Page 78 of A Whisper of Desire
She lay back and closed her eyes, willing the memory to crystalize. It was as if she should know the person, but the face would not take shape. Once she’d rested and recovered and got some of the laudanum out of her system she might remember what, or more important, whom, she saw.
She could hear the men talking, discussing the name Fleur de Lily, but she needed to sleep again. Later she’d tell Maitland she didn’t want any more laudanum. It messed with her mind and she wanted a clear head to try to remember.
—
“She’s asleep.”
Maitland inwardly smiled at Hadley’s observation as he crossed to sit by her bed. He gently stroked her cheek, and his heart swelled with love. “I can’t wait to get her home,” he answered quietly.
“At least she’s safe here, surrounded by the soldiers.”
Maitland nodded. “If you need to get back to London, feel free to leave. I’ll be fine now that I know she’s all right, and, as you say, I have plenty of armed protection.”
“It might be a good idea to catch up with Arend. Who knows what he might be up to.” Hadley bent to kiss Marisa’s forehead. “How will you travel back to London? It would be a perfect time to attack you both.”
“Dr. Colbert is providing an armed guard to escort us when she’s well enough to travel.”
“Then I’ll take my leave.” He stuck out his hand, but Maitland stepped close and hugged him.
“Thank you,” he said, choked with emotion. “I’m not sure I could have made it through her illness without you to give me hope. I will not forget your kindness.”
Hadley stepped out of his embrace and simply said, “No thanks are needed. I know how important she is to you. I’m glad you married her. She’s helped you come alive…well, if we discount her life hanging by a thread during the last few weeks.” He shrugged, adding, “That’s what love does to you.”
Maitland didn’t bother denying Hadley’s words. He did love her. “You speak of love as if you know something of it.”
“Love is not my friend, but I have experienced its joys and felt its barbed arrows. I loved a woman once, a beautiful young woman, but it was not to be.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She was not worth my tears. A second son, even the second son of a duke, can’t compete with another man’s title and riches.”
What could Maitland say to that? “This is the way of theton.I realize what I share with Marisa is unusual.”
Hadley smiled and squeezed his arm. “Not so unusual for the Libertine Scholars. All four of you have found a woman to love. Women worthy of such love. That gives me hope.” He gave a sad smile and gazed back at Marisa. “You have found a wonderful woman. I’m happy that she will fully recover. Now, if we could catch the bitch that did this to her, I’d be even happier.”
At the words “fully recover,” Maitland’s smile dimmed. He had not confided in anyone the truth of her wound and what it did to her. The sorrowful ache was carving out his insides, but he thanked God he still had her in his life.
The big decision he had to make was whether he should tell her. Maybe it would be better if he alone carried this burden. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her until she was fully recovered and strong enough to hear the news.
—
Isobel couldn’t bear the silence in the carriage one moment longer. The man sitting brooding across from her had ignored her from the minute he’d handed her into the carriage to leave the army barracks, and they had been traveling for almost two hours now.
She must admit the idea of traveling back to London with Lord Labourd seemed almost as frightening as being abducted. He was not a friendly man. However, his dark countenance seemed to enhance his good looks. A look of danger and menace permeated from his silent corner of the carriage. If he were not so appealing to the eye, her journey would be even worse.
What preyed on her mind was that she had no idea how Marisa was faring. They’d left before Marisa gained consciousness. Plus, she thought she’d heard His Grace tell Lord Labourd that Marisa had a slight fever. Speaking of fevers…it seemed very hot in the carriage.
Or perhaps it was her response to the man sitting silently across from her.
Lucky for Isobel, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t seem to notice her fascinated observation. She risked another stare his way. What was it about a man who wore his hair in a riot of curls yet still appeared completely masculine?
“I’m still not very clear on how and why you were kidnapped.”
She almost let out a squeal. His quiet question sounded so loud, and threatening, after not speaking to her for so long.
“Then we have something in common. I have no idea why I was taken. Perhaps they mistook me for Marisa?”
His dark eyes studied her intently and she almost squirmed in her seat. Why did he make her feel guilty when she had nothing to do with this situation? She barely knew any of the Libertine Scholars.
