She swallowed back her shock.
“However,” he continued, “they misunderstand. There is only one debutante I’m interested in. Remember, it was you with whom I tried to dance last night, if you recall.”
He was playing false. Only a short while ago he’d had the chance to get to know her. But he’d barely spoken to her during their long carriage ride home. He’d merely thrown question after question at her to gather information that she did not have.
It took all her strength to look away from his compelling face. It was the countenance of a man who didn’t cater to anyone, utterly compelling in his sensuality. His lean, hard masculine appeal shouted danger. The smoldering intensity of his regard made her knees quiver. She could not understand why the air of menace that surrounded him added to his appeal.
He wanted something from her, and it wasn’t her hand in marriage.
She usually did not like risk of any kind, did not crave it at all. The very idea of danger turned her nerves to quivering jelly and made her want to run and hide. This man posed a real threat to her—to her safety, to her comfort. She wasn’t certain she was adequately prepared to contend with a man like Arend, Baron Labourd.
Her throat closed up.
“Nothing to say?” he said, his tone light, teasing.
She looked across the park to where Sealey was running and considered her answer. Time to turn the tables. “I’m surprised,” she said eventually. “Puzzled. You have never shown yourself particularly interested in me. In fact, I believed when you escorted me home after the carriage incident a month ago, you could barely tolerate my presence.”
Her comment did not unsettle him as she’d hoped it would.
He merely shrugged. “I apologize if my behavior conveyed disinterest. In my defense, I was worried about Lady Marisa, and about capturing the person responsible.”
That was indeed true. “But you have not yet apprehended the culprit, have you?”
Anger scored his mouth. “No. Not yet.”
“But you are still investigating the incident.”
“Of course.” His eyes glinted with anger.
“Is that what your friends and their wives are doing at Lady Evangeline’s?”
Lady Evangeline Stuart was newly widowed. It appeared that before her marriage to Lord Stuart, she was once engaged to Lord Hadley Fullerton, one of the Libertine Scholars. Evangeline had come to London to find Hadley. Apparently Lord Stuart’s journals were of very keen interest to the Libertine Scholars. They were of keen interest to her too. They contained information on her father.
“I know Evangeline’s deceased husband kept journals. Do the women believe these journals hold clues to the person targeting you?”
If so, Arend must think Lord Stuart, Evangeline’s late husband, knew the culprit. She had overheard her father and Lord Stuart arguing on one occasion. Lord Stuart was asking questions about Victoria.
Was the person targeting the Libertine Scholars really a woman? Was Arend really investigating Victoria?
He did not look pleased that she knew about the journals. She’d been with the ladies on the day they discussed them, but ever since then they had excluded her from the discourse. And she really wanted to read those journals. Her father had been a close friend of Evangeline’s late husband. She hoped Lord Stuart might have written something—anything—about why her father had gone to France and come back married to Victoria. Lord Stuart had not trusted Victoria.
Isobel’s father, Lord Northumberland, and his mistress had been killed in a house fire. Taggert, her father’s head groomsman, had told Victoria that the ground where he believed the fire started was soaked with oil. He was certain the fire had been lit deliberately. Yet her stepmother had not told the magistrate what Taggert had said. Isobel had been suspicious of her stepmother ever since.
Was that the cause of Arend’s sudden interest in Victoria? Had the women found something condemning her in the journal?
She knew Arend was capable of anything to get what he wanted, and for one brief moment she pitied Victoria if she was involved in a scheme against him. Isobel would be terrified if a man as darkly dangerous as Arend decided to treat her as an enemy.
She slid him a sideways glance. He was full of secrets, but she had secrets of her own. She had yet to decide if Arend could be trusted with her task.
To calm herself, Isobel took a moment to seek out Sealey and focus her attention on the child. The little boy was feeding the ducks at the water’s edge, his nanny within arm’s reach.
“I confess, Lady Isobel,” Arend said, “that I’m curious about you. To this day I still have no idea why you were abducted on the same day as Lady Marisa.”
She was tempted to ask him how she was supposed to know, but restrained herself. “If I am to call you Arend, then you must call me Isobel.”
“Isobel.”
Her name sounded husky in his French drawl, which, she noted, seemed to come to prominence when he was trying to get information from her. It certainly set her body aflame and made it difficult to think.
She shrugged. “My stepmother employed Bow Street Runners to investigate, but nothing came of it. I believe it was mistaken identity. The kidnappers took me thinking I was Lady Marisa. Once the mistake was known, they could hardly release me.”
He nodded. “That is a logical deduction. You don’t appear to be too concerned. I would have thought it wise to be guarded at all times in case they strike again.”
She could not fault him on his question. “I did suggest that to my stepmother. She saw no need.”
“Did she say why?”
Isobel frowned. “Now that I think of it, no. To be frank, I’m trying to forget the incident ever occurred. I was extremely lucky.”
“You may not be so lucky next time.”
A shiver passed over her. “I pray there is no next time.”
They continued their walk in silence, his presence still unnerving her. Sealey was now kicking a ball on the grass with another little boy, so Arend suggested they sit on one of the park benches overlooking the lake.
“I wonder if your stepmother is quite as relaxed about your abduction as you think,” he said when they were seated and comfortable. “She has a rather large gentleman with her at all times. He accompanied you to the opera the other night. I noticed because you arrived late.”
Isobel felt more and more uneasy about his probing questions. Men like Arend Aubury did not spend time with debutantes, and these were not the enquiries of a man truly looking for a wife. But the warmth of his body so close had her tied up in knots. There could be no harm in answering civilly.
“We were waylaid because my stepmother was concerned for a family in need. Her previous cook’s mother fell ill, and Cook had to leave us. Victoria wanted to make sure they were coping, and to leave them a food basket.”
—
Arend was surprised at her candor. She had just admitted to a meeting on the night Hadley had been attacked.
Hadley’s attacker had confessed he’d met with a man who’d paid him to kill Lord Fullerton. Accompanying this man were two women. He had seen them through the open carriage door. One woman had worn a hood hiding her features, but the other woman fitted Isobel’s description.
Taking a parcel to a family in need was a good cover. Isobel had neither blinked nor avoided his gaze when she replied. Either she really was innocent or she was the world’s greatest actress.
“You seem to be very interested in my stepmother,” Isobel said suddenly.
Was there a tinge of jealousy in her voice?
“I thought I was showing how interested I am in her stepdaughter.” He leaned into her for effect, his breath brushing her ear. Her tiny emerald earring trembled as she shivered.
“My stepmother certainly appears to be interested in you,” she said dryly. “I saw you together last night. She took liberties with your person, and you did not seem to object. I’m not sure what game you are playing with my stepmother, or w
ith me, but I will not be a pawn.”
Damn. Victoria’s questing fingers might have made this seduction harder. That encounter was why Isobel had refused to dance with him. How could he appease her? Think. His plan hinged on his reply.
The thought of having to outwit and confront the spirited Lady Isobel gave rise to the stirring of familiar excitement. But this time there could be no overt seduction. He sensed that such an attempt would mean that he would lose any chance with her.
He took a breath and called on all his powers of persuasion. “I am not interested in your stepmother in that way.”
“Really?”
Her skeptical tone made him smile. “I’m interested in her because”—he hoped he was playing a good hand—“I believe she is the one behind the attacks on the Libertine Scholars.”
He had nothing to lose in sharing the information. Victoria was already aware they knew. His admission could, however, reveal what Isobel knew.
She showed no horror at his announcement. She merely eyed him warily. “Then perhaps if you stop this silly game of seduction,” she said tartly, “we could help each other.”
Arend was rarely surprised, but this was one of those few times. His excitement grew, and he let the silence between them stretch out.
Finally Lady Isobel sighed and looked across the park at Sealey. “I can quite believe my stepmother capable of kidnapping Lady Marisa,” she said. “Or even murder. That is why I agreed to you accompanying me today. I had no idea our objectives would be so aligned. You see, I think she killed my father. I would like your help to prove it.”
Chapter 4
Of all the things Arend had thought she’d say, those words were the last he’d expected to hear. He didn’t have to ask if she was serious. The expression on her face and the coldness in her eyes when she talked about her stepmother told him that she was.
“Do you know for certain that Victoria killed your father?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and sighed. “I learned from someone who had no reason to lie that the fire that killed my father and his mistress was deliberately lit. A large portion of oil soaked the ground where the blaze began.”
Surely there had been an enquiry, he thought. “Did the magistrate not investigate such a claim?”
Isobel shook her head. “I don’t believe he was ever told. I overheard my father’s groomsman, Taggert, telling Victoria, yet when the magistrate came, Victoria never revealed that information.”
—
Isobel could see by Arend’s expression that he believed her. She was grateful he was one man who did not seem to be fooled by Victoria’s façade.
“At first I thought she didn’t say anything because he’d been found with his mistress,” she continued, “and she was upset at his betrayal, or she was jealous. But when Taggert went missing, my suspicions arose. A week later he was found in dense brush on the estate with a broken neck. Everyone assumed a horse threw him, but I’ve never known any horse that could do so to him.”
He looked skeptical. “You also knew about the oil. Why did she not kill you too?”
She felt her face heat. “Victoria does not know I overheard the conversation.”
An only child, she had learned at a very young age the skill—and the fun—of eavesdropping. It wasn’t that she’d wanted the power she gained from the information. It was that she’d had no one else to talk to, and felt left out unless she knew what was going on in the house. As she’d grown, the talent had grown with her. Now it proved extremely useful.
Arend’s skeptical expression had faded into a frown. “And just how do you think I can help you?”
“The journals,” she said without a pause. “I think the reason you’re interested in the journals is because you believe Victoria is the madwoman seeking revenge upon the Libertine Scholars. Lord Stuart was my father’s very close friend. If you think Lord Stuart has recorded information on Victoria, then I want to know what it is.”
Aaron sat studying her as if trying to find a way into her mind. She understood now why he’d interrogated her after the carriage accident. If he believed Victoria was his villain, he might well believe that she and Isobel were in cahoots. Would he believe her now?
“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 Cassandra had overheard 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 do what?”
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.”
—
Arend thought Isobel would see his idea was an excellent one…until she lowered her hands and pinned him with her intelligent gaze.
“While I commend you on your brilliant strategy,” she said, “I do have a reputation to maintain. I do not wish to be viewed as one of your conquests.”
At the word “conquests,” altogether wicked thoughts entered into his head. He would very much like Isobel to be one of his conquests. Even in a plain day gown, she was delectable. The material seemed to cling to her every curve. He would like nothing more than to slowly peel it from her body and explore her feminine charms.
A Night of Forever Page 4