The Gentleman's Daughter

by Bianca M. Schwarz

  Henry’s voice was hoarse with his own unshed tears. “I’m so sorry for what you had to endure. He treated you abominably, there is just no excuse, and I’m sorry for every time I made you feel uncomfortable, especially the kiss earlier.” He pulled her up from the windowsill and turned her toward him so he could see her eyes better, his hand still holding the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “But I can’t believe you are frigid, Isabella.”

  Now that he said the word back to her, Isabella couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, and her face flamed scarlet.

  But Henry continued. “There is passion in you, I see it every time you paint, and I have felt it every time I’ve touched you. That kiss this morning: you responded before you knew it wasn’t just a dream. Then here, when I pulled you into my arms and you knew it was me, you calmed at my touch—you responded to it.” Henry paused, unsure of whether to name the evil that had been visited upon her. But he had to make her see her attacker was at fault, not her body, so he continued. “You’re not frigid, you were raped.”

  Isabella drew in a sharp breath and looked up in confusion. How could George have raped her? She had known him all her life. Rape was something that happened to women during war. But Henry held her gaze and nodded slowly. “That is the correct word for what he did to you, my love. The first time, he took advantage of you, which is unforgivable in and of itself. But the second time, he forced himself on you despite you telling him you didn’t want to, and that is rape. No woman enjoys being taken against her will—that always causes pain. When a woman is willing and relaxed, it’s entirely different.”

  Isabella looked at him in disbelief, but there was also a glimmer of hope. It was strange to have a word for what George had done to her. Rape. It kept echoing in her head. An ugly word, but it would explain her lack of responsiveness. But then, hope was dangerous. Hope led to disappointment. And yet …

  Henry could see the internal war between what she believed to be true of herself and the hope that he might be right. She needed time. All he could think of doing for her at this moment was to lead her down to dinner, so he took her hand to thread through his arm, but she held him back, a question in her eyes.

  “He robbed me of my first kiss. It should have been tender and imbued with innocence and it should have gone no further than a kiss.” She held his gaze and took a deep breath. “Would you give me such a kiss?”

  Henry’s heart jumped in his chest. If she allowed him to express the tenderness he felt for her with a kiss, perhaps there was hope for them after all.

  ISABELLA SEARCHED HIS EYES, TEETERING between hope and mortification. How could she have asked such a thing of him? But oh, to have his kiss! Just one, consciously and with the promise it would be just that, a kiss for her to enjoy. A memory to treasure. A chance to know she could reclaim that much of what was stolen from her.

  Henry’s eyes were full of love and concern as he nodded solemnly, then smiled the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. “True love’s first kiss.”

  She answered his smile and stepped back into his arms, but he didn’t embrace her. Instead he stood very close and used his fingers to trace tantalizing little circles around both sides of her face. Lowering his gaze from her eyes to her lips, he focused on the one part of her he was about to love with all his physical being.

  Isabella closed her eyes when he touched his nose to hers and let his breath caress her lips before they made contact. He slowly and ever so tenderly brushed his lips against hers in the lightest of kisses, then withdrew an inch. Her mouth followed his to taste his kiss again, and he repeated the light brush a few times till she kissed him back. Then he embarked on a more prolonged sweep against her lips from one corner of her lovely, wide mouth to the other and back. Her responses were halting and unsure, but there was nothing clumsy about them. Henry let himself sink into the experience and deepened the kiss.

  Isabella didn’t know what to do with the feelings flooding her as Henry’s fingers moved from tracing circles at the side of her face to threading into her hair and holding her gently in place to receive his kiss. His lips brushed more firmly now; they nibbled and sucked too, but he didn’t use his tongue like George had. His kiss was all about giving himself to her, not demanding anything in return. It was a beautiful kiss. A kiss that made her want to melt into him with the sheer pleasure of it. And when he finally lifted his lips from hers and rested his forehead against her brow, she felt bereft at the loss of them. Henry had gifted her with a kiss more wonderful than even her most daring teenage dreams had conjured.

  He saw the transfixed expression on Isabella’s face and smiled. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

  She blushed a lovely shade of pink and took his arm to go downstairs for dinner.

  BOTH THE DOWAGER AND LADY Kistel declined dinner, but ordered Emily’s to be brought to their rooms once they were ready. One on each side, they led Emily upstairs for a hefty dose of fussing and scolding. Emily followed with the air of one being led to the gallows, but just before she reached the stairs, she turned and winked at her father and Isabella. Henry laughed, and Isabella, sitting gingerly on her seat, remarked, “She seems to take the events of today in stride. I only hope she doesn’t suffer any ill effects later from the attack.”

  Henry reached across the table and caressed her hand, uncaring of who saw them. “I think you took the brunt of the attack. That swine scared her, but she seems more angry than hurt. My grandmother and I will take care of her and double our efforts to keep her safe.”

  Isabella nodded and took another bite of her deliciously flaky chicken pot pie. It was after ten of the clock and the dining room was fairly quiet now. There were still a few locals at the bar, surrounding a man singing folk ballads, but the tables around Henry and Isabella were empty, so they could speak freely. Henry pulled a jar out of his pocket and pushed it toward his fair companion. “Have Sally apply this later. My housekeeper in London makes it. It works remarkably well on bruised skin. I wish I could spare you the trip in the coach tomorrow, but we will all be safer and more comfortable in London.”

  Isabella blushed furiously, but took the jar and smiled her thanks, then kept turning it in her hands while Henry ate the last of his lamb, and refilled her glass with the excellent house ale. Eventually she took a deep breath. “Henry, can I ask a favor of you?”

  Henry observed the fidgeting and Isabella’s deepening blush with concern. “Of course, my darling, whatever you need. Are you well?”

  Isabella waved a dismissing hand. “Yes, yes, it’s just. You see, I truly enjoyed our kiss earlier. In fact, it was wonderful.”

  Henry smiled. “It was indeed. I will never forget it.”

  Moving uncomfortably in her chair, Isabella continued, “Henry, I keep thinking about what you said about me responding to you. I know I did when you kissed me earlier, and I’m wondering … if I responded to you then, could I possibly enjoy your physical attentions?”

  He reached for her hands. “I would give anything to find out.”

  “I know, but I’m not brave enough to marry you without finding out first.” Her embarrassment was obvious, but she held his gaze. “Can we, please?”

  Isabella looked at him with such a mixture of trepidation and hope, Henry almost laughed. But instead he stroked his thumbs over the back of her hands reassuringly and asked, “Will you please stay with me and Emily when we get to London?” He paused to work out how they might achieve this objective. “My grandmother hates summer in town and will be more than happy to hand you officially into the care of my godmother. Lady Greyson will neither judge nor comment if you choose to stay at my house instead. If I ask her, she will even cover for you when the baroness arrives in town.”

  Isabella held on to his hands for dear life. With a workable plan before her, the physical connection between them seemed the only thing capable of holding the panic threatening to grip her at bay.

  Henry could feel her tremble. “Isabella, nothing w
ill happen you are not ready for, I promise. I know this will be difficult for you, but you are right: we owe it to ourselves to try.”

  She had suggested it, and it was the only way for her to find out if she could marry him, but could she do it? And wouldn’t she feel even worse about herself if she couldn’t? Furthermore, there were practical considerations.

  And all the while his incredible kiss still burned on her lips and she craved for him to kiss her again. Her eyes drifted to his mouth, and he smiled knowingly. Isabella’s eyes snapped back up to Henry’s. “What if you get angry because you are aroused and I can’t continue?”

  Henry lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I was very much aroused earlier and I didn’t get angry.”

  “And what if I fall pregnant?”

  He considered the question. “Then, of course, we would have to marry for the sake of the babe. But if we get that far, I can wear a French letter.”

  Isabella nodded her agreement and pushed back her chair.

  Standing, Henry offered her his hand. “Come, it’s late, let me escort you to your room.”

  She placed her hand in his and let him lead her upstairs, and when they stopped to say good night outside her room, she tilted her head up to offer her lips without thought. Henry felt like a king to have gained her trust so quickly.

  This kiss was brief but tender, leaving Isabella wanting more, and that feeling gave rise to hope: they were doing the right thing.

  ISABELLA ENTERED HER ROOM AS if walking on a cloud. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the whitewashed wall.

  “Sally? I’ll need your help with this ointment.”

  She held the jar out in front of her when she heard movement and a muffled noise in the room, but when a hand was placed over her mouth, her eyes snapped open and her heart sank right through the cloud she had been on, free-falling toward the ground.

  “Sally is a little tied up right now. But don’t worry, my dear, you can send for her once we’re married.”

  That George should materialize tonight of all nights was horrifying. It was as if talking about what he had done to her had conjured him. Isabella wanted to rail against the gods and scream for Henry, but most of all she wanted to get away from George. She hit and kicked and scratched at him, but the more she fought, the bigger his grin got and the harder he pushed her into the wall.

  He shook his head. “Oh, Izzy, you don’t understand, do you?” He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “The more you fight, scream, and beg, the more I like it. Funny, isn’t it? Turns out you are my perfect mate.”

  Then all the demented playfulness disappeared. He forced a knotted scarf into her mouth and pulled it painfully tight at the back of her head. Isabella barely had time to think before he spun her away from him and tied her hands with practiced moves.

  “But first things first. I have to get you out of here and to the castle.”

  Isabella took heart at the realization he didn’t plan to rape her right then and there, but she also recognized how important it was to alert someone to her plight. She looked all about her to try and find something or someone who could possibly help her and met Sally’s terrified eyes across the room. Sally, too, was gagged and tied to a chair. Clearly, Isabella couldn’t expect any help from her friend, but George had stepped away to pick up a cloak from the bed. Trying her best to contain her rising panic, Isabella used her momentary mobility to step to the door and kick it with all her might as fast and often as she could. Then there was a sharp pain to the side of her head and all went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  HENRY KNOCKED ON GROSSMAMA’S CHAMBER door to apprise her of the plan to quarter Isabella with Lady Greyson. The dowager immediately declared herself much relieved not to have to spend more than a night in the sweltering capital, and Henry was admitted to find Emily and Lady Kistel still with her.

  During one of Lady Kistel’s amusing stories about her various daughters’ and granddaughters’ adventures in search of married bliss, Henry heard a strange rapping sound, but it stopped, so he thought nothing further of it. The stories continued for some time, and eventually Henry bid Grossmama good night and took Emily with him.

  “Come, Poppet, I’ll take you to your room. Susie will sleep with you tonight. Wait for me, William, or Thomas before you leave the building. I know Didcomb gave his word to take Ostley to Oxfordshire, but that’s no reason to let our guard down, understood?”

  Emily nodded and followed Henry into the corridor. The ordeal of the day had subdued her enough to follow her father’s rules without protest. They were headed to the end of the corridor when booted feet climbed the stairs behind them in some haste. Both turned to see who it was, and Henry stepped in front of his daughter to shield her. But as soon as the head of the man became visible between the slats of the banister, all anxiety dissolved.

  “Allen, what the devil are you doing here?”

  Allen’s somber expression lightened the moment he saw his friend and Emily, who rushed past Henry with a shriek and threw herself into Allen’s arms.

  “Uncle Allen, where have you been?”

  Allen caught her, but had to steady himself against the wall. “Good Lord, sweet pea, you have grown.” He set her down and stepped back half a step so he could get a good look at her. “In every possible way.”

  He took in Henry’s pained fatherly expression and grinned apologetically over Emily’s head. Then he sobered. “I only have a few moments, Henry. But I thought since you are here, and know the lady in question, I should let you know before I carry on.”

  He looked down at Emily, then met Henry’s eyes again. “Can I speak freely in front of the sprout, or should we send her to bed first?”

  Emily shook her head vigorously, and Henry sighed. “Well, you’ve done it now. You better just tell us.”

  Allen grinned, but his eyes remained serious. “I’m hard on the heels of a Viscount Ridgeworth. I came across him in Lord Didcomb’s establishment, where he was bragging about being on the verge of wedding a Miss Chancellor.”

  Henry stepped closer at the mention of Isabella and Ridgeworth.

  Allen continued, remembering another piece of information: “Your Mary is there, by the way, and she doesn’t like Ridgeworth one bit. She sends her regards and bids you not to worry about her, but she wants you to know Ridgeworth is the perverted reverend—she said you would know what that meant.”

  Henry’s lips pinched into a tense line. This was most unwelcome news. He nodded for Allen to continue.

  “You mentioned enjoying the company of a Miss Chancellor in one of your letters, so Ridgeworth’s claims piqued my interest. At first I dismissed him as a delusional fop, but then he used the news of his betrothal to stall his creditors in the city. Whilst following him around, I ran into an old acquaintance. He works for Bow Street, and it turns out they’re after Ridgeworth for murdering his cousin and his cousin’s two sons to gain the title. My friend, Deeks, was about to arrest Ridgeworth when he rushed off toward Brighton, with Deeks right after him. I tagged along, not least because I thought you should know.”

  The color had drained out of Henry’s face. His Isabella was in danger, from the man who had raped her, and who was, moreover, a murderer. Panic threatened to overpower his reason, but grim determination steadied him. Then the army training took over: get all the information and take the next logical step.

  “Emily, go knock on Isabella’s door and make sure she is safe and well.”

  Emily knew an order when she heard one and took off down the corridor to do as her father had asked. There was no answer, so she opened the door and slipped inside.

  Henry turned to Allen. “You followed Ridgeworth here? I didn’t see him.”

  Allen had seen Henry’s face turn pale and knew the news he brought to be the worst possible kind.

  “Yes, we stopped to make sure he wasn’t staying here for the night. Turns out he put up his horses and had dinner in the taproom around seven o’clo
ck. But he had his horses hitched up again and his carriage brought to the back of the building about an hour ago. It’s no longer there, so I need to get on the road after him.”

  Henry had already turned and was running toward Isabella’s door. At the same time Emily could be heard from within.

  “Papa, Papa, come quick!”

  What Henry found in Isabella’s room made his blood run cold. Sally lay on the floor, her hands and feet tied to a chair she had toppled in an attempt to draw attention. Emily knelt beside the crying maid, desperately trying to remove the gag from her mouth. Both Allen and Henry produced pocket knives to cut her bonds, helped her to sit on the bed, and rubbed one arm each to get the circulation flowing again.

  Despite the urgency of the moment, Henry noted Allen moved with speed and agility. There was no hint of the broken man who had returned from the Crimea, and Henry was exceedingly glad to have his friend by his side.

  The moment Emily got the gag out of Sally’s mouth, Henry demanded, “Where is your mistress?”

  Emily added a pleading “What happened?” when Sally couldn’t answer through her tears, and pressed her handkerchief into the maid’s hand.

  Drying her eyes, Sally resolutely blew her nose and straightened her spine before she spoke. “George Bradshore took Miss Isabella. He wants to marry her, but I can’t for the life of me work out why now.”

  Allen supplied the answer. “The viscount needs an heir. He is also in considerable debt and needs to marry a woman of means.”

  Sally turned to Henry. “You have to go after her. You don’t understand, she can’t marry him, it would kill her.”

  Henry looked into the soft brown eyes of Isabella’s maid and saw the real worry there. “I do understand, Sally. We will stop this. Did he say anything about where he was taking her?”

  “He said something about a castle. Since he’s the viscount now, it could be the one in Wales.”