Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series)

by Marie Higgins

  He dressed in his brother’s ridiculous finery—wishing the sissy clothes fit right—and hurried downstairs. Although he didn’t want to speak to Isabelle so soon, the matter couldn’t be put off any longer. He found her in the library, curled on a couch reading a book. She looked so peaceful sitting there, and he hesitated to enter just so he wouldn’t disturb her. A deep sadness furrowed her expression as she read. Was she regretting coming here? Or was it simply the book dampening her mood?

  It had surprised him to see her today. The last they talked about her betrothal, she wanted nothing to do with Viscount Lockwood. Marcus knew why she was there. Money and security. That would have been the only reason to seek Matthew Winston out.

  From down the hallway came a loud thud, jerking him out of his thoughts. Isabelle jumped and turned her attention toward him. He pulled away from the doorframe, not realizing he leaned against it as he watched her. She closed her book and stood, smoothing her hand down her dress.

  He stepped into the room. “Good afternoon, Miss Stanhope. I trust you and your companion are faring well thus far.”

  “Oh yes, my lord. Mrs. Winters is napping in her room. I wasn’t that tired, so decided to read instead. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I enjoy a woman who isn’t afraid of expanding her mind.”

  “Well, I must admit, I usually have my nose in a book during my spare time.”

  “Excellent.”

  She smiled as a small blush dotted her cheeks. “Um… did you need me for something, my lord?”

  “Actually, yes. I thought you might need a new gown.”

  “New gown? Why?”

  He chuckled. “For our wedding, of course.”

  “Oh, yes. Forgive me.”

  “No reason to forgive.” He grinned. “You and Mrs. Winters can go shopping today in town and get what you need. Put the purchases on my credit.”

  “Of course, my lord. Whatever you wish.”

  He cocked his head and stepped closer, still perceiving her sadness. “What I wish is for you to be happy. I sense you’re not. Could you possibly be frightened of the upcoming nuptials?”

  The blush in her cheeks deepened, spreading all over her face. “To be honest, my lord, I am a little. We have barely met. It would be different if we knew each other better.”

  She was lovely when she acted so innocent. In some things she was very innocent, but he knew what a good spy she’d become, so he wondered what part of her display was just an act.

  “I feel I know you well, Miss Stanhope.” He closed the space between them until his clothes brushed her gown. She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. He quickly continued, “Your father talked about you constantly. Although—” He swept his knuckles along her jaw and down her neck. “—I never really knew how lovely and charming you were until today.”

  Her throat tightened and jumped in what looked to be a hard swallow. “Th—thank you, my lord.”

  “Miss Stanhope.” He cupped her chin. Her mouth parted as her tongue slowly drew across her lips. “Are you perhaps worried about the wedding night?”

  Her face heated, warming his fingers considerably. “I—I must say, I am. Very much so.”

  The urge to kiss her became strong, but he fought it every step. Marrying her was right, but not because he could have her any time he wanted. This marriage was just a business arrangement. He only wanted her information. Yet, why couldn’t he stop yearning for her as a real wife?

  This was torture in the worst way.

  “You’re so innocent, Miss Stanhope.” He slid his hands from down her neck again. Her breaths came out ragged. Her hands shook as she clasped onto his, stopping him.

  He grinned. “Indeed, you’re very innocent, which is why it’s important we have a hasty marriage. With you living under my roof, you’re a temptation for me, my dear. I’d hate to have your name ruined, and prolonging the marriage would certainly accomplish that.”

  “You’re thinking logically. Thank you.” Her voice wavered.

  He withdrew his hands, stepping back. “So I bid you a good afternoon, Miss Stanhope.” He bowed and turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  When she touched his arm, heat spread through his limb. He whipped his head around and met her wide-eye stare. It was all he could do not to take her into his arms. Shyly, she removed her hand as her face flamed a brilliant color. Could she feel his desire? Was she experiencing it, too? As he studied her closely, she didn’t resemble that passionate woman who fell easily into Captain Hawk’s arms.

  “What is it, Miss Stanhope? Do you need something else?”

  “Uh, no. I was just wondering if you will be accompanying us to the shops today.”

  “As much as I’d be delighted, I have other obligations. However, I plan on being home for the evening meal, as I hope you will be.”

  “Oh, certainly, my lord.”

  “Splendid. Now I must be off. Time is wasting.”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you again. You have been most kind and generous.” She curtsied.

  As he stormed outside, he tried to override the nagging thought clouding his mind. Both she and Mrs. Winters have mentioned several times how kind he’d been. Even a few of the servants acted surprised to think he took the time to talk to them. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so kind. After all, his brother had been far from it.

  Since there was so much to accomplish today, he couldn’t begin his brother’s true role now. It would have to wait until tonight.

  And he would most surely start it with Isabelle. Something needed to be done so his body didn’t turn to fire every time she batted her eyes or brushed against him. From now on, he couldn’t let her think he was a kind and generous man.

  * * * *

  Isabelle didn’t care what she wore for her wedding. A wedding she didn’t want, she reminded herself as she and Mrs. Winters stood with the dressmaker, trying to decide upon a gown. She couldn’t stop thinking about that moment with Viscount Lockwood today in the library. The heated look in his eyes let her know why he wanted to marry her, and it sickened her. When he gently stroked her throat, bile had risen in her mouth and it was all she could do not to gag.

  Strange, but his touch also stirred emotions in her—those she didn’t want to think about. Visions of Captain Hawk’s magical fingers and melting kisses danced in her head all the while the viscount had caressed her. She didn’t want to think of Captain Hawk because it evoked sad memories. More importantly, she didn’t want her soon-to-be husband to touch her. Unfortunately, Hawk had branded her, and until she got rid of these insane yearnings, she couldn’t let another man become so personal.

  “What do you think of this design, Miss Stanhope?”

  Mrs. Winter’s question brought Isabelle alert and turning to see what they had chosen. She gave them her best smile and nodded. “Perfect, I think.”

  Two hours later after the sewing girls measured her, poked and prodded, Isabelle and her companion walked out of the shop. The owner promised her gown would be ready on the morrow. All Isabelle had to do was mention Lockwood’s name and the dressmakers became eager to please, and they twittered like fools when she mentioned the wedding.

  Dread clutched her stomach. Tomorrow she would wed a man she didn’t love.

  Ever since she was a little girl, she’d dreamed of what her wedding would be like. The man she married would be someone she loved completely. He’d be handsome beyond compare and treat her with the utmost respect and kindness. He’d worship her night and day, and she would be blissfully happy.

  Then again, she hadn’t once met a married couple that lived blissfully happy, so perhaps her dream was slightly far-fetched. Nevertheless, she wanted a man she could love. Viscount Lockwood wasn’t that man. He’d shown her a little kindness since meeting him, but she feared he’d turn back into the greedy, selfish monster she’d heard so much about.

  At least she held her memories close of being with a man so tender and caring, she thought love had ente
red her heart. Maybe it did for a day or two, but no more. It was gone now, never to return.

  “I must say,” Mrs. Winters began as they climbed into the carriage and sat, “I think Viscount Lockwood has taken a liking to you already.”

  Isabelle adjusted on the seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. “Why do you say that?”

  “From talking to people in the dress shop, they say the viscount is never generous. Mrs. Talbot stated how surprised she was to hear the man agreed to even marry you.” Mrs. Winters patted Isabelle’s clasped hands. “Consider yourself lucky, my dear, and use this to your advantage.”

  “I shall try, Mrs. Winters.”

  “There is no trying about it, dear. This is something you must do.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Oh, but just think of all the things he will give you. Things your father was never able to. You will be the most sought after woman in New York.” Mrs. Winters sighed heavily. “I can see it now. Night after night you will be busy with parties, and at least twice a week you will take tea with all the higher class ladies.”

  Isabelle didn’t want to think of those things. Then again, it would certainly take her mind off her unhappy marriage, and especially the man she could never have. Perhaps keeping active in the social circles was the key to her happiness.

  She turned her attention to the passing couples on the street. Would she ever see Captain Hawk again? If she met him without his mask, would she know him? If he touched her, kissed her with so much passion, she would know it was the man she yearned for.

  But alas, that would never come to pass. He had his fill of her, and tossed her aside like yesterday’s food scraps. He had no heart even though he acted as if he did in those few, mind-boggling, wonderful days.

  The carriage stopped in front of the viscount’s home, and the driver helped them down. Mrs. Winters looped her arm through Isabelle’s and squeezed.

  “My dear, you must get rid of that forlorn look about you. It’s not becoming at all.”

  “Forgive me. I have much on my mind, and it’s hard to put it aside and act as if nothing happened.”

  The older woman stopped them before reaching the door. She gave Isabelle a stern look. “Whatever you do, don’t mention Captain Hawk. Your future husband cannot know the vile highwayman held you captive. If so, your chance of marrying him will be lost.”

  Inwardly, Isabelle moaned. “Yes, Mrs. Winters, this I know. I’m very much aware how that man may have ruined my life.” She forced a smile. “Not to worry. I will be most charming and gracious. The viscount won’t know any different, I assure you.”

  “Very good.”

  They entered the house, and right away Isabelle noticed new women servants. Apparently Lockwood had thought about her welfare and knew after the marriage this place would not be a bachelor’s residence any longer.

  The butler introduced her to the new upstairs maids and laundry girls. When he asked if there were any instructions she wanted to give to these new servants, Isabelle’s heart swelled. They had welcomed her into the family so quickly, and she nearly cried from the thrill of it all.

  Even though she may not have had instructions, she still walked around with the butler as he showed the new staff the viscount’s living quarters. It amazed her to think her soon-to-be-husband had so much wealth. Then again, he was titled and came from London. She assumed that had something to do with it.

  By evening, exhaustion affected her limbs and her mind. In her room, she changed gowns, readying herself for dinner with the viscount. Her new personal maid, Laura, was older than her by ten years. While she fixed Isabelle’s hair, they chatted like long-time friends. Could she finally hope to have a good life here?

  Once Laura had Isabelle ready, she left the room and floated down the long staircase, feeling like a princess. Mrs. Winters met her at the bottom, and together they walked into the drawing room. Viscount Lockwood hadn’t yet arrived, and she almost sighed with relief. That man made her nervous, and most of the time she didn’t know how to act around him.

  When the butler passed, she motioned her hand to him to get his attention. “Pardon me, please, but can you tell me if the viscount is here?”

  “Yes, Miss. He’s still up in his room.”

  “Splendid. Thank you.”

  Walking back in the drawing room, she wrung her hands against her middle. If it was up to her, this night would be over already and it would be her wedding day. In fact, even that would be over, and at last she could feel settled. Right away, she would insist on getting to know the other ladies in society’s circles. After all, she must keep herself entertained somehow. Also, she needed to send money to her aunt and uncle, but that would have to wait until she felt confident in asking the viscount.

  Time ticked by slowly, and she kept turning her gaze toward the door. What was taking him so long? Finally, the butler stepped inside the room and cleared his throat.

  “Miss, the viscount won’t be joining you for dinner. He wishes you and your companion to start without him.”

  She hurried to the servant. “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no. He sends his apologizes, but states he has had a trying day and wishes to remain in his room.”

  “That’s understandable.” So then why couldn’t she stay in her room, too?

  As she walked beside Mrs. Winters to the dining room, the older woman’s grumbles gnawed on Isabelle’s nerves. True, it was quite rude of Lockwood not to act as host tonight, but then again, it was his house and he could do as he pleased. This wedding was as much of a shock to him as it was to her, she was certain.

  Isabelle remained silent during her meal, only because she wanted to retire to her room quickly. She, too, had an exhausting day and her new bedroom called to her. Just as she finished her last bite, the butler entered and walked to her, handing her a card.

  “Someone is here and would like to pay a visit, Miss Stanhope.”

  She glanced at Mrs. Winter’s wide eyes, then back to the butler. “Who is it? I don’t know anyone in town.”

  “Well, actually Mrs. Westland came to see Viscount Lockwood, but since he’s not taking visitors, she asked to see you.”

  Mrs. Winters gasped. “Oh, Miss Isabelle, I’ve heard of this woman, and she is a viper to the fullest. I think you should allow me with you during your visit.”

  Isabelle took the card. The woman’s name meant nothing to her, so she nodded to the butler. “Fine, I’ll see her. Show her into the drawing room, please.”

  “As you wish, Miss Stanhope.”

  Mrs. Winters dabbed the linen napkin to her mouth. “I don’t approve of this one bit,” she grumbled. “Proper women don’t call upon men at their homes this late in the evening. I really think I should be there with you.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mrs. Winters. I’m quite certain this woman has heard of the wedding and is here to offer congratulations.”

  “I’m sure you’re correct, but it’s just not done.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “Perhaps things are different here in New York.” She took one last sip of her red wine then pushed away from the table. Gracefully, she walked toward the drawing room, hoping to show a good first impression to her visitor. When she entered, she stopped and sucked in a breath. Instead of an older woman as she had thought Mrs. Westland would be, a young woman stood before Isabelle, dressed as fancy as a duke’s wife. Slightly older by no more than five years, Mrs. Westland was very lovely. The woman’s hair was just a bit darker than Isabelle’s, but naturally curly just the same.

  She wanted to hate her right away, but decided to give the woman a chance, mainly to see exactly why she was here at this late hour.

  Mrs. Westland curtsied, and Isabelle did also. As she stood, the other woman’s gaze slowly assessed Isabelle. That didn’t bother her, but it was the arched brow and smirk on the woman’s face she wanted to slap.

  “You must be the one I’ve heard so much about today.” Mrs. Westland flipped her fan out.
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  “I’m Miss Stanhope.”

  “I must say, you have taken the gossip circles by storm. I mean, when I heard Lockwood was to wed Commodore Stanhope’s daughter, I nearly swooned.”

  Isabelle shrugged. “Actually, the betrothal agreement has been in effect for over a year.”

  “Indeed?” Mrs. Westland turned and sashayed to the couch then sat daintily. “Lockwood has kept it a secret, which is why it’s such a surprise.”

  Isabelle walked to the chair and sat, not wanting to be any closer to the other lady than necessary.

  Mrs. Westland lifted her chin. “You are quite lovely, though.”

  “Thank you.” Isabelle fidgeted in her chair. “Are you and your husband acquainted with the viscount?”

  A slow smile stretched across the other woman’s face as she lowered her fan. “No, my husband died before I met Lockwood, unfortunately.”

  Isabelle’s blood chilled. By the bold, know-it-all expression on Mrs. Westland’s face, Isabelle could only come to one conclusion. And it wasn’t good. A fierce beat took over Isabelle’s heart, and bile rose in her throat. Why hadn’t she realized her soon-to-be husband had a mistress? Of course, he would. Handsome, wealthy men like the viscount always had a mistress. “So you and Viscount Lockwood are good friends?”

  The other woman arched her brow. “If that’s how you want to refer to it, yes.”

  “Ah, I see.” Isabelle took a deep breath, calming herself. Mrs. Winters had been right. This widow was a viper. No reason to get upset. So Lord Lockwood had a mistress. Isabelle had been in love with a highwayman. Did that make them even?