by Sara MacLean
As the trio descended the stairs to the second floor, Isabel became aware of the noise. It was a loud, raucous collection of chatter unlike anything she’d ever heard. They hurried to the top of the stairway leading to the grand foyer, and she paused there, frozen in surprise at the picture below.
The entryway to the Park was filled with men. Men with pails and crates and satchels, each more surprising than the next, each attempting to gain the attention of Jane, who, standing several steps up the staircase, was doing her very best to play the part of unflappable butler. Of course, it seemed that few butlers in the world had ever had to deal with half of the residents of Dunscroft in their main hall.
Descending, she came to Jane’s side as the butler called out, “Good sirs, if we could all have a moment of quiet while we sort things out, perhaps it would make all our lives slightly easier?” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “Certainly it would help me to think.”
Isabel asked, “What on earth? ”
Jane turned to her. “It’s about time you arrived.”
“Who are they? ”
“From what I can tell,” Jane said, pointing out the men in question as she spoke, “that boy has three crates of candles and more on order; those two have been sent to repair the western fence; that one is here to tune the pianoforte—did you even know that the things required tuning?—the man in the topcoat is waiting to meet with you so you may select a coach to go with your new carriage horses, which are already in the stables—Kate is beside herself in elation; that one is delivering several casks of wine for the cellars; the two women cowering in the corner, poor dears, are here to outfit all of us in new clothes; that man with the spectacles is a banker, requesting an audience with ‘the lady of the manor’; the circle of giants standing with Rock—Lord knows where they came from—are here to patrol the edges of the property; and—” She peered around the fencers. “Oh, yes. There are also a half-dozen roofers requesting access to the attic.”
Shocked, Isabel blinked at the congregation, still not entirely understanding. “What are they all doing here?”
“Music man!” Jane called, drawing the attention of a quiet, wizened craftsman nearby. “The ballroom is through that door there.” She turned back to Isabel. “They say Lord Nicholas sent them.”
It took several seconds for the meaning of Jane’s words to sink in.
“All of them?”
“It is my experience that merchants don’t just show up with free wares, Isabel. Yes. All of them.”
Mute, Isabel looked out over the collection of people in her foyer, overwhelmed. When she finally looked back to Jane and Lara, she could say only one thing. “He sent me roofers.”
Jane was busy instructing the man with the wine to the kitchens. Turning back, she said, “It appears you’ve married a madman.”
She laughed then. “He sent me roofers.”
It was the loveliest thing that anyone had ever given her.
Lara smiled broadly. “He certainly knows the way to your heart, Isabel.”
The tears threatened once more.
If only she had been brave enough to let him in.
Isabel took a deep breath, willing herself to remain strong. Smoothing her hands down her wrinkled skirts, she said, “What do I do?”
“I think you should set those roofers to work.”
Just before dusk, Isabel stood on the front steps of the manor house, watching as the last of the workmen made his way down the long drive from Townsend Park. They had worked for several hours on the roof, promising to return the next day with the materials needed to repair the more significant damage.
As the tradesmen faded into the night, she sat on the wide stone steps, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cool evening breeze as she looked up at the darkening sky, wishing that everything were different.
Wishing that she were more courageous.
She had been so terrified of allowing herself to love him, so afraid that her relationship with Nick would mirror the relationship of her parents. She had been scared that if she were to love him, she would place herself at risk of becoming her mother—of pining away here in Yorkshire waiting, desperately, for him to return.
And so she had not allowed herself to admit to loving him. Yet here she was, pining away in Yorkshire waiting, desperately, for him to return.
It seemed that she had turned into her mother anyway.
But he was not her father.
He had, in one day, done more for Townsend Park than her father had ever done for them. And it was not just the roof, or the fence, or the carriage. It was the way he so clearly cared about the Park. About Minerva House. He’d known the land and the girls for less than a week, but was committed to their well-being. To their future.
Because he was committed to Isabel’s happiness.
She understood that now.
She sighed into the night.
If only she weren’t too late.
“It has been a rather remarkable day, hasn’t it?”
Rock’s voice came from the darkness, and she turned toward him as he came around the base of the stairs, making his way to her. “That is one way of putting it,” she said with a forced smile.
“Your security team is in place. They seem a good group of men. I shall introduce you to them tomorrow. We’ve created a makeshift headquarters in the old woodcutter’s cottage. It will need some basic repairs, but I will speak to Nick about that when next I see him.”
Her chest tightened at Rock’s certainty that he would see Nick again. She wished that she could be so sure of the same. “This all happened so quickly.”
Rock did not speak for a long while, looking out to the dark grounds. Then, finally: “He began the process when the rain stopped. When I went into town to fetch our belongings, he bid me speak to the constable about honorable men who might be interested in work like this.”
Isabel pressed her lips into a thin line. He’d begun the process before Georgiana was kidnapped. Before they’d been forced to marry. Before everything had changed.
They sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts. There were a dozen questions she wanted to ask Rock, her only link to the man she loved—to the man she had driven away—but she was embarrassed and uncertain, and the emotions overwhelmed her.
Ultimately, she asked what seemed like a safe question. “Why did you not leave with him?”
He paused, considering his words. “Because, unlike Nick, I know that leaving the thing I want most in the world is not the way to win it.”
“Lara.”
He did not respond for a long while, so long, in fact, that Isabel began to think that he would not acknowledge the name. When he finally turned to her, his dark eyes were black in the evening light. “Yes.”
She nodded. “I am happy for you both that you have found”—she paused, the lump in her throat making it difficult to finish the sentence—“each other.”
Rock breathed deep. When he spoke, his words were fast and clipped, as though he wished not to be saying them at all. “I know that she is a gentleman’s daughter. That she deserves someone infinitely better than me—a Turk—who will never be fully accepted in her world. I am not a gentleman. Not a Christian. But I care deeply for her. And I will do everything I can to make her happy.” He stopped. “I am very rich.”
Isabel smiled. “I do not know why you think that any of us would care about your being Turkish, Rock. Nor do I know why you would think we require you to be highborn. Have you learned nothing about this motley crew in the week you have been with us? ”
He matched her smile with a very dear one of his own. “I was simply pointing out my faults.”
“Goodness, let us not start doing that, else we shall be here all night as I list my own.”
“Never,” he said graciously, pausing for a long while to choose his next words. “I should like to marry her. And, since you are her closest family, I suppose I am asking you …”
She
met his gaze, tears filling her eyes. “Of course you have my blessing. If she will have you, then you are happily welcome at Townsend Park.” Rock released a long sigh of relief, and Isabel laughed through her tears. “Did you really think that I would refuse you? ”
He shook his head. “I did not know. It is one thing to accept me as a guest in your home. It is another entirely to accept me as your …”
"Family,” Isabel said, placing one hand on his arm. “Cousin.”
He dipped his head. “Thank you.”
“Yes, well, it did not hurt that you are rich.”
He barked in laughter. “Nick was right. Yours is a sharp tongue.”
She grew serious at the mention of Nick. “Too sharp a tongue, I think.” She sighed, turning to this bear of a man. “I ruined it. When I saw him last … he was so different. Cold. Unfeeling.”
“He needs time, Isabel.”
“I love him,” she confessed, and there was something freeing about admitting her feelings to this man, her husband’s friend.
“Did you tell him that?”
She closed her eyes. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what? ”
She gave a little pathetic laugh. “Afraid of him leaving me here. Alone. In love.”
He did not laugh. He did not reference the obvious irony from which she was suffering. He simply said, “I think it is time that you hear about Turkey.”
Isabel looked to Rock. “What about Turkey?”
“I assume he told you that we were in Turkey together.”
“Yes. He said that you rescued him from a prison there.”
“Did he tell you how he landed in the prison to begin with?”
“No.”
“There was a woman. Nick thought he was in love with her.”
A painful image flashed, Nick in the arms of an exotic veiled female who knew all the ways to his heart.
He leaned back against the stone banister, eyes glazed over with the memory. “We had been camped just outside of Ankara for several weeks. The Crown was nervous about rumors of an army being raised in the Empire, and they asked Nick to track an informant who had disappeared without a trace.” Rock’s voice turned admiring. “Nick was a legend across the East. They called him the bulan—the hunter. It was said he could find anyone.”
Isabel nodded. Finding Minerva House must have been a parlor game for him.
“Alana appeared outside his tent one night, bruised and bloodied from a beating she received at the hands of her husband, weeping for help. He took her in, fed her, tended her wounds, but she left him before morning, terrified that her husband would find her and beat her more.”
Isabel winced at the words, immediately understanding that Nick would not have been able to resist such a wounded dove.
“She was back the next night, lip split. And the night after that with some other wound. And then she disappeared. And he grew frantic, worrying over her. He had tracked her to a house inside the city, and he became obsessed with finding her—with assuring himself of her safety. After days of waiting for her, he was finally rewarded with her appearance. She was headed for market with several other ladies from the house. He found a way to speak to her there and she begged him to leave her alone. Assured him that she was fine.”
She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself at the words. No wonder he hated it when she claimed that she was fine without him.
Rock continued, “That night, she came to him again. Unharmed.”
He did not elaborate, but Isabel was no fool. She felt sick at the idea of him with the woman. “Was she very beautiful? “ The question was out before she could take it back.
“Yes. Very.”
Isabel hated her.
“Her beauty was overshadowed by her being evil incarnate.” Rock pressed on. “He begged her to stay with him that night. Assured her that he would keep her safe. Promised her safe travels back to England. She agreed, but refused to leave immediately—gave him some excuse about possessions or some such. He believed her, and they arranged a meeting place and time when he would collect her. And they would run away.”
Dread settled in Isabel’s chest. She knew what was coming, but could not stop herself from listening.
“It was a trap, of course. The Empire knew that the bulan was there, that he was searching for the informant. And they’d somehow discovered that it was Nick for whom they were looking. I was nearby when they took him. I watched the whole thing.” He stopped, lost in the past. “This is the part that I remember the most—it took six enormous Turks, bigger than me, to hold him. When he was subdued, Alana approached, removed her veil, and spat in his face.”
Isabel recoiled at the image of the betrayal.
“He told me that he deserved the scar.”
Rock nodded once. “He thinks he did. As punishment for falling victim to her womanly charms. For believing that she loved him.”
They were silent for long moments as the truth of Nick’s past settled between them. Isabel flinched at the pain he must have felt, having been laid low by a woman he loved.
No wonder he had left.
She had done the same thing.
Rock continued, unaware of the turmoil she was experiencing. “He swore off women then. I’ve never known him to tie himself to one since. Not until we came here. Not until you.”
The words were a physical blow. He had opened himself to her, trusting himself to love again. Trusting her to accept that love. And she had rejected it. Rejected him.
She was going to be sick.
He leaned forward, recognizing her turmoil. “Isabel. He loves you.”
The words made it worse. “I did the same thing she did.” His protest was immediate and unyielding. “No. You did not.”
“He loves me. And I rejected him.”
“Isabel. She betrayed him. She sent him to prison. She had him tortured. He would have died had I not found him.” He paused, using it to emphasize his words. “You are the very opposite of what she was.”
She shook her head. “He does not know that.”
“Yes, Isabel. He does. He just needs time.”
“How much time? ”
“I don’t know. He will not be able to stay away, though. That I can guarantee.”
They were quiet for long minutes, the sound of crickets in the background. Isabel thought about Rock’s story and her own time with Nick.
For her entire life, she had been afraid to take what she wanted for fear of failure. She was afraid to leave Townsend Park and face the gossip that her father caused; she was afraid to send James to school for fear that he might turn into her father.
And she had been afraid to love Nick, for fear of losing herself.
Now, however—without him—she was lost anyway.
But she had a chance to make it right. To make it better.
To have the life of which she’d begun to dream.
All she had to do was reach out and take it.
Take him.
She stood, looking down at Rock. “I want to go after him.”
Rock’s brows shot up. “Now? ”
“Now. Where is he? ”
“Halfway to London, I would imagine.”
London.
She nodded. “Then London it is.”
He stood. “I shall take you.”
She shook her head. “No. I must do this alone.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Isabel. Nick will have my head if I let you travel to London on your own.”
“It will be fine. I shall go by mail coach.”
Rock laughed at the ridiculous prospect. “He shall kill me without a second thought if I allow you to do that.”
“Why? Plenty of girls come here by mail.”
“Yes. Well, you are Lady Nicholas St. John now, sister-in-law to the Marquess of Ralston. You do not travel by mail.”
The conversation was taking up valuable time. She acqu
iesced to speed the process. “Fine. How do you suggest I go?”
“We shall rent a coach and six tomorrow morning.”
“We shan’t be there for days!”
He sighed. “If we stop only to change horses, we shall be there in two and a half days. Mail coach will take four at the least.”
Isabel’s face lit. “Then your escort would be much appreciated, good sir.”
Rock looked up to the sky. “He’s going to flay me for this.”
She smiled. “Not if I succeed in winning him back. In that case, he shall be eternally grateful.” She turned and headed up the stairs, eager to prepare for the journey. Several steps from the top, she turned back. “Wait. Where do we go once we are in London? ”
Rock did not hesitate. “We go to Ralston House. You will need the assistance of the marchioness.”
Twenty-two
* * *
I should kill you for forcing me to do this.”
“Probably. But you won’t. It’s your own fault for returning to London. If I were you, I would have stayed away for the rest of summer.”
“How would I have known that Callie was hosting a summer ball?” Nick took a long drink from the tumbler of scotch he held, stopping to scowl at his brother. The twins sat in Ralston’s study as the orchestra in the gardens beyond began tuning their instruments. In less than an hour, half of London’s elite—the half that had remained in town for the month of July—would be in the gardens, as well. Nick fidgeted in his formal attire. “Who has even heard of a summer ball?”
“Callie thought it would be a good way of keeping Juliana in the public eye,” Ralston answered, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “I might remind you that our sister suffers from something of an unfortunate reputation.”
Nick growled into his scotch. “For no reason other than because our mother was a—”
“Yes. Well, society seems not to care much for the hows and whys.” Ralston leaned forward to add more of the amber liquid to Nick’s glass. “Callie is happy that you are here, Nick. Juliana shall be, as well. Try to enjoy yourself tonight.”
Enjoy himself.
As though that were possible.