by Tamara Gill
“Very well,” they agreed, although their tones were less than positive.
“Excellent,” Isolde said, spying Anne beckoning her from across the room. “And now I must mingle and be merry.” Her sisters’ laughter faded behind her as she made her way across the parquetry floor. With the rooms adjacent to the ballroom open for the gambling inclined, the crowd had dispersed a little, which made it easier to move about.
Isolde clutched Anne’s hands as she came to stand before her. “I’m so glad you came tonight. I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Your family has a beautiful home, Isolde. We’re having the most splendid time, even if I am feeling a little poorly.”
“Is all well? Is the baby…” Isolde couldn’t finish the question lest the reply was too upsetting to bear.
“No,” Anne said quickly, understanding dawning in her gaze. “The baby is fine; I’ve just been sick most days. Our doctor says it’s quite normal and should pass, but as yet, it has not. I may have to put a halt to outings, unless they’re entertainments that I cannot live without. Clayton has promised to dance the next waltz with me, and then I shall be going home. I hope you do not mind.”
“Never would we mind. You must look after your welfare above anything else.” Isolde looked about the room. “Where is Lord Kinruth? I have not seen him tonight.” A frown line marred Anne’s forehead, and unease rippled through Isolde. “Is there something else that troubles you?” she asked.
“He wanted to catch up with an old school friend, but I’m loath to tell you who it is, for I fear it may upset you.”
Isolde frowned. “If you’re worried about Moore and Lord Kinruth rekindling their friendship, don’t be. They went to school together. They may be friends without offending me.”
“I know, but…” Anne clasped Isolde’s hand tighter. “Will it not be difficult? It will mean you may be thrown in each other’s paths more often. I would not want to cause you undue pain.”
Isolde shook her head. “Anne, you could never do that.” There was nothing to be done. Merrick was friends with Lord Kinruth, and as unfortunate as that association was, it was no one’s fault. She would have to guard herself more when out with Anne, in case Merrick was with them. As it was, she struggled to tamper her emotions whenever she saw him. The way he looked at her when no one was watching left her morals conflicted in the worst imaginable way. And the best, too, if she were honest.
“I’m so sorry, dearest.” Anne looked close to tears, and Isolde took her hands.
“None of this coincidence of friendship is your fault. If I’m to be a part of this Society again, I must move on and accept that His Grace and I will cross paths. It is a necessary evil.”
Anne sighed, her relief evident. “I’m so happy you said so. I was worried that it would cause trouble between you and me, and I class you as the best of friends. I would hate anything to come between us.”
Isolde shook her head. “Nothing could come between us.” At the spoken words, a shiver ran down her spine as she remembered saying something similar to Letty, now the Duchess of Moore, many years ago. They had been the best of friends, two girls who’d shared everything: their secrets, hopes, and dreams. A pang of loss coursed through her that she’d lost her oldest friend, as well as her future husband, at their betrayal. Life was cruel at times.
The deep rumbling laugh that she knew as well as her own sounded to the side, and Isolde looked about the room, catching the gaze of Merrick as he strolled toward them with Lord Kinruth. As always, since the very first moment he’d been introduced to her, a sizzling attraction coursed between them. Isolde had hoped that after all that had passed, she would no longer feel the need to reach out and pull him to her side, touch him, laugh with him. How could something so good have gone so wrong?
She turned to greet them, and the curious gazes of the guests who watched the play between two people once betrothed were like tiny pinpricks up her neck. She bobbed a small curtsy. “Your Grace, Lord Kinruth.”
The gentlemen bowed. Isolde noted Lord Kinruth took Anne’s hand and pulled her toward the floor. “You owe me a dance, my dear.”
Anne laughed and followed him without question. Isolde met Moore’s gaze and wondered if this situation looked as awkward as it felt. “Are you enjoying yourself, Your Grace?”
His inspection of her was reminiscent of the looks he’d once bestowed upon her when she’d been his and he was hers. Those looks should be saved for his wife, yet Isolde so wished they could be hers. All day and forever.
“I am now.” He took her gloved hand in his and pulled her toward the floor. He should’ve placed her hand on his sleeve, and yet, he kept it firmly clasped in his. She fought to release his hold without success. Damn him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, spotting Leonora’s furious glare from across the room.
“I’m about to waltz with the most beautiful woman here.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she fought not to fold herself into his embrace. Familiar hands clasped her waist, strong and sure, and time fell away. All that was wrong with them, the mess that made up their past, became nothing but a nightmare of long ago. If only it was as easy as a dance to forget. Isolde looked up at Merrick, and pain pricked her heart. “You should dance with your wife.”
He threw her a self-deprecating smile. “My wife doesn’t wish to dance with me, I can assure you of that. For instance,” he said, turning them so she could see Leonora. “Do you see the gentleman standing beside her?”
Isolde glanced over his shoulder. “Lord Barkley. Yes, I see him.” She could also see the duchess leaning so close against the gentleman that her breasts were pressed against the man’s arm. It was perhaps more scandalous than His Grace dancing with his ex-betrothed.
“Let me assure you, the duchess much prefers the company of others over her husband.”
Isolde met his gaze and noted the troubled look in his eyes. “That doesn’t give you leave to make another wrong. You should go to her, fight for her, even. As is your duty.”
He pulled her into a tight turn, the skirt of her gown brushing his breeches. They had not been this close since… Isolde pulled her thoughts away from such musings. Reminiscing of all that she’d lost did no one any good. This Season was her chance for happiness.
Moore leaned down, his breath but a whisper against her ear. “I don’t want to fight for her.”
Isolde turned to meet his eyes. The action placed them close enough to kiss, just a slight lean toward him and they would touch. His attention dropped to her mouth, and she licked her lips, cursing herself for doing so when his attention turned smoldering. Lifting her chin, she pulled away, giving them both much needed space. “You need to stay away from me, Merrick. I’ll not have you do this to me. You made your choice, and now you must live with it.”
“There was no choice in what happened.” He pulled back, his eyes narrowing. “And what if I said I no longer wish to live with it. What would you say to that?”
Isolde shook her head. How dare he act like the victim in what had occurred? It had been his choice. He didn’t have the right to now play her a fool just because his choice hadn’t turned out as well as he’d liked. “Oh no, there was a choice, and you made it perfectly clear. I watched you take your vows. In fact,” she said, anger taking hold of her good sense, “the moment I found you naked in your room with my friend in your bed, your decision was perfectly clear.”
“Had your family allowed me to explain what had occurred, that day could’ve turned out a lot differently than it did. After all that we shared, how could you think I wanted anyone other than you?”
She looked away, noting only a few people were looking at them, which surprised and relieved her. It always seemed as if all the world’s eyes were boring down on her. This conversation was far from appropriate, and it wouldn’t surprise her if the whole ton were leaning in, listening to their every word.
“I think you, of all people, can understand why
they didn’t think you deserved the honor of explaining how my best friend ended up in your bed the night before our wedding.” He paled, but Isolde was past being sorry.
“Leonora was never our friend,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “And do not think, no matter what she says, that she will ever be one to you again.”
“I do not care to be the duchess’s friend, now or ever. This conversation is over, Merrick.” Isolde pulled out of his embrace, curtsied, and smiled delightfully. The less the ton suspected, the better. “I wish you very happy.”
Moore kissed her gloved hand, pinning her with his heated stare. “You may wish all you like, Isolde, but I’ll never be happy so long as we’re apart.”
She pulled her hand free. “Then I’m very sorry for you, because that is something that no one can change. Good night.” Isolde walked away and fought to keep her knees strong lest they give out and collapse beneath her.
Unaware of where she was heading, she stood beside a window and cursed the moment Leonora sidled up next to her and clasped her arm. “Did you enjoy your dance with my delightful husband?”
Isolde was sick of being kind and acting the perfect lady. It was obvious Leonora wished a war of words, and if that was what the harlot wanted, then that was what she would get. “Very much so. He’s most adept.”
Leonora’s eyes narrowed. “If you want a dalliance with him, I’m willing to share. We’ve done it before, you see, had grand parties and well, all I will say is that Merrick is most accomplished even with more than one woman in his bed.”
Isolde gasped at the vulgarity of such talk. To think such things was a notion she’d never contemplated. She shook her head, unsure if Leonora was playing her a fool or trying to shock her into the vapors. “Should you be placed beside the girl I knew as a child, I would not know you now. What happened to you, Letty?”
Her Grace glared, her fingers clawing into Isolde’s arm. “I was never that girl, and that girl is thankfully dead. I love my life and the scandalous way in which I live. And if you think to include yourself in Merrick’s life or to even become his mistress, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ll crush you, should you try.”
Annoyance pricked her hard in the gut, and Isolde removed Leonora’s hand with a punishing squeeze of her own. “Threatened, Letty? How droll of you. And if I wished to have Merrick, I would only have to click my fingers and he’d be mine.” Isolde smiled sweetly and walked away, pleased that for the first time in what seemed eons, she’d rattled her old friend and now nemesis.
Chapter Eight
The following morning, instead of going for her early ride, Isolde was to meet Anne on Bond Street. With her maid in tow, she started toward the shopping precinct, wishing a good morning to those she passed along the way. Anne had stated that today she had woken without feeling ill and wanted to purchase a new hat before the sickness returned.
The day was without fault, not a cloud in the sky or a breeze dared to mar it, and the thought of more shopping with her dearest friend made her outing even more enjoyable. Over the last few weeks, she’d become more enamored of shopping than she’d ever thought possible. To indulge oneself was freeing, and it had been a long time since she’d wanted to pamper herself and just enjoy life.
The houses that ran around her square were a marvel in beauty, with large imposing doors and windows ornate with their architectural designs. Most of the houses were shuttered asleep, their occupants unaware the day had dawned a few hours ago. A few carriages rocked to a halt before homes, their occupants more than likely returning home after a night of revelry.
Just as she was about to turn down Brook Street, she stopped as Leonora stumbled from a carriage, turning back to lean into the equipage, laughing and seemingly kissing whoever it was inside. Isolde braced herself to see Merrick step out after Her Grace, but whomever traveled with the duchess did not follow, but merely moved off. After last night, Isolde could hazard a guess as to whom the gentleman was, if not Leonora’s husband. Her Grace continued to stumble up the stone steps and disappeared inside.
Isolde continued on her way before a commotion behind her made her turn. Loud voices sounded from the ducal residence and, within moments, Merrick ran down the front steps just as his carriage came barreling around the corner from his mews.
As he was giving directions to his driver, he caught sight of her staring at him. Such a faux pas would normally embarrass her to the brightest red, but the panicked fear she could read on his face gave her pause, and she hurried to his side. “Your Grace, has something happened?”
“Isolde,” he said, forgetting to address her correctly. “William is gone. I stupidly allowed Leonora to take him this morning for a walk, and she’s returned just now without him. You know how small he is, and he’s alone, and God knows where. I don’t know what I was thinking. What she was thinking!”
Isolde took his hand and noted it shook. She clasped it tighter. “Did the duchess say where she’d been?”
“She remembers going to the park in the square and then being picked up in a carriage that headed toward the east end, but from there she says her memory of the outing becomes hazy. I cannot begin to know why.”
The sarcasm of his words was evident, and Isolde didn’t know what to say in return. To think of a little boy lost in that part of London wasn’t worth imagining.
“I should never have trusted her.”
Isolde frowned, wondering why Leonora couldn’t remember, not to mention how on earth someone could forget her own child. “Did she visit anyone? Perhaps she’s left him in a shop or at the markets.”
“I must go and find him.” He hesitated at the carriage door. “Would you help me?”
His plea was something she could not deny. She would never deny anyone in such a state of panic. “Very well.” She motioned for her maid to join her before alighting into the carriage. She sank onto the leather squabs, her maid beside her, before the coachman flicked his whip and the horses started forward.
Merrick gazed out the window, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t find him. What if he’s befallen some misbegotten git?”
Isolde leaned over and touched his hand. “We’ll find him.” She took a calming breath, her stomach roiling in fear that, should they not, what horrors could become of the sweet little boy. “Do you know of any places that Her Grace visits? I must admit, I know nothing of that part of London.”
…
“There are two places that we’ll start with. After that I’m at a loss as to where he could be.” The moment Isolde let go of his hand and sat back, he missed her comforting support, her concern for his child. His wife, most likely passed out on her bed, didn’t care an ounce for her son. Had never cared for him, if he were being brutally honest.
The carriage rolled through London, the greater homes of Mayfair giving way to the dwellings of the less fortunate of the city. They crossed London Bridge and turned east toward the wharves. The streets in this part of town were less kept, rubbish stacked beside the road, the children, without supervision, ran about in ragged clothes that wouldn’t be fit for cleaning cloths.
Isolde frowned. “This degradation of people is not right. It makes me wonder what the lords running Parliament are doing to allow people to live in such squalor.”
Merrick nodded. “I suppose you include me in that decree?”
She raised her brow but didn’t reply.
He sighed. “I agree. Something must be done about it, and I promise at the next sitting of Parliament I shall bring up my concerns.”
Isolde nodded before she said, “How long since Her Grace took Lord William?”
The question pulled him from his thoughts. “Just over two hours. She promised to play with him in the park, and there was no stopping his excitement. It’s not often that his mother takes an interest, and so he gobbles it up whenever she does.”
Merrick read the question in her gaze, and he didn’t want to answer it, didn’t want to face what his wife had be
come in the five years since they’d married.
Isolde’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “I still don’t understand how Lord William was left behind. Had the duchess given any indication as to why it occurred?”
“There was no point in asking her much. She doesn’t know of what she speaks.” And had he known Leonora would’ve left the safety of the park and visited such a place with their child, he would never have allowed such an outing. And he would hunt down anyone who was associated with this travesty should anything happen to his boy.
Isolde made an unladylike sound, and he met her gaze. “Stop telling me only tidbits of the story, Merrick. What is going on with Leonora?”
He cringed, wanting to hear his name on her lips, but not in a situation such as this. Damn his wife to Hades. “After we married, the duchess grew quite fond of Town life, spent most of her time here alone, while I remained in the country with William. There are certain locations she’s fonder of than others in the city.”
Isolde grabbed his cane and rapped on the roof. They rocked to a halt, and Isolde turned to her maid, speaking quickly to the young woman, before the woman alighted from the carriage and strode toward the hackney cab beside the curb. Isolde watched as her maid spoke to the driver and climbed up into the carriage before it started forward. Isolde shut the door with a snap and settled back into the squabs. “Now tell me the truth. All of it.”
Merrick rubbed his jaw as their own equipage moved on, wondering where he ought to start. The tale was not one he even liked to think about, nevertheless speak of. “Her Grace is addicted to laudanum and opium. Whatever one she can obtain access to, she’ll partake in.”
Isolde’s eyes flew wide, and her silence was crushing. Shame washed over him that his wife had fallen so low. No matter what he thought of Leonora, he should never have allowed her to succumb to such depths. He should’ve stopped her when he first suspected her of the addiction. He was a disgrace of a husband.
“I’m so very sorry. I had no idea…”