“Can I count on your support?”
“You’ll need an invitation to the game.”
“For my cousin,” Nicholas clarified.
“Clever.” Richard smiled. “Is he as good as I’ve heard?”
“Better than that.”
With his newly formed comradeship, Nicholas went in search of Isabella. It was time he considered not sailing. If Lord Richard was correct in his assessment, Lord Emsley was a violent man, and leaving Isabella only in the protection of servants would not do, least not until her place in society was again secure.
When he rounded the wide trunk of the oak tree, he saw the back of Isabella’s pinned curls as she sat on the garden bench. He was about to interrupt when Lord Daniel’s figure came into view on the opposite side of the seat.
Then he heard his name, and Nicholas paused. Isabella still insisted on referring to him by his formal title, Captain Ferguson, and he realized it was her way of putting distance between them.
“I’m afraid arranging my own marriage has taken away the spontaneous joy that accompanies the occasion,” Isabella was saying.
“A leaping shame,” Daniel said.
“I have no appetite for the business end of nuptials, and for a brief moment, I wished my father was in the room with Mr. Ferguson.”
“Ah, the price of independence. I wish you were spared the grim details of it.”
“Mr. Ferguson is a fair man. I believe he will fulfill his commitments.”
Daniel flinched. “Is there no affection, then?”
Nicholas stilled. Isabella did not immediately answer, then she said, “Some, perhaps, though I’m not certain. In truth, his trip will allow me the time to find my place.”
Nicholas turned towards the house. Any hope of remaining in London was dashed by Isabella’s words. Looking around the garden towards the small group and Lord Daniel, he realized he would not be leaving Isabella without protection. She did not need him.
Nineteen
“Jenkins delivered the last of the supplies yesterday.” Harold straightened his neck cloth.
Nicholas nodded.
“Have you changed your mind?”
“Nay.”
Ignoring his cousin’s grumbled curse, Nicholas scribbled the last of his instructions to Tom. It was best for the household that he left. Isabella had yet to show any true affection towards him.
“Jesu, mon.” Harold swiped stiff fingers through his shoulder-length hair. “No mon would leave his wee bonnie bride days after marrying. Do ye forget, Emsley seeks an opportunity to lurk at her skirts, looking for ways to regain her trust.”
Nicholas shook his head, reminding himself of the pact between Isabella and himself, the reasons for their marriage. “It’s a marriage of convenience, nothing more. On that Isabella and I agree. She has said so repeatedly. I don’t blame her. I’m harsh at times.”
Harold snorted. “Try barbaric.”
“Isabella…” Nicholas waved his hand, encompassing his surroundings. “Wants her good name back, and a bit of comfort, nay more.”
“Ye spent the last few days hunting those that harmed her only to watch her slip through your fingers?” Harold’s eyes narrowed.
Setting his note aside, Nicholas looked at Harold.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“She’s made it clear; she means to continue life as she pleases.”
“She’s to be your wife, Nicholas.”
“Don’t ye think I know that?”
“Ye cannot keep her at arm’s length forever.” Harold locked gazes with him. “You’ll have to trust her.”
Nicholas sighed. “Trust me, the lass doesn’t want me, Harold.”
There was a silence as they stared at each other. “You don’t believe this Daniel fellow is her lover, do you?” Harold questioned.
“No.” Nicholas sighed, then rubbed his eyes. “But she insists on resuming her life, whatever that means, and she fancies Lord Daniel.”
“And Lord Emsley? Do you believe the rumors?”
“That they were romantically involved?” Nicholas thought of the few intimate moments he had shared with Isabella. “The lass disnae act virginal.”
“Would it matter if the gossip holds truth?”
“No.” Nicholas said with conviction. “Yet, she hasnae confided in me.”
Harold paused, then swallowed the remains of his drink. “Even if Isabella acted out of wedlock, your mother would not approve of your treatment of the lass. To set sail—”
Nicholas laughed. “In the end, Mother did not believe in love. Ye know that as well as I.”
Harold shook his head. “That’s not all true and you know it. She loved us, though I was naught but an extra mouth. It was love that made her take me in when Ma died, and love that kept her from the streets.”
Nicholas’s fingers balled into a fist before he spread them wide. “Curse ye, Harold, for dredging old memories. And look what trusting in love got her. A son and nephew with nay more than names as stamps of our breeding. Highlands that don’t want us, the sea that waves her bonnie arms as she is ready to fold us under, and London… London means to mark us as upstarts.”
Thumps on the door halted their argument. “Pardon, sir, the priest has arrived.” Winston stood at the library’s entrance.
“Thank you.” Harold cleared his throat.
“What else has Isabella said regarding our nuptials?” Nicholas asked, certain this new campaign to keep him on land was Virginia’s doing.
“Said?” Harold startled. “Any fool could see the lady wants more than she bargained for. Now…” Harold got to his feet. They walked out of the library and towards the other guest. “The priest waits to join what no man may sunder.”
Nicholas tugged at the neck cloth, each woven thread reminding him of a noose.
“Ye can still change your mind.” Harold stood beside him at the foot of the stairs.
“Nay,” Nicholas whispered when Cassie skipped to his side. His breath caught when he saw that her dress was not ripped or soiled at the knees. “Cassie, you are a vision.”
“Thanks, Papa.” She smiled, making a show of straightening her shoulders.
“Mr. Ferguson,” The priest said as he approached them. “Congratulations.”
Nicholas shook the man’s hand. The priest was lean and tall. His flesh pulled over the sharp angles of his face. “Thank you for blessing our union on short notice.”
“I presume you acquired a special license?”
Nicholas patted his breast pocket.
“Now that you’re a man of family, and responsible for their spiritual well being, I hope to see you in church.”
Harold coughed.
“What of you, Mr. Duncan?” The priest faced Harold. “The church welcomes everyone.”
Nicholas smiled, liking the man’s bluntness.
The priest extended that bony hand to Cassie. “And you little lady, can I count on your support?”
Cassie’s brows wrinkled as she looked up at her father. Nicholas nodded. “Can I bring my ship?” she asked the priest.
The man’s brows drew together. “Depends. Can it withstand a good sermon?”
Cassie giggled, then gripped the priest’s fingers, steering him towards the library. “It’s not a real ship, I’ll show you.”
Family. The priest’s words rang true as Nicholas looked around the small group. Isabella deserved her father’s presence, the white dress, a church filled with family and friends—he didn’t have too many of those. She deserved roses and flowers, courting, balls and dancing, all things he didn’t have time to lavish on her.
Running a wary hand through tussled hair, Nicholas vowed to give her everything she desired, whatever comforts she sought, to make up for what had been lacking in their courting. No one would ever desert her again. He swallowed. Wasn’t that precisely what he was doing by setting sail? No, he shook his head. She wanted him gone. Leaving would make her happy. And…maybe in time, with enough dist
ance, Isabella would grow to tolerate, even care for him. The thought of merely tolerating one’s wife, his wife, left a bitter taste.
He risked a glance towards the top of the steps. Unease weighed. One booted leg landed on the first stair, and he felt Harold’s grip on his arm.
“It’s not good fortune to see the bride, cousin.”
A relieved sigh flooded his chest when Virginia rounded the top of the stairs.
“Nicholas!” Dress clutched in both fists, Virginia hurried down towards them. Harold took her elbow as she drew near, steadying her. “She’s… Isabella, she’s not in her rooms.”
When Nicholas pushed past her, heading for the second floor, Virginia touched his arm. “Maybe she went for a walk, Nicholas, to accept her new situation. She wouldn’t abandon you.”
The last was a plea for understanding. He hoped Virginia was correct. Nicholas took the stairs two at a time. He checked each room, closets, under every bed until he found himself searching the gardens.
Isabella was gone. Cold fingers of dread touched his nape. Fled. Her word meant nothing. His breath came in labored pants, pushing against his rib cage. His father, an aristocrat, had done the same, and he had vowed he would never be that vulnerable again.
Had she any intention of fulfilling their arrangement? “Ready the coach,” he said between clenched teeth when Chambers caught up to his hurried pace. Nicholas looked at his property, land he had no time to enjoy.
“Sir.” Nicholas turned to see the man hadn’t moved, not a coach in sight. “Your… M’lady took da coach.”
“Pashkin?” he asked about her man servant. The man nodded, taking a step back. At least the fool woman hadn’t driven the coach herself. “Saddle my horse!”
Twenty
Lady Isabella’s fingers twisted in her lap. Under long lashes, she glanced at her companion. They had been riding for hours in his open-top carriage, and she was grateful for the coolness of the day as they travelled along the countryside. So far, Daniel had left her to her thoughts. She was grateful for the silence. Biting her lip, she shook her head as another thought of Nicholas sent a whisper of awareness along her back. He’d be furious when he discovered her absence. And little Cassie, she imagined the child’s hurt, and the loss of the trust they’d carefully built. Cassie would understand, Isabella thought as she wiped a tear. She’d see it as another adventure. “Do you presume—”
“He’ll come,” Daniel said.
Isabella nodded. She had suspected as much. Nicholas was not the type of man to be easily set aside.
“Has he treated you unkindly, Isabella?” Daniel asked, his ruthless smile replaced with a look of caution.
“No,” she answered quickly. The opposite was true. “He has shown me more tolerance than my own father.”
“Then why have Pashkin deliver you to my care, if not to run away with me?” Daniel winked, and she was once again enveloped in light-hearted friendship.
“I’m fleeing. You’re being a gentleman and helping me, but we are not running together,” she said. “Besides, I trust you.”
“I can protect you.”
“Pray tell, were you also knighted?” she said, ignoring the true meaning of his words.
“No, but I’m a magnificent fencer.”
Twisting in her seat, she looked around the carriage floor. Finding naught but her bag, she raised a brow. “Will you defend my honor with the swords you’ve forgotten on your mantel?”
He chuckled. “Why the cat and mouse?”
Only he would think she played a game to be chased. Isabella joined in his good humor. “I thought you’d enjoy a distraction.”
In truth, she was terrified of committing her heart to a man who had no need for love. Their bargain was for Cassie—no word of tenderness or commitment promised. Not that she expected love from Nicholas. She, however, cared, and it frightened her.
He was not the man the world believed him to be. Nicholas was kind and considerate. He was raising Cassie as his own. That was the man she had come to care for, but the two could not be separated, because he was also a man deeply scarred by a difficult past.
“Distraction is it.” Daniel entwined their fingers and squeezed lightly before kissing the back of her gloved hand. “For my sake, let’s hope he’s not as good a shot as he is a horseman.” And before she had the chance to decipher his meaning, Daniel kissed the side of her mouth. His lips against her skin were feather light and lasting long enough to be unmistakable by the approaching rider. It wasn’t the kiss that sent her heart racing, but the thought of Nicholas’s reaction to Daniel’s little stunt.
Isabella heard the steady gallop of a horse and peered over her shoulder. “Do you think—”
“I believe your hopes of running away with me are dashed, my lady.”
Isabella gasped. “You knew.” She squinted, but the rider was unrecognizable from such a distance.
“I might have given my butler our general way of travel.” Daniel twisted in his seat. “You have every right to toss me under the wheel. But we both know you love the cad and you admitted he has not harmed you.”
“And if he had?”
“We would have taken an alternate route.”
She raised a skeptical brow at his confident answer.
“Besides, I had him looked into.”
“Dear heavens.”
“You don’t think I would abandon you, do you?” His tone was alert, as if everything depended on her answer. His eyes held hers and Isabella realized he, too, showed the world a cover of himself.
Isabella cradled his cheek. “No Daniel. You are the dearest friend one could hope for.” And she silently promised to be one in turn.
When his devilish grin returned, she matched it with a genuine smile of her own. “Well?”
Daniel chuckled. “He has sound investment and no bastards, except little Cassie,” he said thoughtfully. “And, by all accounts, he cares deeply for the child.”
Isabella had no intention of correcting Daniel in his assumption of Cassie; it was not her secret to share.
“Most fascinating is his numerous connections. I do believe he can return you to the grand monde. And with the duchess, Lady Kenningsly’s fondness and my support—though I am mere Viscount of Plainfield—you shall be back in monde de la mode in no time.”
Squeezing his shoulder playfully, Isabella said, “I’m sure you’ll inherit the dukedom and all its boring aristocratic duties soon enough.”
Daniel flinched. “Good heavens, I hope not! So far, Father has given me the reins, and I’m happy in my current role. Besides, I’m fond of the old goat.”
She believed him, and by the sounds of it, he truly shared a connection with his father. “Thank you, Daniel, for…indulging my foolishness.”
Daniel loosened his grip on the reins. The sound of hooves pounding against the dry dirt road grew closer. Gently, he brought the carriage to a slow trot.
Isabella’s chest tightened, her heart hammering. Suddenly, running away seemed silly. Though tangled in conflicting emotions, she needed to know Nicholas cared—wanted and desired her.
“Promise you’ll confide in me if the match is not a happy one.”
The rider was upon them now, and she dared not look at Daniel or acknowledge his words. Her breath hitched. A large, gloved hand grabbed the reins of their horses from Daniel’s fist, slowing them to a halt at the side of the road. He’d found them and he was not happy.
Nicholas’s jaw was hard ridges. Eyes cold, gray, stormy.
Her chin tilted upwards even as she fidgeted against the seat when the horses snorted, nostrils flaring.
“Isabella?” Daniel asked when he climbed down from the carriage. His earlier playfulness was replaced with concern as he looked from Nicholas to Isabella, and she knew he wished to say more. Block her from Nicholas’s view or issue a warning, perhaps. She dreaded such a confrontation, and seeing Nicholas’s dark scowl, there was no telling what he’d do if angered further.
&nbs
p; She could only nod in response to Daniel and, after holding her gaze for a moment, as if coming to a conclusion of his own, he walked around the back of the carriage to Nicholas’s large black horse.
She watched Nicholas leap to the ground. What a fool to think she’d escape Captain Ferguson’s notice.
The two men stared at each other. It was maddening waiting for Nicholas’s accusations. There was no mistaking the pain he tried to hide. Isabella shuddered. A flicker of fear and uncertainty battled behind Nicholas’s eyes before they were swept away by the storm raging there.
What right had he to be hurt? Nicholas had barely paid her much attention in the last two days, summoning her when needed, conversing only in necessity. His lack of interest drove her escape. What had he expected? Her fingers weaved tighter at the horror of a loveless marriage, glued by cordial convenience. Or worse, distrust and anger now that she had tried to flee. She sat tense, waiting for Nicholas to explode.
The accusations never came.
His speechless gaze was more chastising than any words. How did he manage to make her feel wrong for doing what she believed right: wanting love and…passion?
It was Daniel who broke the spell. “What took you so long?”
The exchange was swift. In moments, Nicholas’s bulk filled the carriage and Daniel was leaping onto Nicholas’s big black stallion, securing the reins in his fist.
The small confines became charged with a current that lit her nerves. The tension was as intense as it was arousing. Small gasps whispered past her lips. Her stomach curled when their thighs brushed. Their eyes locked as he unwrapped the secrets of her traitorous body and that wicked sensation moved lower.
“Are you unharmed, Isabella?”
Her tongue ran along her dry lips. “Daniel would never…” She looked at Daniel and saw him stiffen at the mere suggestion.
“I’m well aware of what Lord Daniel is capable of,” Nicholas said tightly.
“Then you know I would never harm Lady Isabella.”
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