by Rose Gordon
“As it would happen,” he continued a moment later. “My heart belongs to another.” A light blush stole over his cheeks. “And while I cannot marry her, I also cannot not continue to see her.”
“Cannot not continue to see her?” Isabelle repeated slowly, trying to make sense of his unusual statement. She reached forward with intent to pat his arm to assure him it was all right, but before she could, she retracted her arm and offered him a weak smile. “I’m not asking you to.”
“You’re not?” His voice held an edge of excitement, then his face fell and he shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn a blind eye to me and Lady Vessey.”
Isabelle blinked. What was he talking about this time? Only a blind person could have missed the flirtation between the two over these past few days. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Edmund. I have no intention of turning a blind eye to anything so obvious.”
“But you have no interest in joining?”
“Joining?”
He flushed. “I assumed by your lack of response to my flirtations while playing Whist that you weren’t interested in a relationship with the both of us.”
“The both of you?” she asked, aghast.
He nodded. “I can’t give her up, Isabelle. It’d just be easier if you embraced what I’m suggesting. Then I won’t have to choose.”
She absolutely would not! Besides that it was indecent, she had no such feelings for either Edmund or Lady Vessey. “Edmund, you’re not talking any sense.” Then again, he’d talked a little out of her range of comprehension on many occasions.
He sighed. “Don’t you understand, Isabelle? I cannot marry her. I need an heir and she is too old. But I cannot give her up.”
“And you don’t have to,” Isabelle said pointedly. “I know you’ve offered marriage to me before, but I’m not holding you to it.”
“Then who will you marry?” His tone dripped with disbelief.
“Apparently, I’m still legally married to Sebastian.”
His expression hardened, then softened, then turned to one that said he was torn between shock and outright confusion. “I take it you just learned of this last night.”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, trying to keep her forced smile in place.
“It is now.” He twisted his lips and drummed his fingers along the top of the backrest of the chair recently vacated by the mouse. “I assumed by your face that there had been some sort of trouble between you and at least one of your suitors. I also found it very odd that they both left the party early this morning. Now, I know why.”
“Excuse me, they both left the party?”
Edmund nodded. Lord Belgrave left before the sun came up and I saw Mr. Appleton’s coach pulling away while I was in the breakfast room.”
Isabelle’s mind spun until she was almost so dizzy she needed to sit. Almost. There wasn’t anything in this world that would make her want to sit anywhere in this room. She should have been the one to inform Simon. Not that she was positive he knew, he might have left following another disagreement with Giles. “It was because they both left that you decided to approach me about this...” She waved her hand through the air, words failing her. “Development. You thought both of my potential suitors had abandoned me—” she tried not to snort at the idea of referring to Sebastian as a suitor, he was the furthest thing from it, especially now— “and you thought to explain the circumstances of what a marriage to you would entail?”
“Something like that.” He picked at the cracked leather on the chair with his thumbnail. “My aunt thought you needed to know of my feelings for Lady Vessey and let you decide if you could live with the arrangement. But now I don’t think it’ll matter to you.”
“No,” she agreed numbly. There was still so much to take in: both Simon and Sebastian had left without a word to her of explanation. Not to mention whatever unusual relationship Edmund had just suggested to her. She covered her face with her hands and tried to make sense of it all.
“If it helps, I think Lord Belgrave will make you a fine husband.”
Isabelle dropped her hands and straightened. “He’s a liar.”
“Well, that’s true,” Edmund conceded. “Did he say why he lied?”
She shook her head.
“Did you ask?” he pressed.
She shook her head again. “Why should I? He lied and if that wasn’t bad enough, encouraged me to act a fool.”
“By flirting with Mr. Appleton?”
“Yes.”
Edmund lifted his right hand to his chin and idly tapped his finger against his lips. “I’m probably not going to say this right, so please assume the best.” At her nod, he continued. “Your flirtations were wasted on Mr. Appleton. Not to say you’re not desirable, because you are,” he rushed to add. “But he’s not the one to see it.”
“Yes, I know. He’s far too distracted with Giles.”
He blinked. “No, I don’t think there’s anything between those two.”
“Except that they’re brothers,” Isabelle clarified while trying not to laugh. She’d quite forgotten that it might not be public knowledge about Giles and Simon’s relation—especially if very few even knew of Giles’ existence until a few weeks ago. Besides, now that she knew what kind of relationships Edmund was interested in she should have been more clear.
“That explains more, but not everything.” Edmund swiped his hand through the air. “Isabelle, if he’d truly been interested in you, his brother’s presence wouldn’t have kept him from responding to you. And it certainly wouldn’t have made him seemingly unaware of what was going on between you and Lord Belgrave at the card table. He’d have been jealous and might have even called the man out for what he was doing.” He shrugged. “But he didn’t.”
“Then why would he have acted so interested in me while we were in London?”
“Maybe he was then.”
“And then suddenly he wasn’t?”
“He might have just realized it was only a passing infatuation and been willing to accept that.”
“Accept that?”
Edmund lifted his hands in a casual show of defeat or indifference. “Very few marry for love, Isabelle. You know that. When his infatuation faded, perhaps he realized that while his feelings for you weren’t that strong, he valued your friendship and thought that was a good enough reason to marry.”
She nodded her understanding. That’s all she was looking for in a marriage to him: friendship.
Edmund crossed his arms and continued, “While some might marry for friendship, it wouldn’t make him take exception to Sebastian’s closeness nor make him take notice of your flirtations.” He offered her a wide smile. “Just like you didn’t seem to mind my relationship with Lady Vessey.”
He was right on that score. “And Sebastian? What was his plan?”
“I wouldn’t begin to know. Did he tell you anything?”
“If he did, I don’t remember it,” she admitted, racking her brain for any snippet of conversation she could dredge up from last night. The truth was there wasn’t much she could remember after he informed her that they were still married. Between the blood pounding in her ears and the disbelief and humiliation swallowing her whole there was more that she didn’t remember than what she did.
“Then you should ask him.”
She frowned. “I don’t think I want to.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what to say to him.”
“I think the words, ‘I love you’, might help.”
She sputtered with laughter. “Now, that’s wasted breath. Sebastian doesn’t care if I love him or not. The only reason he even told me the truth last night was because—” She broke off as a violent blush came over her.
“All the more reason to tell him how you feel,” Edmund said with a chuckle.
“Sebastian doesn’t want my love, only my body.” She almost couldn’t believe she’
d said that, but considering everything else they’d just discussed, there wasn’t a reason not to. She craned her neck around to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Finch. She was sitting on a green velvet chaise in front of the far window, reading a book.
“The gentleman I saw creeping around the estate observing you didn’t look to just be in lust.”
“Then why did he leave without saying anything to me?” she demanded, not sure why she was suddenly so hurt by his leaving.
“I didn’t ask him. You’ll have to do that.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Are you afraid that he’ll tell you he only lusts after you?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Then you must ask.”
Chapter Thirty
It had been two days since Isabelle had convinced Mrs. Finch to go back to London and she was still numb.
Just as the sun was setting the coach came to a stop in front of Mrs. Finch’s rented townhouse.
Warily, Isabelle climbed out and went straight up to her bedchamber where Tilde helped her change and she fell asleep from pure exhaustion.
The next morning, she was no closer to resolving her feelings than she’d been since Sebastian had informed her they were still married.
But Edmund was right, there were so many things she didn’t know and the only way she ever would have definite answers was to go to see Sebastian, because she doubted he’d be coming to see her after the way he’d left her room that night then disappeared from the house party.
“Tilde, I’d like you to follow me on a walk this morning,” she said to her maid who stood at the door.
“Yes, miss.”
Mrs. Finch gave her a knowing look, and instead of saying anything, waggled her eyebrows.
“Thank you,” she murmured to Mrs. Finch, kissing her cheek.
Mrs. Finch reached for her arm to stay her while she was still so close. “Just to be clear, I wouldn’t be letting you go if I wasn’t so sure he’d act a gentleman while alone with you.”
Flames crawled up Isabelle’s face as memories of her last time alone with Sebastian came to mind. “Yes, ma’am,” she croaked; then ignoring Mrs. Finch’s cackle, she left the room and went to the front door.
She waited for Tilde to finish tying on her bonnet, then taking a deep, determined, breath, she opened the door and with heavy feet, descended the stairs.
Halfway to his bachelor lodgings, she spotted a bench and sat to rest. What would he say? Would he care that she came? She shook off the thought. It didn’t matter if he was pleased or annoyed that she came. She wanted answers. So why then, if she wanted them so bad, no matter what they were, did her entire inside feel as if it were being crushed beneath a team of four?
She jumped up from the bench as best that crushing weight would allow and continued in the direction toward his townhouse.
He lived close enough that in only ten painfully long minutes, she had arrived and found herself clenching the handrail on the side of the stairs.
Tilde cleared her throat.
“I’m paying a call,” Isabelle said with more confidence than she felt.
Tilde looked skeptical, but didn’t question her.
Inclining her chin and willing away the imaginary weights that held her captive, Isabelle climbed the stairs. Extending her hand forward, she debated whether she should bother to knock or just go in. She was Lady Belgrave, after all.
She decided to knock. Best to not scandalize the butler on her first visit.
After giving two swift bangs she clasped her hands together and waited.
“May I help you?” a stoic, aging butler with thin lips asked.
“I’m here to see Lord Belgrave.”
He pierced her with his gaze. “This isn’t the hour to be entertaining your sort.”
“And what sort is that?” Isabelle challenged.
Wordlessly, he began to slam the door in her face, but she stopped him—barely—by reaching forward and pressing her hand against the door.
“I’d be careful were I you, sir. Your job depends upon your treatment of the lady of the house.”
His facial expression didn’t change and Isabelle just wiggled her way into the house. “Madam, I don’t know who you are—”
“Yes, that is quite clear.” She flashed him a smile and prayed he wouldn’t be able to see how nervous she was. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Isabelle Gentry, Lady Belgrave, the mistress of this house.”
The butler crossed his arms. “His lordship is unmarried.”
“Yes, that’s what many believe, but the truth is, he is married. To me. So if you’d like to keep your post you’ll take me to see him post haste and make sure my maid is made comfortable.”
The man’s nostrils flared, the only sign that he was anything but impassive. “Madam, I might be a score past forty, but I am not too old and frail to put you out on your ear myself.”
Isabelle pursed her lips. “Touch me and you’ll be sacked without a reference.”
White lines appeared around the butler’s mouth. “John, Daniel,” he clipped.
Irritation built in Isabelle’s chest. She wasn’t about to be tossed out of her husband’s townhouse by two ruffians. She spun around and headed down the hall at a half-walk, half-run, almost like a trot.
“Come back here, madam!” the aging butler demanded, hobbling after her.
Isabelle picked up her pace. “My name is Lady Belgrave, not madam.”
As soon as the words were past her lips a door ten feet down the hall swung open and a tall form emerged: Lord Clearcreek.
Isabelle skidded to a halt and two seconds later the butler was at her side.
“My apologies, my lord,” the older man said, gasping for air. “She pushed her way inside.” His face grew bright red and Isabelle would wager it had nothing to do with his recent bout of exercise. “I’ll have her removed right away.”
“That’s not necessary, Goosey,” Lord Clearcreek said tonelessly from where he stood in the hall just past the threshold of the room he’d been occupying. He flickered a glance to Isabelle. “She is who she says she is. For now.”
Ignoring her father-in-law’s stiff posture, she waited for the butler to offer his apologies and scurry back to the door where Tilde was waiting for him.
“I’m here to see Sebastian,” she said by way of explanation as she let herself into Sebastian’s study.
“He’s not here,” Lord Clearcreek barked, coming into the room behind her.
Isabelle studied the room. She’d never actually been in a study before and wasn’t sure what to expect. There were two large windows that filled two-thirds of the back wall, parquet floors, a large mahogany desk in the center of the room with a stack of papers on each of the two far corners. There were two wing-backed chairs positioned in front of the desk and another two chairs opposite a red settee on the far end of the room. There were a few side tables here and there and a fireplace near the settee and chair arrangement. It wasn’t the most inviting room she’d ever been in, but it was still comfortable in a masculine sort of way.
“When shall I expect him to return?”
“Perhaps you’ll see him again in another six years.” The bitterness in Lord Clearcreek’s tone was unmistakable.
“Pardon me?”
Lord Clearcreek leaned his hip against the side of Sebastian’s desk and crossed his arms. “He signed the annulment papers, Miss Knight.”
Her breath left her lungs in one swift whoosh. “Pardon?” she choked, unable to know why his simple statement had the power to grind her heart to dust.
“He signed the papers. You are welcome to marry whoever you want.”
“Why?”
“It’s what you wanted,” he said, his tone and expression full of annoyance. “As I said, you may go and marry another.”
No, she couldn’t. Not when her knees were about to buckle. She collapsed in one of the armchairs in front of Sebastian’s desk in an undignified manner.
“Is there something about my words you don’t understand, Miss Knight?” Sebastian’s father snapped.
“There’s a great deal I don’t understand, Lord Clearcreek,” she said, matching his tone. “Why didn’t he just sign them in the first place?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, actually, it matters a great deal.”
Lord Clearcreek’s cold stare sent chills down her spine. “If I answer your question, will you agree to leave?”
Isabelle didn’t really think she had a choice, but at least if she agreed to leave after he answered, she’d get at least one answer. That was better than nothing. “Yes, my lord.” She dropped her eyes to wait for whatever cold response he’d offer her and her eyes caught on a folded piece of parchment addressed to the head of parliament on the top of the stack of papers closest to her.
“He wanted to thwart your father, and me,” the last was more of a mumbled afterthought.
She looked up and gave him a cold stare. “I don’t doubt it irritated you significantly that Sebastian didn’t sign the papers, seeing as how you wanted him to have a more noble bride befitting his title. My father, however, might not have been pleased that there was a scandal surrounding my marriage to Sebastian, but I doubt he’d press for an annulment which would only cause a larger scandal.”
Lord Clearcreek twisted his lips into a sneer. “All right. The truth is, when Sebastian was made to leave, you were not doing so well, but the physician was hopeful that you’d make some sort of recovery—even if not completely well enough. I think perhaps he felt guilty that he’d not only made you unmarriageable because of the scandal, but also felt enough pity for you and your circumstance that if something happened to him while he was on Tour, at least you’d receive a jointure upon his death—even if it was undeserved.”
The disdain that filled his unkind words barely registered to her and for as much as she hated to admit how much Lord Clearcreek disliked her, she recognized his words as the truth. Sebastian might have been angry with her for deceiving him, but he’d have never been so heartless as to have completely abandoned her. She still didn’t know why he’d left the country for five years, of course. However, his wanting to make sure she was cared for in one way or another was a trait he’d always possessed—just like the time when she was eight and he was eleven and he’d told her if she fell in the frigid pond she’d have to shiver home naked because he wasn’t gentleman enough, nor was she lady enough, for him to strip off his clothes for her to wear home; then when she really did fall in, he’d found her a blanket in the stable to bundle up in while he gave her a ride on his horse back to her house.