Page 13 of A Night of Forever
“Perhaps we can help each other,” he said finally. “You say you are aware of the depth of Victoria’s depravity. But I warn you: once you start down this path, it will be even more dangerous.”
Isobel hated danger, but she hated Victoria more. “She has the world fooled. Everyone sees the beautiful face, fair hair, and feminine figure, and underestimates her. Society sees only the grieving widow trying to put on a brave face. No one sees the intelligence, deviousness, and manipulations behind her façade.”
Arend reached for her hand. “You did.”
“Only because I knew my father.” But for that knowledge, she too might have been fooled. “When he returned from France with his lovely new wife, he should have been happy. I could tell he was not. And she tried too hard with me.” She shrugged. “The truth is, I never trusted her. I still don’t.”
“Very wise.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I should warn you, though. At the ball last night she started a new diversion. She knows I’m aware she is our villain, and for some reason now seems determined to pull you into the game.”
And why not? Victoria loved to play games. “I’m just another pawn to her. Expendable. If I die before I am married, my considerable dowry and all the assets my father left me go to her. If she’s your villain, this is probably why she had me abducted on the same night as Marisa. I could have been killed.” A shudder ran through her. “Perhaps she hoped to fool you all into thinking my body was Marisa’s.”
This time it was Arend who shrugged. “It’s plausible. I’ve wondered about her reasons for days. I still have no idea what her real intentions were, but I don’t believe the carriage accident was one of them.”
Isobel realized he was sharing information she did not need to know. Did that mean he now trusted her? She wished she could read him better.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked. “Will you talk to the ladies, and get them to agree to let me read the journals?”
Arend seemed to be thinking of something, for he took a while to answer. “I’ll see what I can do. You know Lady Evangeline is leaving London for a few days. Portia and Beatrice will continue to go through the journals. I’m sure they’d be happy to have another pair of eyes. There are at least forty journals left to search.”
She let out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Arend would help her. Together, they would get justice for her father. The Earl of Northumberland might not have been the most noble of men, but he had always showered her with love, ensured she had the best of everything, and listened to anything she had to say. He had not deserved to die that way.
“Thank you.”
His mouth twisted. “Don’t thank me yet. Victoria knows that she is running out of time, and a cornered snake doesn’t think before it strikes.”
Cornered or not, Victoria was always thinking. “I’m sure she has a plan for you. Only this morning she was suggesting you’d make me an excellent husband. Why, if she is aware you know about her, is she pushing us together?”
Arend shifted uncomfortably next to her. “Did she indeed? She was pursuing a similar line with me last night at the ball. How beautiful you were, how much money you had, how nice it would be to marry a woman who did not want me for my wealth.”
Yes, Victoria was always thinking. The question was, of what? “Why would she talk to you of marriage? You’re a confirmed bachelor—unless you have let it become known you are wife hunting.”
Was that a flash of embarrassment in his eyes? “I’ve only mentioned it to Maitland and Hadley. When someone is out to kill you, you start thinking of the hereditary succession.”
So Cassandrahadoverheard correctly. Arend was considering marriage. Why did her heart begin to beat faster?
“Your stepmother has such a devious mind,” he said, “I struggle to keep up with its twist and turns. But although I have no idea why she’d want us to be thrown together, perhaps we should give her what she wants.”
So caught up in an image of Arend and his need for children, Isobel had almost missed the import of his words. She blinked, struggling to contain the flush of warmth his words elicited. He could not possibly mean…“Give her what she wants?” she squeaked.
His succulent lips firmed into one straight line. He seemed to be considering something equally diabolical. Suddenly he stood up from the bench, turned to face her, and—in full view of everyone in the park—got down on one knee.
Her heart leaped into her throat. “What are you doing?”
“Lady Isobel,” he said seriously, “would you do me the honor of becoming my betrothed?”
Isabol knew she was goggling at him, but surely he had lost his senses. “You wish me to dowhat?”
Arend smiled. “Careful. Keep your voice down. People are watching.”
She had no idea what he found so amusing. He was…the idea was impossible. Overwhelmed, she pressed both hands to her face. “I cannot possibly have heard you correctly.”
“Did you not just say that marriage between us is what Victoria wants?”
Which meant it should be the last thing either of them should contemplate. “But…but…This is madness!”
“You should be smiling.” He certainly sounded as if he was. “It’s obvious I am proposing. Shouldn’t you be overjoyed?” Then his voice dropped low. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “It would be a betrothal in name only. A way to fool Victoria.”
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