"Don’t let him spoil things," she said firmly. "I shan’t."
"I am afraid I have, though. All these problems, so early on in our marriage, well, it must give you pause."
"Yet we will get through them, my love," she said with a warm smile. "It would have been a lot more confusing if you had not told me everything, though. Howell was banking on the fact that your reputation would scare me witless. That I would want to run away from a debaucher."
Randall sighed. "I had to be honest with you. You’re the most important person in my world."
"I know. I felt it last night as you sat with me at the opera, so warm and tender."
"Hot and rampant, more like." He laughed shakily.
Isolde giggled. "Me too. But I have to be sure that this incredible passion between us is real."
"It is. But as you say, the only way to prove it, Isolde, is to be together."
"He knows it too. He will try again," she warned.
"I know. We need to be ready for him."
She stood and pressed his raven head to her bosom tenderly. "Lord, being separated from you is worst thing I can think of."
"If we could just go upstairs I would-"
She stroked his hair softly, feeling an almost unbearable pressure building between her legs. She forced herself to concentrate on the problem at hand. "I think we have to go out, be seen. Like last night."
"But you hated everyone looking at you, quizzing you, whispering behind their fans as we sat in the box trying to face it all out."
"I loved being with you. End of story. Anyway, if we go out into the world, it will show we have nothing to hide."
He shook his head. "I have everything to hide."
She took his face in both her hands and gazed into his eyes. "No you don’t. You’ve paid for your crime all these hellish years you’ve been so alone."
"But I don’t want you to pay!" he protested.
"We won’t." She patted his shoulders, and stepped behind his chair. She hugged him around the neck and whispered against his cheek, "It will be fine."
"I miss you," he whispered, trying to pull her around for a kiss.
"I missed you last night. Good morning, love."
He got his kiss, with interest. "Good morning, darling wife."
"Come, let’s have some breakfast, then get bathed and dressed, and start our day."
Hopkins came in now with two servants carrying chafing dishes of scrambled egg, bacon, mushrooms, and a host of other treats.
"What do you want to do today, then, my dear?" he asked as he helped her to portions of each dish from the sideboard, and then began to make up a plate of his own.
"Call on Philip and Jasmine, go see my cousin at the clinic, tell them what happened with Howell sending the authorities, but that all is well. Philip will have got my note by now, so we need to see if they will receive us."
"Good. We shall go there then."
He set down the two plates, then toyed with the lapels of her dressing gown, his thumbs delicately brushing her bare breasts nestled between the velvet.
"Randall," she panted.
But he shook his head. "You want me, but you still aren’t sure of me. I need you to be sure. Now eat your breakfast." He kissed her, and sat down by her side, marvelling at how lovely she looked fresh out of bed.
She poured them both some hot, strong coffee, and discussed some shopping they both needed to do.
At the end of the pleasant meal, he led her up the stairs by the hand and they went to see his mother, who had been disturbed by the detectives, but had rolled over and gone back to sleep.
Seeing that she had all she needed, they tiptoed out quietly, and Randall left Isolde at the door to her room.
"I’ll see you soon, darling."
"Yes, soon. I can't wait to get started on our marriage in earnest."
He stooped to peck her on the brow, and hurried to his own room to get ready to spend the day with his incredible new wife.
Chapter Four
Isolde and Randall were ready by eleven, and departed in the coach for the Marshalls’ snug townhouse near Lincoln's Inns' Fields.
Philip was working with Alistair Grant the barrister as a clerk when he wasn’t at college studying, and loved his life at the Inns of Court. When they arrived, Jasmine had just gone out shopping with Pamela Deveril. But Philip was glad to see them, and seemed to accept readily enough their explanation of how they had come to be married.
"I’ve heard some ugly rumors, though, that Howell is not pleased with the way you slipped through the net." He gave her a small sardonic smile at this magnificent piece of understatement.
Isolde shrugged. "I don’t care. We are wed. I’m Randall’s wife in every way. Howell has given me nothing. so I owe him nothing. All he wanted was me as a mistress, not a wife. He broke it off, not me. He has no one to blame but himself if I’m happy with another. "
"Be careful, dear girl. He can be a formidable enemy when roused." His sherry brown eyes were deeply troubled.
"I know. Randall has told me. Everything."
"I see." His tone said it all. "Well then, if Randall has told you everything, and you’re happy to be his wife-"
"I am."
"Then we simply have to wish you the best."
She looked him straight in the eye. "I know Randall’s reputation, but he’s not a bad man. He’s not a rapist or a despoiler of virgins as Howell is. I know he’s made mistakes. I forgive him. Moreover, I trust him."
Randall smiled at his wife. "And I love her."
Philip nodded. "I could see that the other day. Strange though it seems, love at first sight does happen. Does work out. Just ask Jasmine. I hope the two of you will be happy."
Isolde stood to leave. "Will we see you again soon?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "We’re back home tomorrow down to Somerset. Jasmine will be sorry to have missed you."
"As am I. But we’ll be down to set up house at Brimley soon," she said.
His brows rose. "Really? I thought—" He looked at Randall, then away again swiftly.
Isolde nodded. "Really. Trust me. All will be well."
Randall looked at the exchange between the two and told himself he had no reason to be jealous. They were old friends, nothing more intimate than that, he was sure. Philip’s reputation as a rake had been even more prodigious than his own, and far more warranted. Yet it was said that he and Jasmine were a most devoted couple.
But his wife seemed completely unaffected by his masculine perfection, and shook hands with him in a reassuringly business-like manner before taking his own elbow to leave.
As the strode to the carriage, she saw his bleak expression, and hugged his arm to her.
He stiffened.
"It’s all right, Randall. You can hug me."
Their warm embrace soon became very heated indeed, until he lifted himself from the coach seat and sat across from her. "I need to keep out of temptation’s way. If you touch me like that again, I won’t be able to hold back."
"I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease."
"You're all the more alluring because you have no idea of the effect the slightest look from those wonderful eyes has upon me."
"And yours." She smiled.
"I’m glad. I want you to always be sure in your heart how important you are to me."
She kissed him warmly then. He let his open mouth slide over hers, her cheek, her ear, until she was sure she was on fire.
"My love, my beautiful Isolde."
"Randall-"
But the carriage was already at its destination, the ladies’ clinic at Bethnal Green, and her moment to lose herself in his love was lost. At least for the moment. She knew there would be time later.
It was just as well they had to stop. Every time he kissed her, looked at her, she was covered in confusion. She simply had to keep her wits about her. She was more and more drawn to him with every second they were together. She had had all to do during the carriage ride over not
to simply spread her legs and beg him to take her. So much for behaving sensibly and attending to her pressing affairs….
Whatever was wrong with her, it certainly wasn’t Randall driving her to excess. No, the only person who was betraying her at his point was herself. Her body was betraying her for longing for Randall so desperately, and her mind for holding her back from the only thing she wanted, needed to make her life complete. But she had to be sure….
A quick discussion with her very busy cousin Antony about what Chauncey was up to, and his reiteration that he was only too pleased she had wed Randall instead of Howell, were enough to put her mind at ease about her hasty marriage. Anyone who cared about her wished her well. Antony and Randall shook hands, and her husband then insisted they go visit Matthew Dane at his townhouse near Holland Park.
"I'm so glad there are no duels to be fought after all, though that Howell is a rum one, Randall. You don’t want to run afoul of him or his friends. A bunch of vicious gamblers, not to mention their er, excesses," Matthew said in a whisper, with a look at Isolde. "I hear he patronises some fairly seedy dens. I mean, I’m as game for a bit of novelty as the next man, but they’re beastly."
"Indeed."
A light dawned in his eyes. "Speaking of games, so how did your bet go with Tubby?"
Isolde blushed.
Randall grinned sheepishly. "Better than I could ever have hoped. But I’m well and truly leg-shackled now, and am officially taking myself out of circulation. You can have my share of the Incognitas from now on."
Matthew smiled, showing even white teeth. Isolde couldn't help but stare at the two handsome dark-haired men. Really, the Rakehells were a most remarkably good-looking group of friends…..
"Hah. But since you’ve been living like a monk these past several months, I surely hope you can wish me better than that!"
Randall nodded. "I do, Matt. I wish you the gift of a wife as wonderful as the one I’ve ended up with."
Matthew frowned and shook his head. "No such thing. She is a little beauty, no denying it, and I’ve heard all about you and your work from Philip and Antony. You put me in mind of—" He shook his head again. "No, never mind. So do tell me how you met and married so quickly. I would have thought with things as they stood after your father’s death, Randall—"
"Er, yes, thank you, Matthew."
"Sorry. Just a bit tipsy, don’t you know. Having the most Godawful time with my current mistress. A regular virago. Damn near shredded me last night. Actually, damn near futtered me right in front of my family at my aunt’s ball."
"Then you should never have invited her, and should try to get rid of her. The more you consort with women like her, the less likely you are to ever get a decent woman for yourself."
"My tastes still run to the indecent, don’t you know," he said with a grin.
Randall rolled his eyes. "All the same, you know what I mean. And I am sure your aunt, the redoubtable Lady Pemberton, would agree."
"She would indeed."
"How is she, by the way?"
"Avidly trying to reform me, as usual, and matchmaking better than any biddy of the Ton ."
Isolde and Randall watched his handsome sunny expression suddenly become as bleak as a winter’s day.
"She means well. Wants to see you happy," Isolde ventured to say.
He heaved a huge sigh. "Yes, I know. It's just not that simple." He stuck out his hand to Randall to offer him congratulations, then gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Blessings, you two."
"But seriously, Matthew, do take care."
"Thanks for the advice. Might just take you up on it. I hear from the rest of the Rakehells that Somerset is a lovely corner of the world. You still have that estate down there, don’t you?"
"Er, yes."
"Ever think about selling it?"
He shook his head. "No, not at all. It was Mother’s you see."
Matthew waved the topic away airily. "Ah. Well, just a thought."
"Turning country gent?"
His mouth drew downwards as though he had tasted something vile."Town ain’t what it used to be, not with my current ladybird hanging on my sleeve. Might just try to settle in a good district with pleasant company, not too far from Bath, which has just about all the entertainments of the capital, with less inconvenience."
"Brimley is the place then. Feel free to use the house when you’re down. Any time."
"Thank you. I might just do that."
"Thank you for being my second." He offered his hand once more.
"Don’t mention it. It’s what friends are for. Dashed waste letting someone as talented as you get killed, though."
Randall grinned. "Thanks, I think."
Isolde suppressed a shudder.
"Don’t mention it. Well now, off you go. Don’t waste a minute of your honeymoon speaking to a crusty old bachelor like me!"
His words were jovial as he waved them off, but she could see the bleakness return to Matthew’s expression, and wished with all her heart that he could be happy too.
He was evidently pining for someone. Certainly not his mistress. But someone special….
The vision wouldn’t come to her, but she offered up a prayer for Matthew and his lady love. Then her husband was helping her in the carriage and she melted into his arms for a soul-stirring kiss, more grateful than she could say that she had met the man she was destined to love before her own life had been ruined by Howell.
Chapter Five
The rest of the day spent with Randall's mother and her own family made Isolde more certain on a number of points. Her new husband really was the most remarkably intelligent man, and a superb host to the Clarences, who were anxious to get to know him better, and most grateful for all his help with their daughter.
"I had no idea that Howell was such a rotter," Mr. Clarence said with a shake of his head. "I know we are not very worldly people, but I flattered myself I knew what was best for my daughter. It seems he’s left a trail of by-blows from Somerset to Surrey. And all over London. Without so much as a penny to support them, and nothing left behind except doses of the clap."
Everyone blushed beetroot red, but Randall said calmly, "I make no disguise of the fact that I was once a man of the world, but I shall be the best husband to Isolde. You shall have no call to be ashamed of our association with your family. So long as you also understand that whilst the eight children in my charge are none of mine, I have taken it upon myself to oversee their upbringing, and will not brook any interference on that score."
He shook his head and said gruffly, "No, not at all. Wouldn’t dream of it. But nor do I think it wise for Isolde’s siblings to come stay with you if they are ever in the same house."
Isolde bristled. "As soon as the Dowager Lady Hazelmere is well, we shall be in the same house. I will be sorry to not see you in Somerset, sir, but if that is your attitude, then I’m afraid it cannot be helped."
Mr. Clarence gaped like a fish out of water. When he found his tongue, he asserted, "I’m sorry too, dear. You’re young, but you must realise that to flout convention in such a way is to court disaster."
She squared her shoulders. "I’m not interested in convention if it does nothing but damage the lives of children who have done nothing wrong. I don’t believe in punishing them for the sins of their parents.
"As for my own sisters and brother, they may decide for themselves if they feel polluted by these poor orphans. The same for you, Mother. We shall of course like to come to Surrey to see you all, but please let us know now if we are not to be well received, so we shall save ourselves the journey."
"We shall always be glad to see you here in London, or in Surrey," Mr. Clarence blustered. "But not in Somerset, or Berkshire, I believe it is, if that is how you plan to comprise your household."
His mousy little wife looked sympathetically at Isolde, and opened her mouth to speak.
But her husband pulled her up out of her chair by one arm, and bustled her and his y
oungest daughter Nerissa from the room, with a bellowed, "Come Fanny, it's past your bed time," over his shoulder, which the poor girl obeyed despite her new status as Stephen’s wife.
Stephen looked around the room and shrugged. "Sorry. He’s a bit of an old fossil. He’ll come around." He kissed his mother and sister, and ran from the room, eager to be with his new bride.
Rebecca and Susan were too young to understand what they had all be rowing about, but Rebecca piped up with her own opinion nonetheless. "I’ll come see you anywhere, Isolde. Who cares what the old windbag says."
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