”
Isobel sipped her tea, grateful for its warmth in her suddenly chilled body. “Five missing years.”
Such a long time. So much could have happened. And he had never contacted his friends. There had to be a good reason. Was Arend hiding some deep fear or shame? If she could find out, get him to reveal his fears, then perhaps she could help him heal.
“I know what you are thinking,” Marisa said soberly. “Don’t. There is nothing that draws a woman more, that fires her blood more, than a man with deep emotional wounds. Many women have thought they could chase away his darkness. All have failed and paid the emotional price.”
