Her voice was faint, and he felt his stomach tighten. She was hurt. Fury swamped him. “By heaven, Vansittart, I am minded to dispose of you out of hand!”
The other man raised placatory hands. “Not so fast. I feel sure we can make our way through this.”
“Call off your tool. Send him away.”
For a moment, the fellow hesitated. Evidently feeling himself outfoxed, he capitulated, to Richard’s secret relief.
“Go, Jarvis.”
The footman was assisted on his way by the toe of the groom’s boot.
“Here, Reeve, take my pistol and cover his lordship. If he moves, shoot him.”
“It’d be a pleasure, my lord.”
The groom in his place, Richard went quickly to Isolde. She had struggled to a sitting position, but she had a hand to her head.
“Come.” With gentleness, Richard took her by the arms and helped her to stand. “Are you hurt?”
“Bruised, I think. A bit dazed.”
“We’ll have you comfortable in a trice. Let me deal with your uncle and we’ll be away.”
She nodded and he guided her with an arm about her shoulders, holding her close and steady against him. Together, they faced Vansittart.
“Pay close attention, my friend, and you will learn how this is going to go.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Isolde polished off the last slice of ham, took another swallow of coffee and sat back with a satisfied sigh. She found Richard watching her from across the table, a faint smile curling his mouth. She grinned. “I was starving.”
“Yes, so I gathered.”
His gaze did not waver and Isolde began to fidget, turning the coffee cup in her hands. A pitter-patter disturbed her heartbeat and she shifted her eyes about the tiny parlour, hardly taking in the dark wood panelling and the leaded window. In her mind’s eye, the events of the morning played out in snatches of unfocused memory.
Her uncle’s face, marred by a heavy frown, and words on his lips that made no sense. “A settlement? What sort of settlement?”
Then Richard’s dry tones. “I should have thought that was obvious.”
Lord Vansittart’s eyes had turned on her and Isolde remembered shrinking closer to Richard’s side as the mockery reappeared in her uncle’s voice.
“That scrap? Are you serious?”
“Perfectly.”
Her focus returned now to Richard’s face. “What settlement were you discussing with my uncle earlier?”
His gaze remained steady on hers. “I made a bargain with him.”
Apprehension warred with dawning fury. “You’re not letting him bleed you? You can’t, Richard! He’s a villain. Please don’t give him anything.”
His regard faltered for the first time, flitting away and back again. Isolde’s burgeoning anger gave way to puzzlement. She’d never seen him lose his assurance, but there was uncertainty, was there not?
“Richard?”
He visibly drew breath. “I am going to pay him a certain sum of money.” He held up a finger as Isolde opened her mouth to protest. “Not for his vile schemes. I told him I will not invest one penny to support slavery.”
“Slavery?”
“He has bought into a cotton plantation in America. He tried to engage my father’s interest in taking a share in this business. Only I found out he means to purchase slaves to work these cotton fields.”
Her fury revived. “I told you he is a villain. Don’t give him money, Richard. He’ll use it for that anyway.”
“No. My lawyer will ensure the settlement is tied. It won’t be a blank draft for him to do with as he wills.”
“But why pay him anything? He can’t use me now to force your hand.”
“Ah, but I have extracted a valuable exchange.”
Isolde stared at him, bewildered. “What? What could possibly be worth giving my horrid uncle anything at all?”
Again, Richard hesitated. He rose from the table and walked the short few paces to the mantel in the little room. There had barely been space for Isolde to squeeze into her seat. As she watched him, a sixth sense attacked her with a gust of shocked hope. He could not mean…
Her mind balked. Her breath caught and she could not speak. In mingled dread and anticipation, she saw him turn his head, an expression she did not recognise in his eyes. Only their intensity penetrated.
“You, Isolde. I get you.”
Her voice stuck in her throat and the wild thump of her heart sounded loud in her ears. Thoughts filtered into her clogged mind. She dared not give them house room. Too dangerous. If she were wrong, if she’d misunderstood…
There was no air in the room. Heat crept up from her toes, spreading through her veins, sending a wash of flame into her cheeks. From nowhere, she found words.
“But you don’t even like me.”
He threw back his head and let out a crack of a laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Now words tumbled, eager to come out. “You’ve been kind, but you know very well you never wanted the charge of me. And then Lady Alderton died and everything was horrid between us…”
Richard’s eyes were dark with feeling to which she could not put a name, but he did not move from where he stood. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. But not nearly as sorry as I am that I left you to Alicia’s vengeance. I had no idea of her state of mind. I am ashamed that you were subjected to such brutality, that you were treated in so inhuman a fashion in my house.”
Isolde’s heart sank. Was that why? Then she must have misunderstood him. He could only be thinking of making some sort of reparation. She found her tongue again.
“You will remain my guardian then? Is that what you mean? Why should you need to make an exchange with my uncle for that?”
He let go the mantel and took a step towards the table, a frown creasing his brow.
“It has some value. In return, he will acknowledge you in public, which will give you credit with Society and make your path easier. But I’m not going to remain your guardian, Isolde.”
Dismay flooded her, and she had to drop her eyes to hide the sudden rush of tears. She was aware of him watching her and struggled to find her voice. But what came out of her mouth was not at all what she’d meant to say. “I knew you didn’t want me.”
“Then you know nothing at all,” came the harsh response. “I want you more than I can describe.”
When the sense of this penetrated, she gasped with shock, looking up to find his eyes fixed upon hers. Then she was on her feet. “Richard, it won’t work. I’m all wrong. I was foisted on you. You need a — a proper lady.”
He moved. Her hand was seized and she stumbled out from behind the table. Next moment, strong arms held her. She could feel his heart pumping as hard as her own. She could not look away from the intense dark gaze boring down into hers.
“You are all the lady I need, Isolde. I think I felt it from the first moment of setting eyes on you. I fooled myself into believing it was not so, that what I felt for you was only sympathy. But when I saw you stand up so bravely to Vansittart, I could no longer deceive myself.”
She could not help it. The prick at her throat became a swelling and a sob burst out. His face changed.
“What is it? Am I wrong? I could have sworn — the way you looked at me… Isolde, don’t you want to marry me?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks and her voice came out a croak. “Yes. Oh yes, I do. So much!”
He dragged her tighter and his lips came down on hers. Isolde went weak, the featherlight touch a burn on her mouth.
A noise in the corridor made him release her, and she staggered on unruly knees. Uttering an oath, he moved swiftly to the door and turned the key in the lock. His smile was rueful as he returned to claim her and pull her back into his arms, where she settled with relief, glad of his strength in keeping her on her unsteady feet.
“The last thing we need is for a servant to see me kissing you while you are wearing that get-up.”
/> Isolde giggled. “We’ll start a shocking scandal.”
“Yes, just exactly what we need to avoid.”
His face came down. He was going to kiss her again. She closed her eyes, melting against him. The burn became a flame and her mind ceased to function, her veins running riot with feeling. When his mouth released hers, she opened them to find his dark eyes studying hers, looking from one to the other, a faint frown between his brows.
“I can’t make up my mind.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Your eyes. Are they green with gold flecks, or hazel with patches of green?”
“I have no notion.”
He sighed deeply. “Oh, Isolde, I’m so horribly in love with you.”
“Horribly?” Indignation rose in her breast and she tugged herself out of his arms. “There now, I told you I was all wrong.”
He made no attempt to recapture her, but his gaze roved her features, tenderness in his face. “No, you’re not. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, though indeed I did not understand it myself until today.”
“Richard, you’ve run mad.”
“Yes, but I don’t regret it for a moment.”
Agitation claimed her and she shifted away. “But you may.”
“Never.”
He made to seize her and she held her hands up to stop him.
“No, don’t. Please listen.”
He dropped back, a frown replacing the smile. “Go on.”
She drew a taut breath. “It’s all very well for you to say these things, but all I’ve learned is only on the surface. I’ll never really be a lady, you know I won’t. Besides, if you marry me, Alicia will have won. She thinks I’ve been scheming to ensnare you all this time, only I never dared — never supposed —”
“No, you didn’t. You are too much an innocent.”
“Not so innocent I did not realise I was falling in love with you, though I tried so hard to pretend otherwise. So quickly, Richard! How is it possible?”
“Don’t ask me. I’m as bemused as you, though I strongly suspect my mother guessed from the first where my inclination was leading me.”
“And mine, I think. But — I’m sorry to pain you, Richard, in saying this — but she’s gone. Your sister —”
“My darling girl, you need not give Alicia another thought.”
“She hates me. She’ll call me names and beat me. She’ll never let me marry you.”
Richard caught at her waving hands. “She’ll have no chance to stop it. I will procure a licence and we may be married before we go back, if you are willing.”
Isolde’s heart soared. “Willing? I’d marry you tomorrow if it was possible. But I’m under age, Richard!”
“That need not trouble us.”
“I won’t have you ask my horrid uncle for permission.”
He grinned as he drew her towards him. “No need. I’m your official guardian, remember? I have a letter to that effect. And I give myself full permission to marry you.”
She sighed with happiness and began to sink into his embrace when a horrid thought assailed her, and she pulled back. “But, Richard, no priest will marry us with me dressed like this. It would be too scandalous.”
His eyes were alight with laughter. “I’d give a great deal to try it, but you need not concern yourself. Becky packed your female attire. We’ll find a small unobtrusive inn somewhere on the road and smuggle you in to change.”
She could not help giggling. “That will be an adventure in itself.”
He caressed her face, smiling down at her. “I should have thought you’d had enough adventure to last you for some little time.”
In a bang, Isolde recalled the hideous events that had set her upon this journey, and the nagging apprehension revived. “Alicia —”
“Need never trouble you, my heart. I know what she did to you, for the servants told me. Becky was particularly informative.”
She eyed him in dismay, hating the notion that he knew what she had suffered. She would not willingly have told him all of it herself. “What did she tell you?”
“Everything.” He touched his finger to her cheek where she knew there were still remnants of her bruises. “My sister will never put a hand on you again, I promise you.”
“How can you be so sure? You won’t always be there to see it.”
His face changed and the dismaying look of which she’d once been the target was back. She drew a breath, relieved his undeniable anger was not this time directed at her.
“It is Alicia who will not be there. I’m going to send her to the Dower House. You will be the only mistress at Bawdsey Grange.”
The implication took a moment to penetrate, and shock put all thought of his fury with his sister out of her head. She stared at him aghast. “Richard, I can’t! I don’t know how.”
His brows drew together. “You look positively petrified, Isolde.”
“I am petrified!”
Richard’s expression changed abruptly and his laugh produced a touch of reassurance. Her fears began to abate.
“You need have no apprehension. Mrs Pennyfather won’t need your help, and she will teach you everything you need to know. As for the rest —”
Isolde pounced on this. “Yes, what of the rest, Richard? Who is going to make a lady of me?”
“I will. Enough of a lady to pass muster in public, at any rate.” His lips twitched, in the way she remembered from the first. “But for myself, I’ve conceived a violent dislike of proper ladies.”
She broke into laughter. “You’re making that up.”
He caught her face between his hands, and her breath tightened as a look she could not mistake crept into his eyes. His voice dropped to a murmur. “Your smile is like a sunbeam. I believe it captured my heart on the day we met.” Then he was smiling with her and her heart turned over. “And no, my precious Isolde, I’m not making it up. I am quite decided. I have no use for a proper lady. I need only the unique, indomitable little creature who was ready to fight for me against all odds.”
Isolde heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction, allowed herself to be drawn back into his welcoming arms and, hazy with the effect of his kiss, resolved with considerable relief to abandon her futile attempts to master the intricacies of ladylike behaviour.
***
Want to continue the journey through Regency England? Read A Chance Gone By — Book Two in the Brides By Chance Regency Adventure series.
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A NOTE TO THE READER
Dear Reader,
In this world where women juggle careers and motherhood, rule countries or police forces and play professional football, it is hard for us to imagine how restrictive life was for the Regency female.
Difficult enough if you were born to domestic servitude or some other menial labouring capacity. Tricky if you rose to the middle classes where at once a woman’s choices of workplace became fewer. In many ways, however, the least enviable strata was that of genteel poverty.
A female of gentle birth relied wholly on her menfolk for support. To have any security at all, her first object must be marriage. What happened to those who failed to find a husband? A dowerless female, for example. Women were expected to bring something concrete to the marriage in terms of finance or property. If you were lucky, your father or brother had the means to keep you in relative comfort all your life, although you could expect to be palmed off on a sibling for the purpose of helping to take care of the children.
Not all Regency females had this advantage. Orphans and poor relations might hope for succour from their wider family. Assuming willingness on the part of said family. What if you had no one and were obliged to earn your living? There were only two acceptable professions: governess or schoolteacher and companion. Anything else took you so far outside your social sphere that there was no way back. Any form of trad
e was unthinkable.
The plight of such women has always intrigued me. Romance allows me to pluck them from their humdrum existence and alter their destiny to encompass love and happiness, just as with the fairy tale Cinderella. Such are the heroines of my Brides by Chance series. Like Isolde, they begin without hope of a happy ending and, through accident, adventure or sheer luck, their life is forever changed. Of course I plunge them into heartache first! Love has to come with a cost, no?
I hope you have enjoyed Isolde’s story and it has inspired you to look out for more tales of my brides by chance.
If you would consider leaving a review, it would be much appreciated and very helpful. Do feel free to contact me on [email protected] or find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or my website www.elizabethbailey.co.uk.
Elizabeth Bailey
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Brides by Chance Regency Adventures Series
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In Honour Bound (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 1) Page 16