Isabella's Secret Summer

by Tabetha Waite

  He chuckled and took hold of the reins, leading the horse back to Walmer as Isabella walked by his side in a companionable silence.

  Once they returned to the castle and Ridge had stabled the horse, he turned to Isabella. He reached out a hand to cup the side of her face, and said softly, “Go to your rooms and get some sleep. I’ll take care of him.” He gestured to the valet who he’d dumped in an unconscious heap on the ground.

  She swallowed visibly. “Are you sure you don’t want to… join me later?”

  His cock gave an instant response, but Ridge shook his head. “While the prospect certainly has its merits, I’m afraid that I will have to postpone such an enticing interlude. I will need to see what I can learn from our unwilling captive, and the… coercion make take a while.”

  She must have understood his meaning, for she said, “Of course. Goodnight, Mr. Claymoore.”

  He bent down to give her a light kiss on the lips. “Goodnight, Lady Isabella,” he whispered, and watched her depart. He waited until she was out of view then he took his prisoner down into the bowels of the castle for a thorough interrogation.

  ***

  Isabella awoke a bit later than usual the next morning. The excitement at Sandown must have been more tiring than she imagined — or else it was Ridge and his sensual ministrations that had kept her in dreamland. Her cheeks heated at the memory, her desire to see him again more urgent than she wanted to admit. At least she had the perfect excuse for seeking him out at the earliest opportunity. She wondered how Ridge had fared with his prisoner, and she yearned to discover if he’d learned anything of import.

  She was just putting the finishing touches on her hair when Claudia walked in.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Isabella asked.

  Claudia curtsied. “Not to worry, my lady. I’m feeling much improved after yesterday. I’m more than capable of resuming my duties.”

  Isabella eyed her critically, but after a moment, she nodded her head. “Very well.” She looked back at the mirror and sighed. “I daresay I’ve been having trouble taming this one curl.”

  Claudia moved forward, her satisfied smile reflected in the glass as she took up the pins and began to fashion Isabella’s hair. “I daresay there’s been quite a bit of excitement going on this morning.”

  Isabella’s heart leaped. Had something happened with Simon? “What is it?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing bad, my lady.” The maid lowered her voice, as if what she was about to impart was a highly regarded secret. “It’s just that the Prime Minister is here!”

  This made Isabella’s eyebrows rise. “What’s he doing here?” She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. After all, she was a guest at the castle where he was the Lord Warden. If anyone had a right to be here, it was Robert Jenkinson, the Earl of Liverpool.

  “Mr. Claymoore wrote to him in London and explained what happened the day you went to Kingsdown,” Claudia explained. “He arrived early this morning with a man named Montgomery.” She shuddered. “He would be dreadfully handsome, if it wasn’t for the chilling, direct stare in those icy blue eyes.”

  All Isabella could think of was that her time with Ridge had come to an abrupt end. “Where are they now?” she asked quietly.

  “They’ve been in Liverpool’s salon with Mr. Claymoore since their arrival this morning. However, the earl personally invited you to supper this evening. Shall I press the mauve gown?”

  Since Isabella was going to be entertaining one of the most important members of Parliament, she wanted something extra special. “Actually, I have something else in mind.” She opened her dressing table and removed the gold ribbon that Ridge had purchased for her. She held it out to Claudia. “Would it be possible to add that to one of my gowns by this evening?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Her maid eyed it critically. “And I know just the dress that will complement this perfectly.”

  “I trust your judgment, whatever it might be.” Isabella rose to her feet. “I’ll just head down to the kitchens to see if Mrs. Hopper might need—”

  But her maid was already shaking her head. “Oh no, my lady. Ethel said that you weren’t to come downstairs while the master was in residence. She said that it wouldn’t be proper.”

  “I see.” Isabella sighed, but her presence in the kitchens, rubbing elbows with the hired help would be inappropriate in London, and highly frowned upon.

  As a viscountess, and the daughter of a marquess, it was apparent that social class distancing was adhered to, even in a remote setting on the coast of Kent. While Mr. and Mrs. Hopper might have allowed her close association before, the line of distinction was now drawn. Unfortunately, Isabella had grown more accustomed to a common life in the past few days than she’d ever had as a lady of society.

  But she couldn’t ignore who she was, even though she might wish with every beat of her heart that she could be someone else.

  ***

  “What an exciting adventure you’ve had, Claymoore.” Ridge shifted his gaze to Logan, who wore his generally, smug expression. “I’m almost jealous.”

  Ridge snorted as Logan took a sip of his brandy. While many would think it was a bit early in the day for spirits, not even noon, the man had always indulged in his own pursuits.

  Enclosed in Liverpool’s salon, the three of them had taken position about the room. “Really, Montgomery,” Lord Liverpool chided gently. “We are here to discuss matters of state, not to torment our fellow agents of the Crown. Try to remember that we are supposed to be working together.”

  “Very well.” Logan gave a long-suffering sigh. “I will try to be on my best behavior.”

  “Now,” the earl began, “Let’s discuss this prisoner you have stored in my castle at the moment. While the personal attacks that you included in your letter to Montgomery, as well as the fire have all been rather distressing, pray tell me you have learned something useful through all of this.”

  “I have.” Ridge nodded. He recalled the moment he’d waved his bottle of vinaigrette under his captive’s nose. The moment the man had woken up, he was horrified at finding himself in the dungeon of the Lord Warden. Regrettably, Ridge hadn’t even had to throw one punch before his tongue had loosened. “After learning that he could be hanged for treason alongside his master, Wistenberry’s former valet was rather forthcoming with information.”

  “Indeed.” Liverpool folded his hands over his midsection. “Do tell.”

  Ridge was more than happy to comply. “John explained that Wistenberry had captured an English spy, one who’d helped to turn the tide of the war, convincing several countries to reenter the battle against Napoleon. In return for the spy, Wistenberry bartered with the French military for safe passage through the Continent, along with a rather healthy sum of payment upon delivery.”

  He withdrew the packet from inside his jacket and tossed it down on a table in the middle of the room. “There’s about twenty thousand pounds in there, not including the dowry that I removed which should be returned to Lady Isabella. If nothing else, it should take the sting out of being a widow and the scandal she will have to contend with when this is all over.”

  Liverpool nodded. “Very commendable of you, Claymoore.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Although Ridge would have accepted nothing less than his superior’s full cooperation. After everything Isabella had gone through, the return of her dowry would help her to carve out a new life for herself — one that didn’t include heartache or misery. Or him.

  “Where is the English spy now?” Montgomery asked.

  Ridge swallowed the regret he felt and withdrew a letter he’d procured from his prisoner. He handed it to Logan. “He’s being held in Gravelines at the Smuggler’s City. His name is Pierce Rutherford.”

  “A cross written letter with invisible ink. How ingenious,” Montgomery murmured, and then glared at Ridge. “Rather unceremonious of you to decode it without me.”

  Ridge ignored him, turning his focus on the earl ins
tead. “Rutherford was one of our best.” Liverpool’s mouth turned down grimly. “Curdiff recruited him for the Crown a number of years ago. He was as fearless as the Duke of Chiltern. Unfortunately, he’d gone quiet for the past several weeks, once Lady Worthington’s smuggling operation was brought to a halt, so we feared the worst.” He sighed heavily. “Now that the EIC has made an agreement with the Crown, at least that’s one less thing we have to contend with. All we have to do now is ensure that Rutherford is brought back to English shores, preferably alive.”

  “I’d be honored to be of service,” Ridge said. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “In the event something like this should happen, I have a purse that we are willing to trade to secure our agent’s release, although we should like to have both items returned.” He smiled meaningfully. “And while I’m relieved to have such dedicated loyalty in you, Claymoore, rest assured I wouldn’t feel comfortable throwing you into enemy territory alone.” He nodded toward Logan. “I’m sending Montgomery along as well.”

  The agent turned to him with a wide grin. “Lucky you.”

  It was all Ridge could do not to groan. The man could be insufferable, but there was honestly no one else that he would trust with his life. Unless it was Lady Isabella, but he intended to see that she was far away from this particular fight. “I have but one request.”

  Liverpool lifted a brow. “And that is?”

  “To ensure that Lady Isabella returns to her family in London.”

  “Naturally,” the earl agreed, nodding. “I shall see to it myself. Not only is she my goddaughter, but her father, Lord Ashfield, is also a close personal friend of mine. He would expect nothing less than her secure return. I will also see that the prisoner is handed over to the local magistrate this afternoon and transported back to London to await trial and that he is also granted a bit of clemency for his cooperation. As for both of you gentlemen, the cutter will be ready to take you across the channel at midnight. A skiff will be waiting for you on the shore.” He lifted a brow. “I hope that you have both brushed up on your French accents.”

  “Oui, Monsieur,” Logan returned flawlessly. “Je suis prét pour le travail á faire/á accomplir.”

  “I am also prepared for the task at hand,” Ridge noted dryly. “And yet, as usual, I don’t have to brag about my abilities while you like nothing better than to exploit your own worth.”

  “What can I say?” Logan shrugged, his ice-blue eyes dancing with mirth. “I’m a proud man with many talents.”

  Ridge scoffed but refused to deign to lower himself with a reply. Then again, most of his focus was on Isabella — and the fact he would soon be leaving her.

  Perhaps for good.

  ***

  Isabella spent most of the day in deep contemplation, walking among the bastions of the castle and among the fragrant gardens. She sat for a time and stared at the charred remains of the outbuilding, thinking how differently it all might have gone, should she not have raised the alarm in time and Ridge hadn’t acted as calmly as he had. Of course, this also made her think of her own circumstances, and where she might be now if Simon had been present last evening. No doubt she’d be on a ship bound for France at this very moment. She shuddered just imagining it, and yet, she had come close to that very thing.

  Not until the sun started to sink into dusk, did she head back to her chambers to begin preparing for supper.

  Claudia drew a bath for her, but it wasn’t until Isabella was in her undergarments that her maid held up the dress she’d adorned with the gold ribbon. It was one of her favorites, a deep blue satin, but with the trim, it became even more special.

  After Claudia had put the finishing touches on Isabella’s elegant coiffure, she ascended the stairs with a cool, outward composure. But then, this was a performance she had enacted many times as the poised, spinster daughter of the Marquess of Ashfield. She’d grown up among the ton, so the social niceties came to her almost naturally.

  The moment she appeared in the doorway of the salon, she saw Robert Jenkinson, the Earl of Liverpool. She recalled him from various London gatherings, even if they hadn’t spoken often, but he was just as she remembered with light hair that was starting to thin quite notably, and warm brown eyes. He was sipping a brandy, in true gentleman fashion, attired in his evening finery and giving credence to the fact he visited only the finest tailors in London.

  There were two other men in the room, but Isabella didn’t have time to lock eyes with Ridge before her host noticed her presence and rose to his feet with a friendly greeting. “Ah, there you are Lady Wistenberry.” He bowed over her hand while she forced herself not to cringe at his use of her title. “Pray, forgive my inattentiveness until now.”

  She forced a smile. “Lord Liverpool. Of course, I understand the reason for your delay. How lovely it is to see you again. I trust you are in good health?”

  “Indeed, I am,” he replied courteously. “Although I fear my dear wife, Louisa, couldn’t make the journey due to her current illness. She is easily prone to headaches, and often seeks the advice of our personal physician.” His expression held a touch of sadness, but he recovered, recalling the task at hand. “Then again, I suppose we are here for political purposes, those involving your husband and his questionable loyalties to the Crown. It’s not necessarily something I should wish for Louisa to partake of at any cost.”

  Isabella could almost feel Ridge’s intent stare on her and she yearned to acknowledge him, but she forced her attention to remain on the earl. “I daresay I’ve been quite distraught over the matter,” she murmured, assuming that was the appropriate response of a timid female.

  “Quite understandable,” Liverpool returned firmly. “Treason is a serious offense, punishable by death.”

  She pictured Ridge hanging from a noose and stiffened, unable to prevent a tiny sound of alarm from rising in her throat.

  The earl laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and added, “Not to worry, my lady. I will personally stand beside you to weather the scandal. As you know, I have very persuasive friends in London, and you are my goddaughter.”

  It was no secret that Liverpool was a close confidante to the Prince Regent, but while he had misinterpreted her upset, she allowed him to think that it was society’s approval that unnerved her, when the opposite couldn’t be more true. “Thank you,” she murmured. “That is most kind.”

  With that, he stepped back and held out an arm. “But I’ve been remiss in introducing another colleague of the Home Office. Lady Wistenberry, may I present Logan Montgomery?”

  Isabella couldn’t help but stare as the agent rose to his feet. She’d have to be blind not to be affected by his presence. In the face of his stark attire, that intimidating height, coal black hair, and those ice-blue eyes, he was positively handsome to look at.

  With a crooked grin and a certain air of charisma, he bowed deeply and said, “An honor, my lady.”

  She inclined her head. “Mr. Montgomery.”

  “I trust Ridge hasn’t given you too much trouble. If so, I would be happy to stand in for him.”

  Isabella thought she heard a slight curse come from Ridge, so she found the opportunity she’d been waiting for to shift her gaze to look at him.

  Their eyes met and held.

  He’s magnificent… For the first time since they’d met, he was dressed in something other than a simple cambric shirt and trousers. Tonight he’d dressed accordingly with a full waistcoat, cravat, and jacket. While the brown and gold scheme might not have complimented every man, with Ridge’s dark hair and intense brown eyes, he was rather appealing. And while she could appreciate a well-dressed man as much as any woman, she actually preferred him in more simple attire, for it suited his personality.

  Either that — or nothing at all.

  “I appreciate your offer, but there’s no need for that, Mr. Montgomery.” Isabella interceded before Ridge had a chance to reply. “Mr. Claymoore has been a perfect gentleman.”

>   She wasn’t sure Logan believed her, but as the earl spoke, she turned her attention back to him. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. But enough talk for now.” Liverpool nodded to Logan. “I’m rather famished. Shall we head into the dining room?”

  He offered his arm to Isabella, which she accepted, although the simple gesture went far to remind her of the social differences between her and Ridge.

  And how much she already missed being alone with him.

  ***

  Dinner was a torturous affair — at least, it was for Ridge. He noticed that Isabella had found a way to fashion the ribbon he’d bought her, a glittering reminder of their time together, but if he had to suffer one more flirtatious comment from Montgomery, he was going to call him out. He’d shot him more than one warning glare; hoping the bastard might get the message that the lady was spoken for, but other than a mocking wink in his direction, that was all the reaction Ridge had received.

  So when Liverpool turned the conversation to Isabella’s family, he was glad for the distraction — until he saw the tight lines of strain starting to appear on her face.

  “I’m sure you’re eager to hear news of your family,” the earl noted. “Have you heard that the Earl of Stoneville and his wife are expecting their first child this fall?”

  “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” Isabella took a sip of her wine. “But I’m very happy for my brother and I daresay I can’t wait to dote upon my new niece or nephew.”

  “The countess isn’t yet in her confinement, so I have had the pleasure of conversing with them at several ton events,” Liverpool went on to say. “Of course, they were highly sympathetic about the unfortunate predicament you now find yourself in. Jeffrey expressly wished me to tell you that since you have restored the family’s good name with your marriage, they will stand beside you during the viscount’s trial.”

  “That’s very… thoughtful of him.”

  Ridge caught the hitch in her voice and his fists clenched under the table. It sounded like her brother was a pompous ass.