She smiled brightly. “Monkey. This is such a surprise.”
When he stopped in front of her, his arms wound around her waist in a big hug. “I never thought I’d see ya again, Miss Stanhope.”
A chuckle bubbled from her throat. “I’m married now, Monkey. I’m Lady Lockwood.”
He pulled away, his eyes wide as his mouth pulled into an ‘O’. “Yer a lady now?”
She didn’t want to remind him that she’d always been a lady even if Hawk had tried to change that fact. “Yes, I married a lord.”
The man with Monkey finally stopped behind him. He wasn’t dressed like anyone on Hawk’s ship, but he wasn’t dressed as a gentleman, either. More like a farmer. Still, there was something familiar about him. His gaze swept over her in an indecent manner, causing disgust to run rapid through her. She shivered.
“Greetings, my lady.”
The man grinned and mocked a bow. When he raised and met her stare, his eyes darkened with desire. She had seen that before while being held as Hawk’s prisoner. She would bet money this man was Simon—the same crew member Hawk had scolded for touching her that day in his cabin.
“Good day,” she answered in a leery tone then looked at Monkey. “What are you about this fine day?”
“Me and Simon were just shoppin’, and I happens to see ya walk by. I couldn’t believe me eyes. Yer a grand lookin’ lady now.”
“Thank you, Monkey. I appreciate the compliment.” She glanced back at Simon. Bile rose to her throat. Hawk wasn’t here to protect her this time. Neither was her husband. It wasn’t safe to be in Simon’s presence.
A movement from the front of the coach caught her attention. Her driver glared at Simon, looking as if he would pounce on the highwayman at any moment. Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone would be here to help.
“Monkey, it’s been so nice talking to you, but I had better return home.” She squeezed his hand. “I hope to see you in town again.”
“Oh, me too, Miss Stanhope… uh, I mean Lady Lockwood.”
The driver stepped to her and offered his hand. She took it as he assisted her inside the vehicle. After the door closed, she peeked out the window at the odd pair. Simon couldn’t be trusted. There was just a look about him that told her to be wary. Monkey on the other hand was loveable and entertaining. Too bad she couldn’t find a good home for him. He needed a Mother.
Simon’s eyes met hers through the window and he gave her a knowing look. Why did he have to be so menacing? He wasn’t a highwayman now. Perhaps he wanted to threaten her with his piercing gaze. She could report him as a thief and he would be hanged. Strange how she never thought of this before. But no. She couldn’t do it. Hawk wasn’t as fearsome as his reputation led her to believe in the beginning. She’d gotten to know him, and he did have a heart, even if he didn’t know what was good for him.
Releasing a deep sigh, she leaned back against the seat. What was she going to do about her life? If her husband wanted to carry on with Mrs. Westland, there wasn’t anything Isabelle could do to stop it. Was something wrong with her? Two men had broken her heart in only a few weeks’ time. She was destined for a lonely life.
She should socialize more and make new friends. Then she would have a woman to confide in. Isabelle assumed Mrs. Winters had returned to England since her older companion hadn’t visited her, and it was time she quit moping over her rotten love life.
It didn’t take long before she arrived home, and the driver carried her packages inside. “Please place them in the drawing room for now and I’ll have my maid put them away.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She pulled off her gloves then took out the pins holding her bonnet on her head. The house seemed too quiet, and her curious nature took over. Once she placed her bonnet on the tabletop covering her gloves, she took slow steps out into the hallway. Gentry walked by and she stopped him.
“Have you seen my husband?”
“He is in his study, my lady.”
“Thank you, Gentry.”
He bowed and left. She walked down the hall toward Marcus’ study, where surprisingly he spent a lot of his time. Voices carried from behind the closed door the closer she came. Slowing her steps, she strained to listen to what was being said. Her husband’s voice she recognized, but not the other. She stopped at the door and pressed her ear against the thick oak.
At first, the only words she could decipher spoke of something that would happen tonight, and the men seemed happy about it by the joyful tone of their voices. Then a name jumped out at her, and she sucked in a quick breath.
Mrs. Westland.
Groaning, she massaged her throbbing forehead. She didn’t need to hear any more. Her husband would meet the woman tonight. And early. Good grief, she even heard the very place where the liaison would take place—Donnelley’s old estate, just down the street from Meadowbrook Lane.
With a heavy heart, she turned and walked back up the hallway with sluggish feet. Tears pricked her eyes. If only she knew why men couldn’t love her as she wanted. What was she doing wrong?
She trudged toward the drawing room to collect her packages instead of fetching her maid first. Retiring to her room for the remainder of the evening sounded pleasing, not wanting anything but to wallow in self-pity and heartbreak. Food didn’t sound exciting, and spending time with her husband was out of the question.
Men’s voices carried from down the hall, growing louder. Their meeting must be over. She scowled. Too bad they couldn’t wait until she was safely behind her bedroom door before they concluded. Now she doubted she could hide from Marcus.
Her husband strode beside Mr. Lawrence toward the door, but must have seen her from the corner of his eye, because he quickly turned and came into the drawing room. His smile widened, and the gleam in his eyes darkened.
“Good afternoon, my lovely wife.” He stopped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. “I missed you today,” he whispered as he brushed his mouth against her neck.
Shivers of delight ran amuck through her body, and she cursed her weakness. Why hadn’t she picked up those packages first? With her arms full, Marcus wouldn’t have been able to do this. She should hate him, or at the very least, refuse to allow him such privileges, but once her body pressed against his, warm tingles cascaded all over her. She fought for control, but was losing fast.
“Did…” She swallowed hard. “Did you have a pleasant day?”
A deep chuckle rumbled through his body as he kissed her neck. “Not really. I thought of you the whole time and I wanted to be home and in your arms.”
She wanted to scream at him, to call him a liar. Instead, all she could think about was how she burned for his caress and sweet words. “I’m sorry your thoughts kept you otherwise occupied.”
He growled and moved his hands down her back. “You have no idea, my love.”
She gripped his shoulders, wanting to push him away. Her limbs refused to listen to her silent pleas for help. Instead, her body leaned against his.
He lifted his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Sighing in defeat, she linked her arms around his neck. A groan escaped his throat as his arms tightened around her, intensifying the kiss. Her heart soared, just as it had done last night, and emotion rose to the tip of her tongue, wanting to confess her feelings. His large, tender hands roamed aimlessly over her back as he pulled her even closer against his body, which elicited a deeper sigh from her.
Her heart melted—as well as her limbs—and if he suggested taking this most intimate moment up to their bedroom, she’d gladly concur. When he slowed the kiss to mere pecks, she anticipated the invitation that was forthcoming.
Breaking the kiss, he then leaned his forehead against hers. “Oh, my darling wife. I cannot tell you how kissing you like that thrills me to my very soul.” He kissed her lips again, but briefly. “I just cannot get enough.”
“I feel the same,” she answered breathlessly.
“But as much as I’d love to do nothing more than kiss you the end of time, I have to leave soon.”
Her dazed head swam with confusion. Had she heard him correctly? That didn’t sound anything like an invitation to take this upstairs… “What?”
“Darling, I have a meeting tonight, but I shan’t be long. When I return, we shall continue this in my bed chamber, I assure you.”
With mention of the meeting, she immediately snapped to attention. He was going to meet his mistress tonight. Sadness crumbled in her chest and she fought back the tears stinging her eyes. Why did he want to go to his mistress right after the kiss he’d just given her? Nothing made sense anymore.
“I understand,” she whispered, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack.
He pulled away and cupped her face. “I’ll see you tonight.” He kissed her lips, then left her side.
Loneliness consumed her nearly as much as the anger rushing through her. She couldn’t allow him to treat her in such a way. The man must be stopped.
She glared at the doorway he’d just walked out, her mind piecing together what she’d do. Lifting her chin, she took a deep breath, gaining control once again. She would follow him and make him aware of her knowledge. If she wanted to be treated like a doormat, she would have stayed with Hawk.
Chapter Twenty-One
Isabelle paced in her room, flexing her hands against her side, anticipating the time her husband would leave for his meeting. If he waited much longer, she would go insane.
Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor. She rushed to her door and pressed her ear against the wood. Marcus’ footsteps moved past her room and descended the stairs. Relieved the time had finally arrived, she quickly slipped out of her wrapper and pulled on the boys’ clothes her maid had fetched for her earlier this evening. Thankfully, her maid found large black breeches, shirt and overcoat to hide Isabelle’s womanly figure. She stuffed her long hair into a brown cap before leaving her room and sneaking down the servant’s stairs. When she reached outside without being spotted by her husband’s staff, she breathed easier.
She hurried to the stable and saddled a horse. By the time she rode away from the estate, her heart thumped faster than the horse’s gallop. Fear rested in her chest, but determination kept her going. She wouldn’t cower from her problem and would meet the challenges ahead of her with courage. Even if it meant her marriage would soon be over. Not another night would pass before she confronted her wayward husband. Her heart couldn’t take it.
If her maid hadn’t given her the directions to Meadowbrook Lane, Isabelle wouldn’t have a clue how to get there. She was too far away from her husband to trail him properly, and a light fog had covered the town, making it harder to see her way.
As she searched for the Donnelley’s old estate, she almost missed it. No lights lit the abandoned house, except for a glimmer out back in the stables. She pulled her horse to a stop and slid down. Trying to be as quiet as she could, she tied her mare to a tree and crept closer to the stables. From within, men’s voices rumbled low, and her curiosity grew. Perhaps she’d come to the wrong house.
Tiptoeing around the side of the structure, she found a window. Slowly, she peeked inside. The light from a small lantern flickered across ten men standing near the stalls. Her husband stood out; a head taller than the others. No woman attended this gathering.
Isabelle rubbed her forehead. This couldn’t be right. She’d heard her husband talk about visiting Mrs. Westland. So where was the young widow so desperate to sink her claws into Marcus?
The topic the men discussed was in hushed tones, and she couldn’t hear a thing. Being quiet, she sneaked around the structure to the window closer to her husband. A small crack in the glass helped her to hear what they talked about. So far Marcus remained quiet as the other men voiced their opinions.
“King George loathes us, I tell you. And the retched man is constantly devising ways of torturing hard-working men like ourselves.” A portly gentleman’s face reddened as he clenched his fists by his side. “Newly appointed Charles Townshend, Chancellor of the Exchequer, doesn’t care about our needs. He’s too busy kissing the King’s silk bottom to think about how the taxes are affecting the colonists.”
The other men agreed with loud grumbles and nods.
“At least we can be happy the man isn’t in our midst, watching every move we make.”
“Aye,” another man said. “It’s bad in Philadelphia as well. My brother lives there, and they cannot move without one of the King’s soldiers watching them.”
A small, reed-thin man stepped closer and cleared his throat. “We need to find more patriots who want to fight for our cause. The little group we have now cannot keep the soldiers away.” He shrugged. “Even though we’ll receive the shipment of guns soon, if we don’t have more men, we’re worthless.”
Isabelle gasped and jumped back, stumbling over a broken tree branch on her way. She caught herself before hitting the ground, but twisted her ankle. The throb in her foot wasn’t anything like the throb in her forehead. She’d heard enough already. These men were going to raise an army against the King’s soldiers.
Impossible! She couldn’t have heard correctly, but the fierce beating in her skull let her know she had.
Her heartbeat pounded, shaking her chest considerably as she breathed slowly. How many men would they have to gather before this happens? Her husband couldn’t possibly be involved. Why, he’s a titled gentleman. Yet, these men here tonight seemed to trust Lord Lockwood or else they wouldn’t have allowed him to come to their meeting.
She sucked in a quick breath. Marcus is a traitor. Men were hanged for being a traitor. If she didn’t talk him out of this nonsense, he’d be next. Although he kept a secret mistress, Isabelle didn’t wish him dead.
As she regained her composure and thought about what the men had said just now, everything made sense. She had observed people in New York and could see why they were upset about the taxes. Did King George know what hardships these people suffered across the sea because of his insane taxation? Not only that, they couldn’t live their religion the way they wanted and were persecuted if they protested. Even though she loved her mother country, she disagreed with how the King handled things over here.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the window, hoping to hear more. Behind her, a twig snapped and leaves crunched mere seconds before hands clamped down hard on each shoulder. Roughly, her attacker jerked her around.
“Who are you and why are you spying?” he snapped.
Through the night’s haze, she recognized the outline of the man’s face and the deep timbre of his voice. She wanted to sigh in relief that she’d been caught by Marcus, yet at the same time she didn’t want him to know why she was here.
His gaze narrowed on her before reaching up and knocking the hat from her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in waves. He released her as if she was hot coals.
“Isabelle?”
Sheepishly, she shrugged. “Yes, it is I.”
“But… how?” He mumbled a curse and bunched his hands into fists. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I heard something out by the window. I thought it was an animal. Never suspected it would be my wife.” He coked his head. “So, what are you doing here?”
She couldn’t very well hide the truth from him now. “Following you, my dear husband.”
“Whatever for?”
“To see what mischief you were involved with.”
He shook his head. “I beg of you to make sense. You are confusing me.”
She huffed and folded her arms. “I thought you were secretly meeting your mistress.”
From within the stable, the men’s voices grew louder. He cursed and grabbed her arm, pulling Isabelle away from the structure.
“Keep quiet, and maybe you won’t be discovered.”
“But, why—”
His hand covered her
mouth as he pulled her against his body. “For once, do as I say.”
She wanted to slap his face, stomp on his foot, or anything to unleash her temper. For once? When had she ever disobeyed her husband? Instead of going with her first instinct, she remained quite as he pulled them farther into the wooded grove behind the stables. Each time she put pressure on her twisted ankle, it throbbed a little harder. Still, she kept beside him and didn’t make a noise.
Because of the fog, she couldn’t see the men from the meeting, but their voices grew dim and were accompanied by the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. Isabelle breathed a little easier, and Marcus’ body relaxed, too.
Up this close, she could see he’d donned his white wig and flashy clothes for tonight’s occasion. She had no idea why his attire bothered her. Maybe it was because she’d seen him in different clothes—clothes that made him more rugged and handsome. His scent of spice and leather enveloped her, making her want to close her eyes and breathe deeply as she snuggled closer. However, before she could follow her instincts, he dropped his hands and pulled away. Reality came back as loneliness consumed her chest. She would confront his secret affair and tell him she never wanted to be intimate with him again.
“Now Isabelle,” he said slowly, folding his arms across his chest, “would you kindly explain to me why you followed me?”
She nodded. “As I’d mentioned, I followed you to catch you and your mistress together.”
He cocked his head and arched his eyebrow. “My mistress? And who might that be?”
“Oh, for the love of God.” She growled. “I wish you’d stop playing these mindless games with me. I’m not a fool, Marcus, neither am I blind. I saw you and Mrs. Westland together earlier today by the docks. Not only that, I heard you and your valet talking in your study. I heard you mention her name and about meeting her tonight.”
His eyes widened, but guilt wasn’t the expression flitting across his face. Panic settled in her chest. Had she heard wrong when she’d eavesdropped?
Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) Page 23