A Night of Forever

by Bronwen Evans

  It was easier to let her think he didn’t trust her.

  He glanced up and caught his reflection in the mirror. She was right. He was a coward. The thought of revealing his secrets terrified him.

  Chapter 16

  Isobel was close to tears as she raced up the front steps of Lord Blackwood’s London residence. Emotionally gutted by Arend’s coolness after what she considered a special night, she’d at least had the satisfaction of learning that Victoria was in Deal, and was pleased by the prospect of finally catching her. But then to realize that Arend still didn’t trust her…

  That Portia’s pregnancy was in danger was the final straw. She wanted to crawl into her bed and cry her eyes out for a month.

  Lord Blackwood’s butler gave her entrance and escorted her directly to Portia’s suite. A wave of relief flowed over her when she heard the ladies laughing, and she even managed a smile as she walked into Portia’s bedchamber. If they were laughing, then Portia’s condition couldn’t be too serious.

  “I came as soon as I heard.” She leaned down and placed a kiss on Portia’s pale check. “Are you and the baby all right?”

  Portia patted her hand. “It seems I have been experiencing phantom birthing symptoms. The doctor has suggested I confine myself to bed for the last few months.”

  Isobel’s relief ebbed away. A quick glance across the bed to where Marisa sat, looking pale and strained, told her that Portia was underplaying the seriousness of the situation.

  Portia sighed and looked from one to the other. “Please, no long faces. Three months in bed with everyone hovering around me looking like thunder will drive me mad.”

  Isobel sank into the chair that had been placed on the other side of the bed. “Point taken.”

  Marisa settled back as if trying to appear relaxed. “How did the bank visit go?”

  Trust Marisa to turn the conversation to something other than Portia’s predicament. “It went well. The bank manager practically groveled at His Grace’s feet and was more than happy to help him in his quest to assist the understandably distracted Lady Isobel to find her poor kidnapped stepmother.”

  Now Marisa’s smile held no strain at all. “I knew it would work. Maitland can be very ducal when he wants to be.”

  “He is very scary in ducal mode,” Isobel agreed. “Anyway, we arrived just in time. Victoria has requested a large amount of money to be sent to Deal in Kent. Maitland convinced them to hold off until he has ascertained whether or not she is actually there.”

  Portia nodded. “So the men will go to Deal.”

  Isobel bristled. “Not only the men. I intend to go too. She killed my father, and I deserve to be there. Arend promised, but now—”

  She bit the rest back, not wishing to reveal the extent of her embarrassing situation with Arend. Portia would just say I told you so. Anyway, did Portia and Marisa trust her any more than Arend did?

  “Arend probably wants to keep you safe.”

  Wishing Marisa’s soft words were true didn’t make them so. “No.” Then anger got the better of her and the truth poured out. “He doesn’t trust me.”

  She saw the glance the ladies exchanged. It held definite elements of I told you so.

  Then Marisa sighed. “I did try to explain that he is a man who trusts no one.”

  “I know. But—” And to Isobel’s horror, the tears she’d been fighting since last night spilled over.

  “Isobel.” Marisa jumped to her feet and rushed around the bed to embrace her. “What has that rogue done now?”

  Isobel gulped back sobs and wiped frantically at her eyes. “It wasn’t him. It was me. I did something stupid. I fell under his spell.” And tears overwhelmed her again.

  “You have to be strong.” Portia reached out from the bed and grasped her hand. “If you want to go to Deal, then go. You have just as much right as any of us.”

  “Absolutely,” Marisa said. “I definitely want to be there, and I won’t let Maitland stop me. We can go together.”

  “Can we?” Isobel seized her courage and asked the question that burned in her. “Do you trust me enough?”

  “Oh, Isobel.” Marisa hugged her again. “Of course I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

  Isobel shook her head. “Not all of you do. I overheard you discussing me a few days ago. I didn’t mean to listen, but I thought you were my friends.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Portia exclaimed, a little flushed. “The men had us so upset, and Arend kept insisting that you had to have been in the carriage for a reason. Now we know why—Victoria was pushing you two together. But back then…” She trailed off, and then her mouth quirked up. “I just love how that backfired on her so spectacularly. You’ve formed a tight bond with Arend.” Her mouth twisted. “Well, I thought you had. Are you sure nothing else has happened?”

  Isobel couldn’t help it. She felt boiling heat flood into her face. The ladies took one look, and both drew in breath.

  “You’ve been intimate,” Marisa whispered.

  Isobel did not, could not, deny it.

  “So the marriage will proceed.” Portia said after a short silence.

  “I don’t know!” The wail held all of her frustration and pain. “How can it? How can I marry a man who does not trust me?”

  Marisa looked at her strangely. “Did he say so?”

  “Yes, he…” Isobel thought back to their last conversation. “Actually, no, he didn’t. He merely said I could not go to Deal with him.”

  Marisa clapped her hands. “I suspect it’s because he is worried about your safety. His feelings are now involved. He would not have slept with you, given your virginal status, if he did not mean to go through with the wedding.”

  Isobel shook her head vigorously. “It was not his choice. I seduced him and asked him to sleep with me. I hoped it might draw him in closer. I know you told me others had tried this approach and failed, but he’s so tortured, and I thought if I could get him to open up about his past, it might help him.”

  Portia and Marisa looked at each other and laughed.

  “Silly girl,” Portia chided, smiling. “Think about what you know of these men. You could have asked him all you wanted, but unless he was prepared to marry you he would never have bedded you.”

  She couldn’t let them believe that. No matter how embarrassing, she would have to tell them the rest. “But I told him I did not expect him to honor our engagement. In fact, I said that if he did not share his past with me, I would never marry him. As I only intended to marry for love, how could I love a man I did not know?”

  Their smiles disappeared.

  “And did he open up?” Marisa asked.

  She shrugged. “He told me about his childhood and about his sister and brother.”

  “Then,” Portia said, “I think that proves he wants to try to have something more with you.”

  “I don’t think so.” She ran a hand over her face, wiping away the traces of her tears. “The night ended in disaster. I asked one simple question about a scar, and it was as if I’d stabbed him with a dagger.”

  “A scar?” Both ladies spoke at once.

  Her face heated further. “Yes, just above his left buttock. It’s like a burn.” She sighed. “I touched it, and the question just slipped out. After that, he couldn’t get me out of his bed, and his house, fast enough.”

  For several moments the ticking clock on the mantelpiece was the only sound.

  Finally Isobel couldn’t bear it any longer. “He’s keeping me at a distance. I felt it this morning in the carriage to and from the bank.”

  Portia shook her head. “He very well might be, but it’s not because he doesn’t trust you. I’d say it’s because he’s scared. It’s more likely you’re getting too close.”

  “Absolutely,” Marisa said, agreeing with Portia. “Maitland, silly man, thought the way to keep his secrets was to stay away from me too. It would appear Arend is doing the same.”

  Isobel wanted to pull her hair out in fr
ustration. Could Arend be pushing her away because she was getting too close? Was his refusal to take her to Deal more about his feelings than about his lack of trust?

  “But I accused him of distrust and he did not deny it.”

  Portia sighed. “Men. They are so bad at expressing their feelings. I suppose it’s because they are expected to show no weakness. Unfortunately, they correlate feelings with weakness. What they do not understand is that sharing their feelings—opening their hearts—only makes them stronger and more desirable to us.”

  Portia’s soft words hung hauntingly in the room.

  “She’s right,” Marisa said. “Maitland was so terrified of his growing feelings for me, he refused to come to my bed. I thought he did not desire me, that there was something wrong with me. I had to fight so hard to get him to open up.”

  Isobel laughed, and hated the bitter edge she heard in the sound. “Fight? How am I supposed to fight a man like Arend? I don’t know if I can keep taking these little steps forward, only to get shoved away whenever I ask a question he won’t face.”

  “Then I suppose there is only one question you need to ask,” Marisa said calmly.

  “And that is?”

  “Do you love him enough to fight for him? To try to reach him, and help him conquer whatever hides inside?”

  The question drew Isobel up short. She loved Arend enough to sleep with him. Or was that merely desire? She hid her face in her hands, confusion tying her up in knots.

  “Isobel,” Portia said, “you have to stop this. Look at me.”

  Isobel lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be adding to your troubles.”

  “You’re not.” Portia spoke soberly as she caressed her stomach. “In fact, you could not share your situation with two women who would understand it better. Being confined to bed for the remainder of my pregnancy is frightening. And not only for me. Do you think Grayson is not petrified about the possibility of losing me, or this child? And I’m not his only concern. He has to look after his estates, this house, our finances, and his House of Lords responsibilities, and cope with a madwoman out to destroy his loved ones. And all the while I’m lying here, not sure if I can keep our child safe, and that knowledge eats him up inside.”

  Portia reached back to arrange the pillows propping her up, but Marisa got there first.

  Portia smiled her thanks, leaned back, and continued, still watching Isobel. “Everyone is looking to him. Grayson has to push his fears aside and be strong for those who need him—myself included. I need him to be strong. I want him to be strong, because I’m falling apart. Society expects men to be impervious to pain or emotion. Yet they are only human. I’ve seen Grayson on his knees beside my bed, begging God to keep me and the baby safe. He’s cried in my arms at the unfairness of it all. That is love. He feels safe in my arms, and I share with him what I cannot share with anyone else.”

  And that, Isobel realized, was what Arend was missing. Someone to hold him, comfort him, and tell him everything would be all right. Someone who loved him.

  Portia brushed away a tear, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Give Arend time to learn he doesn’t have to be strong on his own. Be patient. Don’t ask too much of him too quickly. I can assure you it’s worth the wait. To find that special love is better than all the riches in the world. Someone who can be there for you, and for whom you can be there in return.”

  By the time Portia finished, all three of them were in tears.

  Portia, Isobel decided, was absolutely right. If she loved Arend, she owed it to him, and to herself, to be patient with him. To support him, but let him open up at his pace.

  Heart bursting in her chest, she reached over and kissed Portia’s damp cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you share your feelings with me.”

  “We are friends.” Portia patted her hand where it rested on the bed beside her. “And Marisa and I are your special someones until Arend accepts that position.”

  And he would accept the position, just as she would be enough for a man like him.

  Isobel squared her shoulders. Silently she hugged the warm, new hope to herself and agreed out loud with Marisa that a strong cup of tea was needed.

  —

  While Arend waited for Maitland to return from the bank, he sent letters to Hadley, Christian, Sebastian, and their friend Philip urging them to meet at His Grace’s house as soon as possible. Portia’s uncertain condition meant that Grayson needed to stay in London to be with his wife.

  When he’d sent the messages, he refused Brunton’s offer of food, and paced the drawing room.

  The emotional turmoil in Isobel’s eyes as she’d fled to Portia’s bedside haunted him. But he’d done the right thing. This would keep both of them safe.

  He closed his eyes and tried to get Isobel’s image out of his head. Once they caught Victoria, he could take the time to sort out his feelings…if Isobel would give him another chance.

  He opened his eyes and stared out the window into the back garden. Autumn leaves covered the ground, turning the grass brown and hiding what was beneath. But when spring returned, the trees would be green once more. The grass would be clear for all to see.

  Could he shed his leaves and start again?

  He was so lost in that thought that Maitland’s entry into the room took him by surprise.

  “Brunton told me the ladies are with Portia.” Maitland held up an empty glass and pointed, brows lifted, to the brandy.

  Arend nodded.

  “Grayson must be beside himself with worry,” Maitland continued, pouring the drinks. “I don’t think we should expect him to help us in Deal.”

  “Agreed.” Arend crossed the room to take his glass from Maitland’s hand. “You’re certain that’s where she is, then?”

  They took seats by the fire.

  “There is no other lead,” Maitland said. “Deal is a strong one. She has been consolidating her inheritance. However, having now seen the documents, I’m positive Lord Northumberland’s will was forged. I suspect he left Victoria nothing, and she made sure that will never saw the light of day.”

  That possibility had never occurred to Arend. He felt like a fool. “So everything should have gone to Isobel.”

  “With the exception of a few minor bequests, yes,” Maitland said. “Speaking of Isobel, how do you propose to convince her not to come to Deal?”

  Convince her? He didn’t have a hope in hell of convincing her. “I shall simply tell her.”

  Maitland laughed. “Oh, you have a lot to learn. Women like Lady Isobel do not like to be told what to do.”

  “I’m telling her what not to do.” And she’d want to stay with Portia and Marisa. “You wouldn’t let Marisa run into that kind of danger.”

  Maitland stretched his legs out. “Would I not? Marisa will insist on going with us, and I won’t try to stop her. I believe she has a right.”

  If Maitland had punched him, Arend would have been less surprised. “Are you not worried about her safety?”

  “Of course.” A muscle in Maitland’s jaw tightened. “I worry about her safety every day. However, she is one of Victoria’s victims, and I cannot deny her the chance to be there when we catch the woman. Will you deny Isobel?”

  “It’s too dangerous.” But Maitland’s reasoning gave him a moment’s indecision. Victoria had changed his life. No one would stop him from being present when she was caught. By marrying Isobel’s father and then killing him, Victoria had also changed Isobel’s life. How could he deny Isobel the very right he refused to deny himself?

  “For her, or for you?” Maitland smiled. “I’m not a fool. The tension between you in the bank this morning was unmistakable. I recognized it—and its cause—from personal experience. When I first realized I was falling in love with Marisa, I was as terrified as a young boy facing his first boxing match. You are trying to find reasons to push her away because she makes you feel things you’d rather not.”

/>   Chapter 17

  Arend shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Maitland was right, of course.

  “Are you saying I should let Isobel come with us? I thought you were not sure of her.”

  “I’m not,” Maitland said. “That is why we should take her. Better to keep our eyes on her. Your eyes, to be precise—so be your usual irresistible self and win her back to your side.”

  Arend curled his fist tightly round the glass. “I don’t believe she’s an enemy.”

  “But you are not totally sure.” Maitland leaned forward in his chair. “A part of you cannot bring yourself to trust her fully.”

  When Arend remained silent, Maitland relaxed back into his seat. “Good, you’ll watch her properly. I don’t want Marisa getting hurt when she comes with us to Deal.”

  “You’re serious about taking Marisa?” He’d thought Maitland had been joking.

  Maitland gave a bark of laughter. “I haven’t a hope in hell of stopping her. She will go with or without me. And most likely drag Isobel along with her.”

  It was probably fortunate that their conversation was cut short at that point by the arrival of Philip, Sebastian, and Hadley.

  After greetings and a brief summary of events, the men were soon sprawled round the fire, drinks in hand, discussing tactics.

  Philip had already sent a note to a friend who owned a house in the center of Deal. “I think,” he said, “it would be an ideal location in which to base ourselves. We can have lookouts watching the main street at all times.”

  Sebastian nodded. “And as the house has no connection to any of us, it’s unlikely she’ll think of keeping a watch on it herself.”

  Arend wouldn’t put anything beyond Victoria. “Let’s not underestimate her. She seems to have been one step ahead of us the whole time.”

  “I’m worried,” Hadley said, “that she’ll leave Deal before we get there. Time is of the essence. When the money doesn’t turn up, she’ll grow suspicious as to why it’s taking so long.”

  “It was a large sum,” Maitland said. “It will require some organization and correspondence among the branches. We have a few days.”