She finally took the obvious hint that he had no wish to converse with or even look at her and slunk back to her chamber, slamming the adjoining door behind her. The moment she did he leaned his forehead against the wood of the wardrobe, drowning in dismay.
Chapter 22
It was a tense and silent ride to White Hall. The last thing Ram was in the mood for was to be feted and fawned upon by the King’s lackeys. Especially since he recognized the look in Izzy’s eyes that made it clear she intended to take her anger out on him if she found an opportunity.
And the best way for her to do that involved Paul Huntley, who would likely be present this evening.
He hated that he already knew her so well in such a short time that he could read her mind. He also knew she never acted with malicious intent. When she was hurt or believed someone wronged her, she acted without thought. While he doubted he had the capacity to hurt her in any way other than physically, his earlier behavior toward her was entirely offensive. He’d treated her with a complete lack of respect when he’d taken her to bed and he was sorry for it, though deep down he couldn’t regret it. Their afternoon romp had forced him to a decision about a crucial matter that might have taken him weeks or even months longer to arrive at if not for what he’d done. In the long run he was saving himself unnecessary heartache.
Tonight he’d pay the price for that convenience, without a doubt.
He studied her. She sat across the carriage, studiously avoiding any eye contact with him. She’d given him the silent treatment since she’d slammed out of his bedchamber earlier that evening.
She was a vision of loveliness in her new indigo gown delivered just that day. Her chestnut hair glowed next to the vivid jewel-tone of the fabric and the sapphires at her neck reflected in the blue of her eyes. She took his breath away.
His heart lurched.
She might be wearing his ring on her finger and his gems at her throat, but she’d never truly be his.
In his frustration he wanted to punch something, yet there was no one to blame but himself. He’d known going into this where her affections lay, yet still he’d persisted. And then he’d irrevocably ruined everything on their wedding night.
Should he tell her he’d decided to end the marriage? If he told her he would grant her an annulment so long as she hadn’t quickened with child, she would keep her distance from his bed. If he didn’t tell her- well who knew? Izzy was a woman with very physical needs, and as her behavior earlier in the day proved, she wasn’t averse to taking advantage of their situation to gain her own satisfaction.
Part of him hoped she already bore the fruit of their lovemaking. Then she’d be honor-bound to remain his wife, and he honor-bound to care for her.
Did he want to keep her for only that reason?
The answer his mind returned was a resounding Nay.
Either she wanted him for who he was, or they’d go their separate ways. His decision from earlier would stand. If she wasn’t pregnant, the marriage would end.
The sounds of voices and horses wafting through the night brought his attention to their arrival at White Hall. Turning, he found Izzy’s eyes upon him, watching him with a contemplative look upon her face. What was she thinking, and did he truly want to know?
He leapt from the carriage, turning to take her hand to help her descend.
As usual, the court thronged with people ever eager to dance attendance on the King. John Maitland, Earl of Lauderdale caught his attention, grinned widely, and clapped him painfully hard on the shoulder “Och, laddie, How’ve ye been?”
Ram grinned as he took in the sight of the corpulent Scot with the bright red hair standing up wildly. Everything about the man was coarse and uncouth, and Ram liked him all the more for it. One had to respect a man who carried no shame for his origins. “Uncle John,” he used the title with exquisite sarcasm “you’re looking well.”
The Earl snorted. “A hell of a lot better than the last time ye clapped eyes upon me, that’s fer sure.”
When they’d last crossed paths, the earl had been imprisoned in the Tower of London. Lauderdale had been one of the most influential Scots during the civil wars, and a strong supporter of the Presbyterian cause in Scotland, a Covenanter. After the elder King Charles’ execution, Lauderdale switched his allegiance to the young Charles and ended up in the Tower as a Parliamentary prisoner after the Battle of Worcester.
Ram had used their common surname, though they were no relation as far as either knew, to visit the prisoner. Outwardly, it had seemed to the government that Ram was using his influence to turn Lauderdale’s allegiance back to the Parliamentary cause. In reality, he’d used the visits to discuss ways to bring to heel the Scottish support that had been promised to Charles, in his bid to retake the throne. Ram would then report any progress to the monarch.
Ram remembered his manners at that precise moment, when a glance at Izzy revealed her confusion.
“Allow me to introduce you to the Earl of Lauderdale. Lauderdale, this is my wife, Isabelle.”
“So ye got yerself leg-shackled, did ye laddie?” Even as he uttered the statement, the man’s sharp eyes peered down the bodice of Izzy’s gown. Lauderdale was a man who enjoyed his food, his wine, and his women, all to a great extent. Despite Ram’s decision regarding his marriage, he stiffened as the Scot continued to ogle Izzy quite openly.
“Please excuse us, my lord. I see some people we must greet.”
The Earl continued to watch Izzy, eyes lit with speculation. “Aye. But ye must join me for a proper supper one of these days. I’ll no’ take no fer an answer.”
With an ambiguous nod, Ram led Izzy away by the elbow.
“A relation of yours, my lord?” She asked when they were well out of earshot.
“Sorry to disappoint, but you cannot claim connection to the powerful Earl of Lauderdale through marriage, Isabelle.”
Her eyes kindled with annoyance. “I was only about to mention that boorishness must run in the family. But you must have come by yours from a different source.”
His fists clenched. How could she so easily drive him to want to commit violence?
Just as he was about to fire off a taunt of his own, a hand on his shoulder startled him. “Is that Ramsay Maitland, or do my eyes deceive me?”
Ram spun around to find his oldest friend standing before him.
“Lucien!” Ram embraced him briefly. “What brings you to White Hall?”
“Ah, the same old routine now that order’s been restored. Wine, women, and song.” His gaze slipped to Izzy. “And not necessarily in that order.”
Ram’s possessive instincts rose just as they had when Lauderdale had looked at her that way, because Lucien was charming, handsome, and debonair…well more of a threat then Lauderdale would ever be.
Ram recognized the slow grin of appreciation that lit Lucien’s face. “Your new ladybird is lovely,” he proclaimed. “You must be fresh to the court market, my sweet, for I would have never forgotten you had we met.” He took her hand and kissed it.
Izzy gasped and jerked her hand back while Ram choked back a laugh.
“Lord Lucien De Vere, allow me to present to you my wife, Isabelle Maitland. Darling, this is my oldest friend, Lord Lucien.”
Lucien’s green eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered his decorum. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Royston. Please excuse my gaffe; I never imagined my old friend here would ever get himself leg-shackled.”
Ram wrestled back a grin. That was twice in a matter of five minutes someone had referred to his marital state as “leg-shackled” in front of her. She could not be well pleased.
“And you, my friend? No wife yet?”
Lucien snorted. “That’s for my brother to suffer. I’m just the spare. And in light of that I’ve deemed it unnecessary to shackle myself in that most unholy of sacraments.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Ramsay. I see Countess Castlemaine. I’m going to give her my regards.”
His humor fled and for a moment, jealousy clawed at him with sharp talons. An insidious voice in his head wondered if she’d really spotted Huntley and that was her reason for running off. He forced himself not to follow the direction of her gaze.
It didn’t matter. If she wanted that peacock, he wouldn’t stand in her way.
“Easy on the wine, my love. You know how it goes to your head.”
She glared at him with the ice of a winter storm, turned on her heel and stalked off.
“Prickly one you’ve got there, though I’ll grant you, she is a beauty.”
He turned back to his friend, shaking his head. “Not my choice,” he grunted, knowing he told a half-truth.
“Ah.” Lucien shuddered in commiseration. “The Earl decided it was time, did he?” When Ram nodded, Lucien laughed. Then his mien turned serious.
“Your father never learned of your participation with the Royalist Cause?”
Ram motioned to a servant to bring him a goblet of wine. Lucien was the only person he’d ever told about his secret missions. “Nay, thank God.” Then, reconsidering, he downed the remainder of the drink in one swallow. “On second thought, perhaps he did, and marrying me off to Izzy is my punishment.”
Lucien laughter was warm, it had always attracted friends and lovers to him for as long as Ram could remember. Physically, they’d always strongly resembled one another, both with dark hair and similar builds, though Lucien’s eyes were vivid green to Ram’s gray, and Lucien had a cleft in his chin the women seemed never able to resist. In their youth, they’d oft pretended to be brothers in order to perpetuate some prank or another. But Ram had always been more serious minded than his fun-loving friend, who as a second son, didn’t shoulder the burden of a family heritage. Many times in the past, Ram had envied his friend his ability to live an unfettered life of freedom, and his ability to find humor in almost any situation. He often teased Ram into the realization that he’d taken something far too seriously, while in return Ram had often stopped Lucien from some of his more outrageous decisions. They’d traveled together, drank and wenched together. Ram, never having had a brother, considered Lucien the closest thing.
“Are you back in London to stay?”
Lucien shrugged. “For the time being. Until the next great adventure comes along-”
He stopped speaking at the same moment Ram felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and his eyes widened to find Belinda standing before him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, my lord.”
“Miss Spencer? What brings you to London?” Dressed for an evening at court, she seemed almost transformed. Her dark blonde hair, usually pulled back in plain, unflattering hairstyles, was swept up, leaving tendrils to cascade down her slender neck and about her shoulders. The up-tipped nose, so similar to Izzy’s, was dotted with a sprinkling of freckles. Her serious blue eyes, also like his wife’s, were trained on him, though lacked the irritation and exasperation usually reflected back at him from her cousin’s gaze.
With a jolt, it occurred to him she was rather lovely.
“Izzy’s parents are in London and I decided to come along. Is Izzy here with you tonight?”
In her earnest tone, he heard the concern for her cousin.
Swiveling his head around the crowded hall he spotted Izzy, standing with Charles’s mistress, exactly where she said she would be, surprisingly. He pointed in her direction.
“Thank you, my lord.” With a short nod, she headed in the direction he’d pointed.
When Ram turned back to his friend, he caught Lucien’s gaze following Belinda as she walked away, a contemplative look on his face.
“Your wife’s friend? I thought beautiful women like your wife preferred to keep company with less attractive friends.” Lucien shook his head even as he continued to watch Belinda disappear into the crowd.
Ram raised an eyebrow in surprise at Lucien’s obvious attraction to Belinda, but then his protective instincts arose. Belinda had been kind to him, and she’d given him her support when he needed it, although the last time he encountered her she was quite cool to him, which led him to believe Izzy had shared the details of their wedding night. Even if she was angry with him, she’d earned his respect and he would watch over Belinda as he’d always watched over his sister and now his wife. And while he loved his friend dearly, Lucien’s reputation as a libertine meant he could be a danger to an inexperienced woman like Belinda.
“My wife’s cousin, Lucien. No one of particular interest.”
Lucien looked away from Belinda. “No, quite right. No fire in that one. She seemed quite the timid thing.”
Ram bit back a smile, remembering Belinda’s anger at him when Izzy had flown. But he wasn’t about to volunteer that information. He certainly didn’t want to inadvertently challenge Lucien to do something stupid.
Lucien moved on to a new subject. “Come. Let’s go visit our merry monarch, shall we? He’ll be delighted to see you.”
Ram nodded. He had an issue or two to speak with the King about anyway. After all, as the head of the church, an annulment fell squarely in his lap.
***
Izzy stood near Barbara Palmer’s elbow, feigning an interest she didn’t really feel as the Countess gossiped about the different courtiers as they passed by. The King’s lover used her fan as a weapon, pointing it at people about whom she had a particularly spicy tale, or using it to cover her expression of distaste or humor as she told scintillating tales of others. After spending a half hour in the woman’s company, Izzy didn’t like her anymore than she had upon their first meeting, but it was probably best to remain on this woman’s good side. She did share the bed of the King of England, after all.
“And look at this little country mouse coming our way. What’s she doing out of the schoolroom do you think?” Barbara remarked in a snide tone as she handed down her indictment to whichever unfortunate woman caught her notice, tossing her sable hair back over her shoulder as she did so, a motion Izzy noticed she did often, likely to draw attention to the fabulous diamonds fastened about her neck. A gift, no doubt, from her royal lover.
Izzy turned in the direction Barbara motioned without much interest, which changed the instant she recognized the “little country mouse” as Belinda. With a gasp she flew from the Countesses’ side, giving no word of excuse. She reached Belinda and wrapped her arms around her.
“Belinda! What in the world are you doing here! Wait, I don’t care, I’m just so glad you’re here! Come, let’s go somewhere we can be private.”
“Izzy! You look ravishing! Please, let me catch my breath first.”
Izzy left her for a moment to fetch two goblets of wine, and shoved one into her cousin’s hand upon her return. “Drink this.”
With a grateful look, Belinda took a heavy swallow. Izzy finished her own drink, somewhat peevishly as she remembered Ram’s warning. Then she let Belinda lead her outside onto a terrace that looked over the privy garden and afforded as much privacy as was possible at court.
Izzy glanced around quickly to see if Ram noticed her, for he’d be furious if he saw her go outside, assuming she had an assignation in mind no doubt, but he and his odious friend had disappeared from where they’d stood minutes before.
When they were finally beyond the crush of people, Izzy hugged Belinda again. “What are you doing here?”
“Your parents came to London, presumably to reopen the townhouse, but if you ask me it was to make sure Ram found you safe and to assure themselves all was well.” Belinda gave her a reproving look. “You shouldn’t have used me the way you did to run off.”
Izzy hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry, Bel. I needed the extra days to get here before Ram.”
“And? Is everything finally settled between you two now?”
Tears burned Izzy’s eyes and she shook her head. “It’s drea
dful! Worse than dreadful.” She sniffed. “Did you say Mama and Papa are here?”
A yearning for her parents she hadn’t felt since she was a young girl rose within her. Will Papa ever forgive me?
“They are here tonight, but ‘tis not a good time to speak with them, in public like this, unless you want the entire court to know about your family strife. You don’t want to cause a scene to feed the gossipmongers. Why don’t you come to the townhouse tomorrow and see them, and then we can talk about what’s bothering you so.”
Izzy wanted that more than anything. She needed her cousin to help make sense of her situation. Belinda was so very good at that.
“I’ll come for supper, if you think Papa will be agreeable.”
“You’ll come by, even if he is not,” her cousin said in a tone that brooked no resistance, with a pat on Izzy’s hand. “Now, let’s go back inside before the gossips comment on your absence.”
Izzy’s relief almost crushed her. If anyone could help her sort out the mess she’d made, it was Belinda. Izzy led the way back inside, already with a lighter heart, plunging into the mad crush of people. Now that Belinda was at her side, Izzy meant to avoid Countess Castlemaine completely, but it seemed the woman had been waiting for her, for she motioned Izzy over as soon as they’d stepped back into the hall.
With a sigh, Izzy led Belinda toward the Countess. Barbara might be a snake, but it was always better to have the snake as a friend than an enemy.
“May I present to you my cousin, Miss Belinda Spencer?”
Barbara waved the introduction away, a smirk planted firmly on her face.
A gorgeous blonde woman had taken the place Izzy had so recently vacated, and Barbara looked from the woman to Izzy with an air of unsuppressed enjoyment.
“Have you met my very good friend, Louisa Hanover?”
Izzy shook her head, giving the newest addition her full attention. The woman towered over Izzy and had flawless porcelain skin, with full lips pouty and rouged, but not overly so. She was exquisite. She’d gowned her statuesque figure in emerald silk, a shade that matched her eyes. A tasteful strand of emeralds twinkled against her neck.
Virtue and Vice Page 24