by Diana Ballew
“All right,” Alex said, taking his chair, and giving his friend a puzzled look. He shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll pop in - Ah, there you are, me dear.” Alex and the others stood as Isabella walked into the room. “We were wondering about you.”
“Oh?” Isabella didn’t look at Rafe although she must have known he was watching her. She gave a tight smile to the other two men. “Well, here I am. Fit as a fiddle, as they say. Please be seated, gentlemen.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “I hope that you gentlemen do not mind we only offer coffee. My dear father considered tea a woman’s drink.”
Was that comment meant for him? Rafe watched her, his eyes narrowed. She looked exhausted and so beautiful it hurt to gaze upon her. So, she hadn’t slept either, judging by the dark smudges under her too-bright eyes. The thought certainly didn’t make him feel any better. He was a bounder, to be sure. He’d used her. It was not well done of him.
Alex chattered on, not realizing he was only getting singular responses from his cousin and nothing from Rafe.
Those who had an appetite, finished their meals. The group then left the dining room, and when they all walked into the foyer, it was to see the footmen taking the gentlemen’s saddlebags outside.
“Well, little cousin, you’ve fed us and put up with us well.” Alex crushed Isabella to him. “Thank you for taking such good care of our troublesome friend.” He released her and chuckled. “Bet you’re glad to see his backside!”
“Quite.”
Whit enfolded her hand in his and offered her an oddly sympathetic smile that Rafe feared he understood all too well.
“Be well, my dear lady. If you’re ever in London, please do come and see me. And if ever you have need of aid, send for me and I shall come at once, if only to pat your hand.” The edges of his mouth turned up coaxingly.
“Thank you, my lord. I hope your trip has had some enjoyment.” She managed to smile, obviously implying Lisbeth.
Whit laughed and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “You’ll be fine, I’m quite sure.” The viscount took Alex by the arm and the two walked outside, leaving Rafe behind.
Isabella finally looked at him.
“Bella, I . . .” Rafe took a step toward her, wanting to offer her some comfort, his hand outstretched, but she backed away and he let his hand fall back to his side.
“We already said goodbye.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I suppose we did.” God, this was awkward. He suddenly realized he really didn’t want to go. He wished he could stay here with her, just a bit longer perhaps. There were so many things he didn’t know about her yet. More than anything, he wanted a chance to erase the pain he had caused her, to somehow assuage his guilt for what he had done to the sweet lady.
“You’d best go. They’re waiting for you. Your life in London is waiting for you.”
“Goodbye, sweet Bella. Try not to hate me too much.” He turned and left her, hating himself with each step enough for the both of them. He would always remember the look of sadness and longing in her eyes. She would haunt him for a long time to come.
The three friends arrived at the inn just as dusk settled, the landscape of gently rolling hills bathed in a mauve glow. They had made good time and were already past the halfway point home. As they had ridden hard, there had not been much chance to talk. Rafe was thankful for that. His mood was black, indeed.
All during the ride, he had been plagued with thoughts of Isabella. Her incredibly passionate responses had been utmost, but he also thought of her intelligence, humor, determination . . . God, the list went on and on. She was so lovely, so innocent and so very alone. He had used her horribly. He was a royal ass. She should curse his name forever.
After the men entered the inn and made arrangements with the innkeeper, Alex won the coin toss and got his own room, while Whit and Rafe were to share the small hostel’s only other available chamber. After such a hard ride, the three decided cleaning up was necessary before they could fill their bellies.
“Whit, you can go first at the basin.” Rafe kicked the door shut to the room they would share and dropped his bag on the floor. He stripped his coat off, draped it over the back of the chair, then loosened his cravat. He heard the thud of his roommate’s case as he glanced out the narrow window.
“The weather should hold for us.” It was surprising the weather had stayed pleasant for so many days. What was Bella doing now? Was she preparing for dinner? Was she taking a stroll in the garden? Would she caress the fragrant blossoms she loved? He tried to imagine which gown she was wearing.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, Rafe.”
Rafe turned toward his friend. In the blink of an eye, the duke lay sprawled on the floor, a bit dazed. He rubbed his jaw and gingerly moved it.
“Damnation, Whit.” There had been quite a bit of heat behind that punch. Nothing was broken, at least.
“You goddamn bastard!” Whit stood over Rafe, shaking his fist. “You are an utter fool. Did you see the look in her eyes, Rafe? If you made love to her last night, I’ll drag you back there myself and see you married, dense Alex be damned.”
“Good God, man, I didn’t take her virginity.” Rafe said, indignantly. He had never seen Whit so angry. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever seen him angry before now. “Damn me, you’ve been training in the ring, haven’t you? Bloody good shot.”
Whit was still glaring at him, but did at least offer him a hand up. Rafe accepted the offer and stood.
“Look, I was a bounder, yes, and I did give her a taste of what she will experience on her wedding night, if she finds a fellow with any finesse at all, but I did not take her virginity. All right?”
“She’s in love with you. Couldn’t you have just left her alone?”
“I tried, believe me. But you saw her.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “And it’s not love, it’s simply lust. I couldn’t seem to help myself.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, the thin mattress sagging under his weight. “She thought she was plain, and she was so alone. Then she had to go to that damn party.” He shook his head. “I got drunk and practically attacked her. Instead of sacking me, she invited me to dinner of all things.”
“With duck?”
Rafe snorted. “Don’t forget the bloody raspberries. It just kept going from there. I really did try to stay away from her, Whit. I even left Kirkwood Manor for several days. Then Dalton came to dinner and you saw what happened.”
“So, what happens now?”
“It’s over.” Rafe’s voice sounded dead, even to his own ears. It was his guilt. “She asked me to come back and see her again. I refused. She was angry.” He shrugged dejectedly. “I’m sure she’d happily see me in hell right now.”
“You deserve it. But as long as it’s over, I guess we’ll not say anything to Alex.” Whit snorted. “Right under his nose, and he doesn’t have a clue.” He walked over to the basin and began washing. “What the hell are we going to tell him happened to you?”
“You fell over the chair?” Alex looked incredulously at the pair, one having a swollen jaw. “That was stupid of you.”
“Yes, wasn’t it?” Whit chuckled. “Thanks for ordering, Alex. Looks tasty enough, though I doubt it will hold up to Cook’s food.”
“Incredible how your knuckles got bruised helping him up, puppy.” The earl raised a bushy brow, but made no more comments.
By dinnertime the following evening, the three gentlemen were riding up to Alex’s townhouse, which was situated across from Hyde Park. Whit decided to dine there rather than return to his own bachelor’s residence, where they were not expecting him until tomorrow, but Rafe declined the invitation, anxious to sleep in his own bed after so long.
The large Devonshire mansion was a welcome sight, to be sure. It occupied an entire block with its elaborate grounds and rambling structure. He left his horse with the stable hand, and was greeted at the front door by both Tilbot and Simpson.
“Your Grace. How very good to
see you.” Tilbot bowed and stepped back to allow the master to enter the golden foyer. “I trust your trip was successful, Your Grace?”
“Goodness, Your Grace, we’d feared we’d never see you again!” Simpson was already wringing his hands and hopping from foot to foot. “It’s Her Grace, Your Grace.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting some horrible creature to descend on them at any moment. “She has been in residence for three days now, Your Grace.”
“Mother? She’s here?” Rafe frowned. Why would she be here, when she abhorred London in season? “Where is she, then, Simpson? Speak up.”
After Rafe was divested of his travel garb and grime, he was directed to where Mother was waiting for him in the parlor.
“There’s my dear boy.” His mother rose from the chair. She gave her only son a wide smile as she walked toward him, her pale rose colored gown rustling with each graceful step. “And just where have you been? The dolts would tell me nothing.” The look she sent the two servants was sour.
“I was in the country, Mother. Come, have you had dinner yet? I’m famished.” Rafe took her arm and walked her to the smaller eating nook that he preferred. It wasn’t often the enormous dining hall was used.
“I was rather hoping you’d arrive tonight. The dolts seemed to think you would.” Mother, still quite lovely and vibrant, her black hair barely touched by silver and swept up in a chignon, looked him over before sitting in the chair he was holding for her. Her pale blue eyes were sharp. “You’ve changed, Rafe. There’s something new about you.”
Rafe gave a start. “Really, Mother, I don’t think so.” He leaned down and kissed her soft cheek before taking his own seat. The smell of her was comforting, just as a mother should be. Did Isabella remember the soothing scent of her own mother, dead so many years now? “I’m the same charming son you’ve always had.”
Mother laughed. “You are a tease, my boy.” She signaled to the footman. As the soup was served, she eyed him again. “Ah, ha!” She triumphantly waved a bejeweled hand at him. “It’s a girl! I don’t know why I should be surprised. It’s always a girl with you.” She lowered her arm. “Was it some pretty country maid you were chasing after?”
“Something like that.” Rafe took a hefty swallow of wine. God, his mother had a knack for always knowing what he’d been up to. He wished he knew how she did it. “I was tired of the city and needed a bit of a break. Getting too routine, don’t you know.”
“Hmm, I wondered if it had anything to do with Baroness du Champs, myself.” Anne finished her soup. “Do eat, Rafe, it is very good.”
“How the bloody hell do you know about that?”
She laughed. “Madam Rose, dear boy. Didn’t you know a confidant needs a confidant?”
“Good God, Mother, you’re frightening.” Rafe sat stunned. Slowly, he began eating. “What all did she say?”
“Only that Melanie, the little tart, tricked you and when you left her, she got rather bitchy. I think it valiant of you, dearest boy.” She raised her wineglass to him. “Your father is proud, no doubt.”
Again she smoothly lowered her arm so as not to knock the next course from the servant’s hand.
Rafe smiled at her. “Well, it’s all over with now, Mother. Whit and Alex helped to clear things up, for du Champs’ sake.” He shook his head and snorted derisively. “He thinks he actually loves Melanie, the poor sod.”
“Rafe, I do wish you hadn’t taken seriously that absurd talk from your father about love. It worries me to no end. I want grandchildren, son.”
“Mother, you’ll get grandchildren.” Isabella’s face appeared in his mind’s eye. Her daughter would be so lovely, surely a proud little general like her adorable mother. Damnation.
“Rafe? Are you all right? You don’t mean to tell me I’m a grandmother already, do you? And, if so, I missed the wedding, hopefully?”
“No, Mother.” Rafe smiled wryly and pushed the image of the beautiful baroness away. “I promise you, there are no bastards to come knocking on the door. I am overly tired, let us say, from traveling and being away so long.” He nodded to her. “North Bindlefork has short beds,”he offered, as if it would explain everything.
“So, why are you here, Mother? Not that I don’t always enjoy your visits, but you never come to London when the season is on.”
“Oh, there was a fire in the kitchen.” She signaled to the footman to pour her more wine.
“Good God, is everyone all right?”
“Of course, dear boy, but the smell is awful. It will take several weeks to make the repairs, I’m told. I hope it is not too long to put up with me?”
“Don’t be silly, dearest. Your company is just what I need right now.” His mother should keep him properly occupied. He only hoped it would be enough to brace against too many self-recriminating thoughts of his unchivalrous treatment of Lady Isabella.
Chapter 13
“What did you just say?” Lisbeth asked, her teacup paused midway to her mouth.
“I said, I’m going to London.” Isabella had spent the last week in agony. She couldn’t get thoughts of Rafe out of her head. After yet another sleepless night, she had made up her mind. “I’ve decided it’s high time I saw the city. Besides, I need some new gowns and other things. And, I do have to find a butler.” She wondered if she were fooling her friend. By the look she was receiving, she was not.
“Oh, Bella. You can’t go after him.” Lisbeth set down her cup, her pretty bow mouth pursed in disapproval. “Dearest, it’s pure folly. He left you!”
“I know he left me,” Isabella snapped. “I was here when it happened, thank you.”
Lisbeth bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“I have to go, Beth.”
“I suppose, if you feel you must. I would go with you, but Mother would have a fit.”
“I know.”
“You can’t go alone, though.” Lisbeth frowned. “Goodness, who will accompany you?”
“Harry has agreed, and Alice, of course, is dying to come.”
Lisbeth picked up her cup, sipped her tea daintily, then set it down. “I see you have quite made up your mind. I won’t bother pointing out that a stable hand and a maid aren’t appropriate company for a young baroness. So, when are you going?”
“Alice said she couldn’t possibly be ready for two days, so that means the day after tomorrow. She’s been grousing about all the gowns to pack.”
Isabella had been busy all morning making arrangements. She had sent two notes off, one to her solicitor and one to Alex. She had asked her cousin to keep her visit a secret, writing that she wanted to surprise Whit and Rafe. She had also asked him to find her a suitable house for her sojourn, as she couldn’t stay in his bachelor’s residence. She would give this strategy one month, then, whatever the outcome, she would return home. If four weeks weren’t enough time to find out the truth and to ascertain Rafe’s feelings, why then, she would have to live with the disappointment and accept being a spinster.
Lisbeth told her the current gossip on the goings on in London society. Finally, she deemed Bella prepared enough.
“Just be careful. I still think you are in way over your head, but it is vastly romantic, I suppose” Lisbeth said, leaving. “I do hope he’s worth it, in the end.”
It was lightly raining when Isabella’s coach pulled up before Alex’s townhouse five days later. They had left on time and it had taken three days to reach London, just as Isabella had planned. Alex bounded out the door to greet her.
“Cousin! Wonderful to see you, me dear! Come in, come in.” He ushered her in the house and into his tastefully understated study. “I’d offer you a brandy, if you were a man but since you’re obviously not, I suppose I should offer you tea.”
Isabella laughed. “No, thank you, Alex, I am just fine. I don’t suppose you have found me a house already? What I would really love is to settle somewhere.” She gave him a shrug. “I am not accustomed to bouncing around place to place.”
&n
bsp; “I quite understand. And, yes, I had remarkable luck. I found you a lovely little place, just minutes away. Shall we go straight there? Oh, hope you don’t mind, but I’ve hired you a cook. A fairly competent fellow,” Alex gave her wink. ”Not at all like the previous butler.”
Isabella loved the quaint little house. There was more than enough room for her small party. She thanked her cousin profusely, agreed to have dinner with him, and then began unpacking. She had much to do in only a month’s time and did not want to waste even a moment.
“How is Edwards working out for you, cousin?”
“Quite well, thank you.” Isabella sat in her charming little parlor with Alex, the rose curtains drawn back to allow in the meager London sunlight. The butler had just brought them tea. “And as you will soon taste, so is Rolands, the cook. I cannot thank you enough, Alex, for all you have done for me these past few days.”
“Not at all, me dear. Oh, here,” he said, handing her several envelopes. “Some invitations I thought you might like; one is for a ball tomorrow night. If you’d like to attend, I suppose I could accompany you.” He grinned at her. “I rather like the attention I get when I take you places.”
Only yesterday, he had taken her to luncheon at a popular spot and they had been quite hounded by his friends.
Isabella blushed, still not used to flattery. “Will anyone I know be there?” And just whom would she know besides his two closest friends?
“I don’t think so . . . Well, actually, I do believe Rafe said something about going. I could ask Whit to join us, also, if you want.”
“Well, if you don’t think he’d mind.” Goodness, was she ready to see her love? What would Rafe do when they met? Oh dear. She would wear the lavender and silver gown.
“Of course the puppy won’t mind. He’s rather fond of you.” Alex gave her hand a fatherly pat.
“He’s a lot of fun, isn’t he? Lisbeth certainly thought so.”
“Ladies find Whit quite amusing, I assure you. I, on the other hand, intimidate them a bit.” He chuckled. “But only at first. Once they sample me brain power, they are quite mesmerized.”