Isabella's Secret Summer Page 20

  However, when he spoke, his voice was kind. “I regret that I wasn’t able to visit with you yesterday. I believed that you needed your rest after such a traumatic experience.”

  Isabella’s thigh throbbed in response. “It is certainly something I’d rather not repeat.”

  “Indeed. I should think not.” He smiled gently. “As I was speaking with Logan, Pierce, and Ridge, he told me that your union with Lord Wistenberry was not overseen by a true officiate.” He paused. “Do you believe this to be true?”

  Isabella clasped her hands in her lap. “I do. In fact, Simon took great delight in letting me know that our union was not genuine, and that he’d procured a false document for the sole purpose of gaining my dowry.”

  “I see.” He frowned, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair. “You understand this causes quite a predicament for me. If I send you back to London to rejoin your family now, your reputation will be ruined beyond repair.”

  Isabella swallowed. “I know.”

  “However,” he added. “As Lord Ashfield is a respected friend, as well as being your godfather, I can’t, in all good conscience, allow you, or your family, to leave things as they are without doing my best to rectify your current situation.”

  A stone began to settle in the pit of Isabella’s stomach, for she was afraid what might be coming.

  “In such, I think it’s imperative that I do my part in securing a husband for you in all due haste—”

  “My lord,” Isabella interrupted quickly. “I appreciate that you are trying to salvage what is left of my reputation, but I am the one who ran off with Simon. I was well aware of what might happen when I climbed into that carriage, and yet, I made the choice to do so anyway. I am fully prepared to accept the consequences of my actions.”

  He regarded her evenly. “You would subject your family to further scorn, then?”

  Isabella glanced away. He had said the one thing certain to pierce her conscience. In turn, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I regret that my impulsiveness has injured them—”

  “Then we agree that a swift marriage is the best option,” he interjected smoothly. He rose to his feet. “I have made arrangements for you to return to your father’s estate this afternoon, until such time as preparations can be made for a proper match within the ton.”

  Isabella was quite sure all the blood leached from her face as she jumped to her feet. “Please, my lord. I beg of you to allow me the freedom to choose my own husband.”

  His brow furrowed. “I believe you already did that once before and failed, my dear.”

  She grasped his sleeve. “I agree that was rash and impulsive, and I regret putting my faith in Simon. I see now that I was foolish and naïve, but there is another man—”

  Instantly, his frown deepened. “I hope that you aren’t referring to Mr. Claymoore.”

  Isabella hesitated. “I have become very… fond of him, it’s true. Perhaps if I speak with him—”

  “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

  “Why?” She could feel desperation rising within her chest. “Because he’s a commoner?”

  Liverpool’s jaw tightened. “Among other things. He’s just not an appropriate match for you.” He sighed, his expression softening a bit. “I understand the matters of the heart and the importance of love. I have a particular affection for my dear wife, Louisa, but my father didn’t want us to marry. In truth, he was strongly opposed to the match since I was but four and twenty, but with the assistance of a friend, coercion from the king, and her rather sizeable dowry, I was able to wed who I wanted.”

  He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Unfortunately, not all of us have that luxury. It’s just the way of things in our society. We make sacrifices and do what we must for the good of our country. Ridge is an agent for the Crown. He is highly respected among the nobility, but I know that he’s not the type to settle down into a committed relationship. I fear he would not make a good husband.”

  In her heart, Isabella had known this, but she just hadn’t wanted to face the truth. Abruptly, all the joy she’d been clinging to earlier that morning evaporated like the spray upon the beach. Without anything further to say, she lowered her head. “I will instruct Claudia to pack my things and be ready to go when you send for me.”

  Again, the earl sighed. “Don’t fret, Miss Resenfeld. There are worse things in life than a marriage of convenience. Affection will surely follow in time.”

  With that, he took his leave.

  Isabella took a deep breath as tears began to sting her eyes. While she knew there wasn’t any hope in speaking to Ridge, she couldn’t leave without trying to seek him out.

  After a lengthy search, she found him standing at the edge of one of the bastions. His entire body was rigid, his shoulders stiff, as he glanced out over the crashing waves of the shore.

  “I thought you didn’t care for heights.”

  He hung his head and then turned to face her. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a dark brow. “Sometimes I’ve found we need to face our fears.”

  Isabella wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms, but what would that do but prolong the agony of her upcoming departure? “I’m traveling to Hertfordshire this afternoon.”

  “I heard.”

  She waited for something more, some sort of emotion other than this cold detachment, but there was nothing. So she tried another tactic. “It looks as if I’m to be married.”

  He didn’t even reply this time, simply nodded.

  Isabella clenched her fists, irritation bubbling up within her. “Are you not even going to say anything?”

  His dark eyes swirled with emotion as he looked at her, but she didn’t know if it was annoyance, anger–-or something else entirely. “What am I supposed to say?”

  Isabella swiftly inhaled, as pain exploded inside her chest, a small part of her heart cracking open to bleed pure misery. “I see.”

  She turned around and began to walk away, but she paused when he spoke at last. “It’s out of my hands, Isabella. There isn’t anything I can do.”

  She spun to face him once more. “Isn’t there?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, his patience obviously at an end. He stalked over to her and grasped her by the arms. “What is it that you expect from me?” he said harshly. “I never anticipated any of this. I never anticipated you.”

  Her eyes roamed over his face. “So that’s your excuse?” She ripped herself out of his grasp and shook her head slowly, sadness overwhelming her. “I should have known you would be no better than Simon.”

  His eyes glittered ominously. “Don’t you dare compare me to him. We are nothing alike.”

  “Aren’t you?” she countered softly. “You both used me to suit your needs, and I’m the one who’s still paying the price.”

  “Isabella,” he heaved a sigh. “Just listen to me—”

  “Actually, I think I’ve heard enough.” She had to swallow over the lump in her throat when she said, “Goodbye, Mr. Claymoore.”

  She walked away, her heart shredded as tears coursed down her cheeks.

  She yearned to leave this castle now, to never look upon that handsome face ever again, because if he couldn’t even fight for her, then why should she try to do the same for him?

  That afternoon, it was a teary farewell as Isabella hugged Mrs. Hopper. “You didn’t hardly touch your food at luncheon, my lady,” she sniffed. “So I packed a sturdy repast for your journey.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella whispered. “I’ll never forget you.”

  “You better keep your word and write to me to let me know you made it home safely,” Ethel instructed.

  “I will,” Isabella returned, although her family estate certainly didn’t feel like home anymore, but yet another prison where she must wait to carry out her sentence.

  But since she refused to dwell on such maudlin thoughts right now, she climbed into the carriage across from Claudia. Lord Liver
pool was kind enough to offer the use of his carriage, as well as Mr. Hopper, who would drive them to their destination.

  Isabella watched as Mr. Montgomery mounted his horse, for Liverpool was sending him along as extra protection. Until Simon was captured, he was still a threat to her safety, and the earl wasn’t taking any chances they could be set upon during their journey.

  As the coach set into motion, Isabella didn’t look back at the castle to see if Ridge was there, standing and watching her depart. He was the single person who hadn’t bothered to join the others in wishing her a safe journey.

  “Are you well, my lady?”

  Isabella glanced over at her maid and forced a smile. “I will be, Claudia.” She looked out the window and whispered, “I will be.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Isabella sighed in relief as the carriage at long last pulled into the village of St. Albans. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived at their destination. To say the journey had been torturous would have been an understatement. Although Logan had tried to see to her comfort by procuring a private room for a quiet supper at an inn where they had stopped along the way, unfortunately, he couldn’t release her from her thoughts. In the end, she’d merely picked at her food and pushed it away virtually untouched.

  The rest of the journey had passed in silence. Claudia dozed across from her in the carriage, dusk turning into night as they traveled along the countryside. Isabella stayed awake for the most part, staring outside and wondering what Ridge was doing at that very moment. Did he even miss her? Was he lamenting her loss as well?

  She snorted at that, for the irritable man hadn’t even bothered to send her off with a simple farewell. Apparently she’d been nothing more than a temporary diversion for him, used and discarded after he’d gained what he’d wanted from her.

  And he claimed not to be anything like Simon.

  It seemed to her that they were two sides of the same coin.

  It made her angry, and she desperately tried to cling to that emotion, for it was so much better than nursing a broken heart.

  As if a something clicked in her brain, she decided that she wasn’t going to waste any more effort on him if he wasn’t going to do the same for her. Ridge had made his decision. He’d let her go. She would do the same.

  She also planned to take charge of her future. While Lord Liverpool intended for her to take a husband for the sake of her reputation, she had conceived another plan. Now that her dowry was restored to her, sitting in the bottom of her trunk, she knew what she would do.

  She would go to America and start a new life.

  Her friend, Triana, had brought up the subject some weeks ago, before she’d wed the Duke of Chiltern. Korina was an heiress from New York and was in London at her parents’ behest that she marry a title. Of course, Korina had no desire to do so and planned to return home after the first of the year. By then, Alyssa, Rowena, and Isabella would all have reached the age of five and twenty and had decided to go with her. While Isabella couldn’t speak for Alyssa and Rowena, she intended to keep to the pact.

  She tapped a finger against her lips. Perhaps she might be able to travel abroad before then. Her birthday was in July, just a couple weeks away. Surely that would be enough time for her to make the necessary preparations, as well as send word to Korina, ensuring that there would be someone to take her in when she arrived.

  Now, more than ever, she needed this escape from the strictures of society. She’d always heard that America was a forward thinking New World, with freedoms that had been denied her in England. It sounded wonderful, like a magical place she’d read about in books.

  She sighed. Now that her attention was diverted, the stress of leaving Ridge and all the trouble that Simon had put her through, she saw a break in the clouds. She might be a woman with little say in the world, but she intended to follow through on this decision.

  And never look back.

  Thus, when her father’s impressive, whitewashed estate manor came into view with the incoming dawn, she was no longer dreading her stay here in exile.

  As the carriage came to a halt and Isabella alighted with Mr. Hopper’s assistance, she saw that Ashfield Hall’s ever-efficient butler, Pendleton, was standing on the top stoop waiting to greet her, but then, Lord Liverpool had written ahead to let the staff know of her impending arrival.

  Two footmen rushed forward to gather her trunks as Isabella turned to give the porter of Walmer Castle an impulsive hug. “I hope that you’ll come in for a cup of tea at least.”

  As she pulled back, she thought she saw a hint of moisture in Herb’s wizened eyes. He smiled gently. “I appreciate the offer, my lady, but I should be returning to the castle.”

  Isabella sighed, for his refusal had more to do with the fact he was a servant and not of noble birth. That was one thing she was looking forward to in America, that she could sit and converse with whomever she pleased without a flurry of tongues wagging to the contrary. “Then I suppose this is goodbye. I will miss you and your wife greatly. Please relay my best wishes once again.”

  “I will indeed, my lady.” With a tip of his hat, he climbed into the driver’s seat, and with one last wave, he headed back the way he’d come.

  Isabella watched him go with a twinge of sadness in her heart. She had known the caretakers of Walmer for a short time, and yet, they had filled a void she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing in her life. She was truly going to mourn their loss as one of family.

  “My lady?”

  Isabella turned to see Claudia standing by her side, patiently waiting. So, she walked to the front door. Logan’s horse had already been taken care of by a stable hand, so he was standing expectantly by the butler as well. He offered her a nod as she approached, and then she focused her attention on Pendleton.

  He was truly the quintessential English servant, straight-laced and proudly erect, and even though she’d known him all of her life, he never greeted her with anything more than a polite reserve. There wasn’t even a twinkle in his eyes, just a detached familiarity.

  He bowed. “Lady Isabella. It’s good to have you back in residence.”

  “Thank you, Pendleton,” she murmured in return, doing her best not to grit her teeth.

  The housekeeper was standing in the foyer as Isabella went inside. “Mrs. Willow.”

  With her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a severe bun, her mouth pinched, the woman merely replied with, “Your old rooms are prepared, and I’ll send up a bath and a breakfast tray shortly.”

  Isabella nodded, feeling as if she’d been dismissed even though this was her family home, and started to head that direction. It was ironic that, even though she was the one of noble birth, she had always been treated as a guest. Then again, when it came to the upper servants, they were the ones who ran the household, ensuring that everyone did their part. It was surely a daunting task to oversee so many, and yet, it was also the reason that they were so straightforward in their mannerisms.

  The moment the door to Isabella’s chamber closed, Claudia muttered, “I daresay I haven’t missed that bossy old crone.”

  Isabella couldn’t help but snort, as she removed her bonnet and tossed it on a nearby chair, for it was such an apt description.

  But then, her maid’s expression abruptly bleached of color. “Pardon, my lady. That was out of line. I forgot myself for a moment. I suppose I got too lax at Walmer, but I will be more careful with my opinions from now on to ensure I don’t get reprimanded.”

  Isabella sat down and began removing her boots, but now she glanced up. “You are welcome to speak freely in my chamber, Claudia. After everything we’ve been through in the past few weeks, I should think you would feel comfortable with me, at least.”

  “I do, my lady,” Claudia said as she gathered up the items Isabella discarded and began putting them away. “But Ashfield Hall is just one step closer to returning to London society. Things must return to order.”

  Isabella could hear t
he sadness in the other girl’s voice, and she couldn’t help but think the same.

  ***

  “You’ve been rather reserved since your return to the city. I daresay it isn’t like you.”

  Sitting with Millicent in her private parlor that evening, Ridge glanced up, although he continued to thread his coin through his fingers.

  “I suppose a certain lady is to blame for your current reticence,” she continued.

  Ridge couldn’t help but snort, but then, he’d never been able to hide anything from the lady. She had known him since birth and it was hard to deceive her after close to three decades.

  He’d arrived in London earlier that day with Lord Liverpool and Rutherford. There was no longer any use for them to remain at Walmer, for the earl had matters to attend to back at Parliament. Ridge and Pierce had gone to Whitehall to engage in a lengthy inquisition about what had transpired at Gravelines, but while the Home Secretary, Lord Sidmouth, instructed Pierce to remain, as the Regent requested an audience with him, Ridge was annoyed when he was dismissed without being assigned a new mission. It was the one thing he’d been looking forward to upon his return — a chance to return things to normal.

  Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case.

  Lord Sidmouth had leaned back in his chair and regarded him with a considering frown. “It appears that Lord Wistenberry is still a threat.”

  “He is,” Ridge had returned evenly. “But Montgomery is in charge of his fate now, as well as the wellbeing of Lady Isabella.”

  “That may be true,” the other man had replied. “However, I still think it a good idea for you to keep vigil in London should he decide to brazen a return.”

  And that was that.

  Once he’d been dismissed, Ridge had nothing left to do but cool his heels and make a few discreet inquiries among the docks and a few shady taverns in the East End in his guise as One-Eye. Otherwise, he had little else but time on his hands. Time, which he didn’t want, nor need, for that did nothing but direct his thoughts toward Isabella.

  It was bad enough that the memory of her soft curves and the taste of her sweet lips was enough to drive him mad. He knew he’d been an ass to stay away when she’d left the castle. However, to be fair, he hadn’t trusted himself not to plead with her to stay if he hadn’t.