Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord
Page 102

“Yes, well … I’m testing the theory.”
Kate leaned against the table and watched her mistress for a long moment before saying, “One of the horses is gone.”
That got Isabel’s attention. “Gone?”
“As if it never was.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. “Which one?”
“Your husband’s.”
“He’s gone?”
“It seems that way.”
She shook her head. “No. He was here. Last night.”
“Perhaps he’s just ridden into town for something.” There was little confidence in Kate’s tone.
Isabel rushed from the kitchen back upstairs, knocking on the door to his bedroom and barely waiting to enter.
She stopped just inside the door.
He was gone; his things vanished with him.
The bed was not even slept in.
He had left immediately after—
Isabel hugged herself, suddenly cold and unbearably tired.
She turned back to the door, where Kate stood. “Isabel. Is there something I can do? Is there something you need? ”
Isabel shook her head, barely hearing the words.
He was gone. She had driven him away.
Just as her mother had driven her father away.
“I—I need …” She shook her head, a crushing sadness overwhelming her. “I need …”
I need him.
“I need to be alone,” she whispered. “I’ve …”
I’ve ruined everything.
Kate did not speak, understanding even as Isabel did not. She stepped back into the hallway, leaving Isabel alone in the room.
Isabel closed the door, and climbed into the bed—the bed where her husband should have been sleeping. Where they should have been sleeping together.
But he was not here.
She was alone again, and worse for having had him there at all.
He had left her. Just as her father had done. Just as she had feared he would.
She’d driven him away.
Turning on her side, Isabel pulled her knees up to her chest, and let the tears come. She wept, deep racking sobs that mourned her marriage and what could have been, if only she had trusted herself to love him.
And when there were no more tears, she slept.
It was late when she woke, the sun streaming into the warm room in long golden rays. For a moment, she did not know where she was, and she sat up trying to place the room. When she did, the memories came flooding back.
She stood, sadness and regret making the simple movement more difficult than she would have imagined.
She moved to the door and opened it to find a worried Lara standing outside. Her cousin turned at the sound, and Isabel said, “How long have you been here? ”
Lara waved one hand in the air. “It does not matter. Oh, Isabel.” She took Isabel in her arms, hugging her fiercely before pulling back to ask, “What happened? ”
Isabel shook her head. “I don’t know. One moment we were happy and I believed we might be a success, and the next …” I ruined it. “ … the next, I was making a mess of it. And he was gone.”
“I am sure you did not make a mess of it,” Lara said, with a certainty born of love and friendship.
“But I did.” Isabel looked into her cousin’s eyes, recognizing the worry there. “I love him, Lara.”
Lara gave a little supportive laugh and said, “But that is not a mess! That is wonderful!”
Tears sprang to Isabel’s eyes. “No. It isn’t. Because I told him I didn’t love him. That I couldn’t love him.”
Confusion flashed on the other woman’s face. “But why?”
Isabel was flooded with sadness. “I do not know.”
Lara came forward, wrapping her arms around her. “Oh, Isabel.”
Isabel clung to her, tears coming fast. “I didn’t tell him because I was scared. I thought that if I loved him, I would turn into my mother. I thought I would open myself to heartache, and now … now it is too late. I hurt him. I hurt him and he left.”
“Perhaps he will come back,” Lara said, hopeful.
“Perhaps.” But even as she said the words, she knew it would not happen.
How many times had he worked to regain her trust, to prove his worth? And how many times had Isabel rejected him? And then that last time—when the fire had gone from his eyes, leaving only a cool, calm aristocrat—that was when she had lost him.
Isabel cried for a long while, drawing comfort from her cousin.
Finally, the tears stopped, and she took a deep, calming breath just in time to face James as he came tearing up the stairs. “Isabel!” He stopped short, registering her tearstained face. “What has happened? Why are you crying?”
James slowly came closer, his face serious. Isabel noticed that he was wearing a waistcoat. And a perfectly tied cravat. He was a little man. The evidence of Nick’s influence had tears near once more. She closed her eyes against them, refusing to reveal her sadness to her brother.
Isabel forced a smile. “It is nothing, James. What is it?”
James stared at her for a long while, his brow furrowed in concern. Finally, he said, “Jane sent me to fetch you. I think you will feel better when you see why.”
I doubt it.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “She told me I wasn’t to tell you. You must see for yourself.”
Isabel sighed. The Park still needed its mistress. Lovelorn or not. “Very well, lead the way.”
As the trio descended the stairs to the second floor, Isabel became aware of the noise. It was a loud, raucous collection of chatter unlike anything she’d ever heard. They hurried to the top of the stairway leading to the grand foyer, and she paused there, frozen in surprise at the picture below.