A Night of Forever

by Bronwen Evans

  It was far from being the worst. “The men will call me out and the women will skin me alive.”

  Philip snorted. “You were the one who said time was running out. All I know is that, due to Victoria, my sister almost ended up in an Arabian harem. I’d hate to think what else that bitch has planned. We need to discover what she is up to. An experienced man like you can turn any woman’s head. Make Isobel fall in love with you. A woman in love will do anything.”

  A woman in love. What would it be like to have Isobel really love him?

  “After all,” Philip said, “what’s the worst that could happen? Marriage?”

  Both men shuddered reflexively.

  “She’s beautiful.” Philip plowed on. “Young. Rich. What more could a man want in a wife? If she’s in league with Victoria, you walk away with a clear conscience. You certainly wouldn’t have to marry her then, no matter what had occurred between you.” He winked. “I’d call that a riskless strategy.”

  Seduce Isobel. A slow smile shaped Arend’s lips and a familiar desire stirred within him. This was a plan he could fathom. It would be a challenge. He’d never seduced an innocent before. Part of him hoped that if she was as innocent as she appeared, she’d slap his face and run away. If, however, she succumbed to his charms, then—innocent or not—she had the potential to be turned into an ally.

  The seduction of Isobel was now a definite plan.

  Arend had never felt more invigorated in his life.

  Tonight he’d learn her decision regarding their betrothal. Tomorrow he’d let her help him with the journals. After that, if Victoria tried to retrieve or destroy the journals, he would know who was feeding her the intelligence.

  And then Lady Isobel would learn the price of betrayal.

  Chapter 6

  Long after Arend took his leave, Isobel remained sitting on the bench. Even the beauty of the park, with its graceful swans, playing children, and chirping birds, didn’t penetrate her thoughts. All that ran through her mind was the reality of the danger she would be in if she accepted Arend’s proposal.

  She had no illusions about what Victoria would do should she find out Isobel was acting against her.

  She scoffed at Arend’s comment about reservations. Of course she had reservations. Grave ones. A number of them. The greatest of all was her fear for her life.

  She wasn’t scared of death exactly, but it would be wretchedly unfair to die now. She had so much life still to experience. Love. Marriage. Children. Most of all, she did not wish to die a virgin.

  She cast a fulminating glance behind her, in the direction Arend had taken. How it irked her that he could treat the idea of a fake betrothal so casually. He’d thought nothing of making an outrageous proposition. He’d thought even less about immediately walking away and leaving her to agitation and misgivings while she considered his suggestion.

  A betrothal would scarcely affect him. His reputation was tarnished, but his wealth ensured that his rakish ways and outrageous misdeeds would forever be excused.

  On the other hand, she, by accepting his proposal, would cause gossip of an enormous magnitude. Society would see only one reason why a young, extremely wealthy debutante would consider a proposal from such a man as he. From now on everyone would be watching her waistline. Heaven help her if she fainted in a ballroom crush in the next few months. This betrothal would very likely ruin any chance she had of finding a decent match once the ruse was over.

  It would not matter that she was an innocent in carnal matters. Society would jump to the conclusion that she was no longer a virgin. Even if she were to cry off the engagement, many would believe she had waited to see if she was with child.

  The specter of her future rose up before her, dark and forbidding.

  With her fortune, she could no doubt find a husband in spite of her ruined reputation—but what kind of marriage would it be? A loveless prison for the sake of respectability.

  An only child herself, she did want children very much. Several of them. Perhaps that was why she valued Evangeline’s gift, allowing her to pretend to be Sealey’s aunt.

  Isobel loved the little boy with all her heart. If what Arend told her was true, then both Evangeline and her son could be in danger as well. That was unacceptable. She would stop her stepmother before anyone else got hurt.

  Arend’s motivation for helping her also gave her pause. It wasn’t out of any sense of honor or decency, but because he needed a spy in Victoria’s house. For all his warnings about danger, Isobel had the feeling Arend wasn’t truly concerned about her safety. That Victoria viewed her as expendable was something she’d come to terms with. That Arend might feel the same…well, it hurt.

  He might be sinfully beautiful and heart-stoppingly seductive. She might enjoy the fluttering feelings he evoked deep within her. None of those things should prevent her from facing the hard truth: Arend Aubury, Baron Labourd, was as dangerous to her as Victoria.

  Isobel shivered, and realized she was still sitting on the bench in the park. She couldn’t remain there. There was work to do. Victoria had probably already heard about Arend’s very public proposal. Now she had to convince Victoria of her reluctance to accept his offer. Then she had to allow her stepmother to persuade her to change her mind. Above all, Isobel had to make Victoria believe it was her plan that was working, not Arend’s.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to quell the butterflies rioting there. It was ridiculous. She needed to act, not worry.

  On that inspiring thought, Isobel rose to her feet and, ignoring the rest of the park’s interested occupants, joined Sealey’s nanny and suggested they return home.

  —

  Although Isobel had wanted to explain about Arend’s proposal before Victoria listened to gossip, her stepmother had been out when she arrived home. Her first opportunity to broach the subject came that evening as they were seated in her carriage on their way to the musical soirée.

  Isobel was about to speak when it occurred to her it might be wiser to let Victoria bring the subject up. For Isobel to do so could indicate she was considering the offer. So she sat silently in the carriage, biting her lip, wondering if Victoria had heard the gossip, and agonizing over her best approach.

  Just when Isobel thought her idea was a failure, Victoria broke the silence.

  “I had an interesting conversation this afternoon,” she said. “With Lady Claire.”

  Isobel turned toward her, grateful for the carriage’s dim light. “I imagine it was about Lord Labourd’s dreadful display in the park today.”

  “A proposal,” Victoria continued, watching her from the shadows. “In the park. In public. On bended knee. Of course, she was mistaken.”

  “No, it’s true. Oh!” Isobel hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe this is happening. Why on earth would Lord Labourd believe for one minute I would seriously consider his proposal?”

  She lifted her head, and the upset and anger in her voice were only partially feigned. “Why did you say anything to him? Why could you not have left well enough alone?”

  A faint smile curved Victoria’s lips. “Because I believe a man like Baron Labourd could make you happy.”

  In that case, Isobel thought, Victoria had an odd idea of happiness. “Really? I do not think he’s a man who would easily fall in love, except perhaps with himself. Women trip over themselves to be one of his conquests. I can’t imagine his settling with only one woman in blissful matrimony.”

  Victoria moved restlessly. “This again. Have I not told you your ideals of love and marriage are fantasy? Why, even your father had a mistress, and I thought ours was a love match. I certainly would not have tied myself to an older gentleman if I had not loved him dearly.”

  Liar. Isobel fought to keep her disgust from showing. Neither her father nor Victoria had loved the other. They had barely spent any time together. Victoria had been more often in the company of Monsieur Dufort, her—what was he? Man of business? Bodyguard?

 
Definitely bodyguard. Until learning about the ladies’ suspicions of Victoria and her own questions concerning her father’s death, Isobel had never considered why her stepmother would need such a servant.

  Big, mean, and ugly, he’d accompanied Victoria to her new home, rarely leaving his room except to escort her out. Then he never left her side. Even if she was visiting with friends he would stand just outside the door of the room she was in. Someone to be wary of. A man of shadows. Even Isobel’s father had appeared to fear Monsieur Dufort, and yet the man had been nothing but courteous to Isobel.

  But she didn’t want to think about Victoria and Monsieur Dufort. Think of real love. Think of Arend.

  “You may think me a silly young girl,” she said, “but I know what I want. I want a love match. They do exist. Lord Blackwood, for example, is quite vocal about the fact he married for love.” She shrugged her shoulders. “My inheritance ensures I do not have to settle for anything less.”

  Victoria’s head inclined in a nod. “True. But I see your face every time a child walks by, or you notice a mother and her baby. Waiting for love is risky. You might find it, but be too old to bear a child.”

  Cruel truth. “Yes, I do want children.” Isobel let the longing of her heart pour out in the tone of her words, and sensed Victoria’s satisfaction. “But I’m twenty years old. Surely I have a few years yet before I need to worry. Why should I accept the first man—or rake—who comes along?”

  “At least you know this one is not a fortune hunter.”

  “Do I?” Isobel smiled inwardly. “He could simply have spread that rumor himself to fool any lady with a large dowry.”

  Victoria laughed. “Clever child. However, I know it’s true. One day I’ll tell you how I know. But for now I’d advise you to take his offer before some other debutante steals him away.”

  “Please, Victoria.” And as much as she hated to do it, Isobel reached out and took the woman’s gloved hand. “This is serious. I can no longer ask my father his opinion. You know what I want, and that Baron Labourd is incapable of that kind of love, and yet you still say to accept his offer. Why? Tell me why you truly believe I should consider him, and I shall give him a chance.”

  Her stepmother’s fingers tightened on hers. “Because I may not be around for much longer, and although you have money, you are still very naive. I’d like to know you’re under the protection of a man no one will risk challenging.”

  Isobel couldn’t help the leap of her heart. “Are you ill? No, of course you are not. How silly. But why would you not be around? Are you going away?”

  “I am considering visiting the Continent for an extended period,” Victoria said. “For your father’s sake, I’d like to see you safely settled before I go.”

  For my father? No, Isobel thought. For herself.

  “Why have you not said anything before now?”

  Victoria gently disengaged her hand. “I didn’t want to put pressure on you. I thought you’d have selected a potential husband by now, but no man has snared your interest.”

  Not true, but Isobel could hardly tell Victoria that.

  “Unfortunately,” Victoria continued, “there is one even more forceful reason for accepting Baron Labourd’s offer.” Her eyes glittered, even in the dim light. “He can protect you.”

  “Protect me?” Isobel didn’t have to feign her surprise. “Protect me from whom? From what?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you this.” Victoria pressed her gloved hands together and began to clasp and unclasp her fingers. “But I do not believe the fire that killed your father was an accident.”

  Isobel had certainly not expected her to say that. “Impossible!” Yes, she sounded sufficiently shocked. “That can’t be true. Who would want to kill Papa?” Other than you, she wanted to add. The estate was not entailed, and while a distant cousin had inherited the title, the Earl’s wealth had been divided between his wife and his daughter. Upon her husband’s death, Victoria had become a very wealthy woman.

  “I do not know.” Victoria continued to wring her hands and look distraught. “Taggert showed me where oil had soaked the ground near where the fire started. There is no doubt in my mind that it was deliberately lit. I told the magistrate, but he did not seem to think it of importance. Then when Taggert disappeared…” Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “Well, I thought it prudent to escape to London, where there would be more people around us.” She leaned her head back against the squab. “Now you know why I wish you safely wed.”

  Isobel’s head reeled. While she knew Victoria had not disclosed to the magistrate what Taggert had found, she had no idea why her stepmother now thought it necessary to tell her any of this.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said at last. It was true.

  “I do.” Victoria leaned forward again. “I think it an excellent idea for you to marry as soon as possible. Then I can leave England until my investigators find answers. We are targets here. That’s why, when I heard Lord Labourd was considering marriage, I pointed him in your direction.”

  Isobel swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.” She needed to talk to Arend.

  “Say you’ll consider his suit,” Victoria said. “He’s handsome, wealthy, and fiercely protective of those he cares for. I’m sure sharing his bed will be delicious. You could certainly find yourself in a worse situation.”

  She was in a worse situation now. How did she match wits against such a skilled enemy? There was only one thing to do.

  “Very well.” She turned to Victoria. “I will accept his proposal. However, if he flaunts his mistresses or paramours, I shall cry off.”

  Victoria inclined her head. “You are doing the right thing. I expect you will see him at the soirée.”

  Isobel wished she could get a glimpse into her stepmother’s head. “He asked me if I would give him my answer tonight. He is a man who goes after what he wants.”

  “Oh, yes,” Victoria said. “That is exactly what he does.”

  Ominous words. She turned away so Victoria could not see her face.

  She hoped Arend would know what to make of this conversation, because she did not. The thought annoyed her. How could she be an equal partner in this enterprise when she was already relying on his judgment? She grimaced. A fake betrothal, a searing attraction to her fiancé, a homicidal stepmother with an unknown timetable…what could possibly go wrong?

  And on that horrid thought the carriage came to a halt outside of Lady Mary’s residence.

  —

  He wasn’t here.

  Isobel had scanned the crowd as unobtrusively as possible before she and Victoria were ushered to their seats for the first part of the program.

  Disappointment surged through Isobel, and anger quickly followed. He’d promised to meet her tonight. How could he go back on their agreement? It had been his idea, after all. If he was having second thoughts, her conversation with Victoria had been for nothing.

  A tap on her shoulder gave Isobel a start. She turned in her seat to find Arend seated directly behind her. Relief joined her annoyance.

  “Good evening, Lady Isobel,” he said. “You look very lovely this evening.”

  She sensed rather than saw a smile flicker on Victoria’s lips. Other guests were also straining to watch their interaction.

  Isobel inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord.”

  His smile deepened. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you into supper at the intermission?”

  “That would be delightful. Thank you.” And she turned back to face the front as Lady Mary began the introductions.

  It was not only the warmth of the room that added color to her face. Arend looked every bit the debonair rake.

  He’d dressed in a superbly fitting midnight-blue coat, and his white starched cravat accentuated his olive skin and the masculine appeal of his chiseled features. His hair was slicked back—curls momentarily tamed—and a shiver ran through her at the idea of running her fingers through his hair an
d untaming every one of them.

  It was alarming how vividly his mere nearness affected her senses. Not being able to see him, yet knowing he could study her without censure, was so intimidating. She fought to keep her hand from rising and smoothing her own curls at the nape of her neck.

  The first hour of the recital took forever, and by the time it was over, Isobel was a bundle of nerves.

  Beside her, Victoria appeared as cool as ice as she rose to her feet.

  It was only when Isobel did the same that she realized she was trembling. It was one thing to fool Victoria, and quite another to try to fool herself. The truth that was she was looking forward to this pretend betrothal far too much. Suddenly she knew she could face neither Arend nor the crowd.

  “Please excuse me,” she whispered to Victoria. “I need the retiring room.”

  Her stepmother’s hand gripped her arm. “Running away?”

  Like a rabbit pursued by a hound. “Of course not.” She moved to allow Victoria to see the trembling fingers that would add to her illusion of being reluctant for the match. “I simply need a moment to gather myself.”

  Victoria studied her a heartbeat longer, and then, seemingly satisfied hers was a case of maidenly nerves, released her arm. “We have plenty of time before the next recital. I’ve pushed you, I know.”

  Her stepmother slid a cool glance at Arend, who had moved to the end of his row and was waiting by the door, and her voice hardened slightly. “Let him wait a while longer for his answer.”

  With a nod that she hoped conveyed gratitude, Isobel threaded her way through the crowd to the opposite side of the room. She sensed Arend’s gaze on her all the way. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him begin to move toward her.

  She also caught the look of glittering hatred he sent Victoria’s way as he went. He was not hiding his dislike.

  Once she’d slipped into the quiet hallway leading to the back stairs, Isobel took a deep breath. She hoped Arend had not been waylaid.