Dangerous Passions

by Leigh Anderson

  “Very well,” she said. “I will try to soften my aunt’s heart toward me.”

  That evening, as Isoline and Bellamira were finishing dinner, Isoline invited her aunt to a game of cards instead of retiring to their separate rooms.

  “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to spend your evening with a boring old woman like me,” Bellamira said.

  “But I do,” Isoline said. “It is not only the reason I’m here, to spend time with you, but I enjoy it.”

  Bellamira sat back in her chair for a moment, as if pondering Isoline’s words.

  “Besides,” Isoline said with a smile, “who else am I going to spend the evening with?”

  “Isoline,” her aunt said with a sigh, “I do not wish for you to be lonely—”

  “Oh, aunt,” Isoline interrupted. “I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t blaming you—”

  Bellamira held up her hand to stop Isoline’s prattling. “I know how you meant it, dear. But I feel I must explain. I have lived here for many, many years. And for most of those years I have been blessed to not have a husband. As such, I have had the freedom to…to become the person I wish to be, not the one I was expected to be. How I look, how I act, what I believe, whom I associate with. It is all a carefully crafted identity. It is why I despise gossip. That those thoughtless chittering birds in town should have a say in how I am perceived. Well, it rattles me to no end.”

  Isoline nodded as she took her aunt’s words in. “I’m so sorry for any role I played in causing you embarrassment,” she said.

  “I know,” Bellamira said. “And I know that life here—in the country, in a different county, in my house—is all very different from the life you knew before. I just haven’t had to…to train someone in how to behave in…well in ever. I didn’t raise children up to be good little lords and ladies. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to teach you how to act.”

  “Hopefully I don’t need too much training,” Isoline said with a chuckle. “I did have a governess after all. And a mother.”

  Bellamira laughed as well. “No, it’s not you, my dear. It’s me. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what to do with you. I’ve never had a companion before. Much less an h…a niece.”

  Isoline nodded congenially and did her best to ignore the fact that Bellamira nearly called her an heir.

  “Well, aunt,” Isoline said. “I will do my best to be more patient with you if you will be more patient with me.”

  Bellamira nodded. “It’s a deal.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Now this young lady,” Bellamira said as she and Isoline stood before a painting of a woman with dark red hair in clothes from perhaps the reign of King James I, “was the wife of the second son of the second Earl of Payne. I believe she was of Scottish descent. I remember one of my husband’s aunts saying that she had a name that sounded Scottish anyway. Emelia? Fenelia? Something like that.”

  Isoline nodded as she wrote a description of the painting and anything Bellamira could remember about the woman in her notebook. Isoline and Bellamira had been spending more time together and decided they needed something to occupy their time besides playing cards. Bellamira remarked that she had noticed that Isoline had not been spending as much time with the paintings as she had thought she would. Isoline admitted this was true and told her that she found the large house, empty rooms, and endless stacks of art rather daunting on her own. So every day, Bellamira came downstairs and joined Isoline for breakfast. Then they spent a couple of hours admiring and cataloging the thousands of paintings stored in the house. After luncheon, Bellamira would return to her room for a rest, and Isoline would go for a walk, which would inevitably lead her to Auberon’s cottage where she would sit for his portrait between stolen kisses.

  The next painting was a completely different style from the rest. It showed a woman with dark skin and free-flowing black hair dancing, waving her four arms, kicking one of her feet. She was wearing a short golden skirt and layers of gold bracelets and necklaces. She was standing before a blue background but was surrounded by a golden halo. Two of her hands were partly closed, with two of the fingers touching the thumbs. But in the hands that were open, there were large green eyes.

  “This is fascinating,” Isoline said. “Where is it from? Who is she?”

  Bellamira stared at the painting for a moment, as though trying to remember. Isoline had noticed that Bellamira seemed to take longer to recall information as the days had passed, and she wondered if having to remember so much information was causing her to become overtired. She thought maybe she should suggest they take a few days off from their cataloging and rest.

  “Hindustan,” Bellamira finally said. “It’s from Hindustan. I can’t remember her name, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. One of their pagan goddesses.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Isoline said. “I wonder what she was the goddess of.”

  “The night,” Bellamira said. “See the yellow shining around her? That’s moonlight. And the eyes in her hands. Those represent dreams, the things we see while sleeping.”

  “Dreams?” Isoline asked a bit too quickly. “She a goddess of dreams?”

  “Dreaming, sleeping, night owls, stars,” Bellamira said. “Things to do with the night.”

  “Fascinating,” Isoline said, admiring the painting even more now. She started a new page in her book just for the description of this painting. “I shall put a star by this one. Mark it among my favorites.”

  “Hmm,” Bellamira said as she pressed her lips into a thin line. “You do have quite a preoccupation with dreams.”

  “I don’t hide it or deny it,” Isoline said. “I’ve always been fascinated by dreams.”

  “You should be careful, my dear,” Bellamira said, “not to spend too much energy dreaming. The world is…an unkind place for women. Time spent dreaming is often time wasted.”

  “What do you mean?” Isoline asked, looking up from her book.

  “Young women dream of the perfect life, the perfect husband, the perfect home,” Bellamira said, shaking her head as she left the room. “But life is not a dream. Dreams rarely come true. We must follow our duty, what is expected of us. Leave the dreaming behind.”

  Isoline was confused. Was she not doing her duty by being here with her aunt? “I harbor no dreams for myself,” Isoline said, though she lacked conviction as she spoke. “I am content where I am.”

  “But your father might not be,” Bellamira said.

  “My father?” Isoline asked, suddenly concerned. “I have not had so much as a letter from him since my arrival.”

  “Well, he has written to me,” Bellamira said as they walked up the stairs toward her room. “Of course, his words were all pleasantries. But I could see through them. He wants to know if you have met any eligible young men or if I had any other thoughts of your future.”

  “What did you tell him?” Isoline asked anxiously.

  “Nothing yet,” Bellamira replied. “You were supposed to be my companion. Why would I be trying to find you a husband?”

  Isoline sighed. For a moment, she had been afraid that Bellamira had seen through her father’s not-so subtle attempt to ask if she had considered naming Isoline as her heir. But it seemed as though the thought had not crossed Bellamira’s mind.

  “I am sure my father is just concerned for my well-being, as any father would be,” Isoline said. “But you needn’t worry. I’m perfectly happy with how things are right now.”

  “I hope so,” Bellamira said. “I enjoy your company, Isoline. And I’m not of a mind to change a thing.”

  With that, she retired to her rooms for the afternoon, shutting her door.

  Isoline was left alone in the hallway to ponder over her aunt’s words. She was glad her aunt seemed happy to have her as a companion, but what did she mean when she said she wouldn’t change a thing. Of course, her immediate thought was that Bellamira was not interested in changing her will. Isoline felt guilty for having such a thought, but what else could she h
ave been referring to? Why didn’t she want to name Isoline as heir? Had Isoline displeased her in some way? She didn’t think so. She at least hoped not. Did she know about her daily visits to see Auberon? It was very possible. They weren’t hiding, but were clearly out in the open. But if her aunt disapproved, why had she not said anything? Surely if she thought Isoline was acting inappropriately, she would put a stop to it. The old woman was nothing if not both vocal and proper.

  Isoline sighed in frustration and then retired to her own room to retrieve her walking boots. There was nothing she could do for the moment but wait for her aunt to speak more plainly if she was displeased. Until then, Isoline saw no reason to change her daily routine, and the thought of seeing Auberon was too delicious for her ignore.

  That afternoon, as Isoline was preparing for her walk to see Auberon, the footman James knocked on her door, announcing that Tristan was in the parlor, waiting to see her.

  “Did he say what he wants?” Isoline asked.

  “The young lord is not of a mind to announce his intentions to a servant, miss,” James bluntly replied.

  Isoline stared at him for a moment, surprised by his candor. She looked to Bess, who had been helping her dress, but the frown on Bess’s face seemed to convey a disapproval of Tristan, not James. Of course, the last time Tristan had been at the house, Aunt Bellamira had been none too polite about having him dismissed. She would not be surprised if the servants felt the freedom to speak their mind regarding him now.

  “I know his treatment of me during his last visit was disdainful,” Isoline said. “But he is still our kin, so it is our duty to show him every respect.”

  “Such gentility shows why you are the lady here, miss,” Bess said with a genuine smile as she handed Isoline her wrap.

  “I’m no more a lady than you,” Isoline said as they walked down the gallery to the main staircase. “Such titles are truly meaningless to me. But I suppose we should go and see what my...cousin wishes to say this time.”

  “Do you not believe he is your cousin, miss?” Bess asked. “You always seem pained to refer to him that way.”

  “I have technically been acquainted with Tristan longer than I have my aunt,” Isoline said, recalling how he saved her from the fire and carried her home through the driving rain. “Yet he has never felt like family to me. I suppose it is because from the moment we met, his desire to make me his wife has been clearly on his sleeve. I have simply never been comfortable in his presence.”

  “Do you wish me to accompany you, miss?” Bess asked as she and James accompanied Isoline to the parlor. “I can, if you are concerned about being alone with him.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid of him,” Isoline said. “I did not mean to undermine his character in such a way. And he did save my life. But while I once wished to see him as a dear family member, I now hold him as no more than a very, very distant relation.”

  “Well, if you do require anything,” James said as he opened the door to the parlor, “simply pull the cord.”

  Isoline smiled to herself at how protective the staff were of her “I will, James. Bess,” she said. “Thank you.”

  When she walked into the parlor, she was surprised to see Tristan standing by the fireplace, smoking a cigarette.

  “I believe grand-auntie prefers all smoking to be restrained to the smoking room,” she said. “It damages the art.” Indeed, the only room in the house with less than half a dozen paintings was the smoking room, and Bellamira had confided to Isoline that the pieces were so cheaply procured, the frames were worth more.

  Tristan took one last long draw on the cigarette and then tossed it into the fireplace. “Don’t be a nag, cousin,” he said. “It doesn’t become you.”

  Isoline pressed her lips to stifle a retort. He was clearly not in a mood for witty banter. “To what do I owe this visit?” she asked.

  “I heard about you,” he said accusingly. “How you called off your engagement to Lord Crowden.”

  Isoline tilted her head to one side and waited. She was sure he already knew of it. It would be easy enough for anyone to know if they did any research on her. The breaking of the engagement had indeed been reported in every society page from London to York and beyond.

  “Kind of funny,” he said without an ounce of humor. “The day you dump a baron you end up as companion to a duchess.”

  “It was not the same day—” Isoline started to explain, but Tristan cut her off.

  “Found a bigger fish to fry, did you?” he asked. “I bet you thought you could end up with a much larger purse playing cards with an elderly relation than by giving it all up to some minor lord.”

  “How dare you,” Isoline gasped, truly shocked at his vulgarity. She then noticed that his hair was mussed and his shirt crumpled. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. “Have you been drinking?” she asked.

  “Only for a few hours,” he said. Isoline rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Oh, don’t you dare act so high and mighty with me,” he continued. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part. Not only did you leave a lord at the alter, but you’ve been quite free with your virtue to that worthless painter.”

  Without thinking, Isoline’s hand flew, smacking him across the face. He reached up and held his cheek while Isoline gasped. She immediately knew she shouldn’t have done it, but she forced aside her guilt.

  “I’ll not allow any man to speak so of me,” she said firmly. “Family or not!”

  Tristan rubbed his cheek, then straightened his jacket. “You have brought so much shame to this family, should our aunt hear of it, she would most certainty turn you out.”

  “I have never hidden anything from her,” Isoline said, her chin held high. She recalled how Bellamira actually said she had been proud of Isoline calling off her engagement. “She knows all about Lord Crowden.”

  “But does she know of your daily, unchaperoned visits to Dracoia’s cottage?” he asked.

  Isoline did not respond because she didn’t know what her aunt knew of her outings. It was true that she had not spoken directly to her aunt about her visits to see Auberon, but she had not attempted to conceal them either. Every day, the staff saw her leave, she passed many of the estate’s tenants, and she and Auberon worked on her portrait outside where anyone could see them. She was not surprised her visits had become known to Tristan since she had done nothing to hide them. In fact, she would only be surprised if her aunt didn’t know about her visits to Auberon’s cottage.

  “That’s what I thought,” Tristan said, misinterpreting her silence. “She’ll be furious when she finds out. You know how precious her reputation is to her.”

  Isoline felt her heart drop a little at that. She recalled how quickly Bellamira had turned on her when she received that newspaper clipping. Even if Bellamira did allow Isoline to occasionally associate with Auberon or speak with him about a frame or piece of art, would she approve of such regular contact? If she was truly honest with herself, she knew that she had been acting inappropriately. No guardian would ever allow a young, unmarried woman to carry on with a man the way she had.

  She supposed it was possible that Bellamira had no idea about Isoline’s visits to Auberon’s cottage. Bellamira never left the house, never had visitors, and didn’t read the society pages. Isoline knew the staff adored and protected her. It was possible they had kept the old woman in the dark about Isoline’s activities.

  “And you are planning to enlighten her?” Isoline asked, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

  He stepped up her quickly, grabbing her hand so tightly she was unable to pull away. “Not if you do the right thing,” he said as he brought her hand to his mouth and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist.

  “And what is that?” she asked as she struggled to pull away, though she already knew the answer.

  “Marry me, cousin,” he said, and she felt the bile rise in her mouth at his words. He held her firmly against him and tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away.<
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  “Never!” she said, pushing him as hard as she could, but managing to move him little.

  “But, Isoline,” he panted as he groped her body and slobbered on her cheek. “We could have it all. We could have everything.”

  “I don’t want anything,” she said as she stomped on his foot.

  He gasped in pain, loosening his grip slightly, but as she twisted to pull away, he grabbed both of her arms and turned her to face him.

  “You ungrateful bitch,” he spat at her. He then used his foot to knock her off balance, forcing her to the floor.

  “No! Stop!” she cried, but he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. Pull the cord. Just pull the cord! she thought to herself, but she couldn’t even yell for help, much less pull the bell cord to get anyone’s attention.

  Tristan then pinned her arms together with one hand and pawed at her skirts with the other. “Don’t worry, darling,” he said. “After I have had you, you’ll have to marry me, and then everything will be perfect, just as it was meant to be.”

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to get away. But she could do none of those things. She was fighting as best she could, but it was not enough. He was much too strong for her, and she was having trouble breathing with the handkerchief in her mouth. She felt herself starting to black out. There was only one person who could help her now.

  Where are you? she called to the man in her dreams even though she was still awake. Help me. Don’t let him do this.

  She heard her dress rip, and she whimpered. She would never marry Tristan. If he succeeded in violating her, she would rather die than be forced to live with him as husband and wife. She tried to distract herself by imagining how she would do it. Toss herself from the top of Thornrush Manor, perhaps. Drown herself in a nearby stream like a girl in a novel? However it happened, she only hoped that she would then find herself in a perpetual dream with him, never to wake again.