But she did not want him. Not permanently. She had been clear about that – one night, and then she would return to Scotland and enter the convent. She would spend the rest of her life in service to God, and he...
He would marry someone appropriate. Someone proper. Someone who would make a suitable duchess and give him heirs and never, ever make his heart race the way Isobel did.
The thought made him physically ill.
Richard sank onto the workbench where, just moments ago, he had made love to Isobel for the first and last time. The wood still held her warmth, and he pressed his palm against it, desperately trying to hold onto some piece of her.
He loved her. God help him, he loved her.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The silence of the night gave Isobel’s heart beat the void it needed to echo in her head as she returned to the house.
It was as though the further away she got from the garden house – from Richard – the more viscerally her body and mind opposed what was to come.
Her body still carried heavy reminders of what they had done, her skin still wearing marks of his affection from the moments they shared that had been charged with lust and desire. But she knew she would have to ignore it all if she was to get over him.
Valerie was to be wed very soon, and once the union ceremony was over, Isobel would be on her way back to Scotland. She was to commit to a life that she had been ready to pledge to before she was invited back to London, but for some reason, it was somehow harder to reconcile with the idea.
She had been so adamant that nothing would change. Still, everything was so different, less clear than it had been before she had witnessed the full extent of his desire for her.
“That is all it was,” she told herself as she drew closer to the house. “Only an excuse for us both to satisfy our desires. I was… merely curious and now, my curiosity has been sated.”
The words tasted like ash, and her throat tightened as she entered the house. Every part of her screamed at the falsehoods that swirled around in her head, but it did not matter. Her mind had been made up, and she must forget all about what they had shared up until now.
The ball had obviously drawn to a close, and the barely hushed mumbles of servants and staff as they cleaned up the manor told Isobel that the guests had all retired for the night. And while she was thankful that no one had intercepted her rendezvous with Richard in the garden or interrupted them afterwards, she thought it was a little strange that no one had sought to know her whereabouts.
Adrian had no reason to seek her out if he had seen her with Richard, but it was odd that no one had prompted him to go and find her. The closer the wedding drew, the less it seemed as though people cared about Valerie – other than her husband-to-be and siblings.
Gregory had shown time and time again that his interests lay in the benefits of the union between his daughter and the Duke of Norwich. However, every time his nonchalance was brazenlydisplayed, she could not help but feel even more thankful for the upbringing she had received.
Her own father, Fergus, would have given up the use of all his limbs before he would even consider using any of his children for his own benefits. And even then, it would have destroyed him to make such a decision.
She had been rather young when it happened, but she could still recall how upset he had been when Catherine had to marry a duke to settle a debt. Without her marriage, they would have lost their home and, much worse, but Catherine had taken the task without fear. Fergus had been beside himself with worry to the point that he had fallen ill.
Thankfully, Catherine’s husband worshipped the very ground she walked on, and the union had blessed the family, so none of their father’s fears came true. And Adrian did seem to love Valerie immensely, which granted Isobel relief.
Still, she could not help but wonder if perhaps the attack on Valerie was not simply an attempt to intercept the wedding – but also a means of taking away the power and influence Gregory would receive as a result.
With how easily her father accepted the idea that his sister might be responsible for what had happened to his daughter, Isobel thought they might not have been on good terms. Perhaps that was why Deborah seemingly had no problem aiding or facilitating the attack on Valerie, despite her well-meaning nature.
It was frustrating to Isobel that no matter how close she thought she had gotten to the end of this mess, there were still so many unresolved answers. Despite Richard’s disapproval of Gregory’s idea for Isobel to practically bait Deborah into exposing herself, she was worried that was the only way to get the answers they sought.
“I miss my family,” Isobel whispered to herself as she climbed the stairs that led to the floor her room was on.
They might have had many problems – just like any other family – but nothing like this would have ever happened.
Isobel looked up at her doorway and froze, noting that someone was standing in front of it, their back to her. The hallway barely had any light, and the shadows obscured the person, and for a moment, she was worried the culprit had come to finish the job, once and for all.
But then, the form approached her, and the first thing she noticed was that he was shorter than she had assumed. Then she realized that it wasn’t the culprit, but rather her brother Cecil.
“Cecil? What is – are you all right?” she questioned in concern, noting the look of exhaustion on his face as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
The ball was only for the adults, so the children were meant to have long since been put to bed, yet Cecil – although already dressed in his night clothes – seemed wide awake.
He moved closer to her, and she could not help but open her arms to him, the way Graham would do whenever she was upset. The child hesitated, only just, before welcoming her embrace.
