Page 32 of Lord of Loyalty

Chapter Seventeen

Sitting on her bed, Isobel pulled her knees up to her chest and stared morosely at the flickering candle flame and the dancing shadows it created on the wall. The sleeping house was quiet now, gloomy like her thoughts, dark like her soul.

Today had been one of joy, revelation, and searing pain. Little wonder she was unable to sleep—almost she would welcome the sour taste of poppy juice on her tongue, and the oblivion it offered. But that would be no more than a fleeting comfort, for the issues of the day would remain, and could not be resolved without her action.

Will would take care of Hubert—he had the evidence now, in the shape of those damning documents. He planned to ride out tomorrow, to an honest lawyer he knew, and send out scouts to locate her cousin so he could be arrested for fraud—and attempted murder.

The thought made her shiver, imbued every shadow with peril, made her miss Will’s comforting arms all the more.

Yet, she had to leave him. From her hiding place behind the drape in Will’s study, she’d heard every word of the exchange between him and the Mathiesons. It turned out Hubert had taken Will up on his suggestion and had called upon them. The master of the house had been absent, but it hadn’t taken long for the ladies to grasp the significance of what Hubert was saying. After that, they’d cheerfully accepted that Will was engaged to Paulina.

Will’s denial when the women called upon him resulted in a deafening fit of hysterics from Paulina. The unfortunate man was in hot water indeed—he couldn’t know what the Mathiesons had said to Hubert, whether or not they’d mentioned seeing Isobel on the day of her arrival. Paulina had become incoherent after Will explained Hubert’s assertion resulted from a misunderstanding—and her mother had refused to answer any questions.

If only Isobel could have stepped out and defended him! But who could say they wouldn’t have immediately known who she was, and informed Hubert? Will needed time—he must see the lawyer before he faced Hubert again, and must ensure the telling documents were in safe hands. She dared not do anything precipitous.

Will had finally managed to eject the two disgusted females from his house, but he’d sat a while with his head in his hands thereafter, before calling Isobel out from her hiding place. He’d looked drained, tired.

Her candle flickered again, and she came out of her musings with a start. Someone was there, right outside her door. In a sudden panic, she leapt from the bed, blew out the candle and armed herself with the chamber pot.

“Isobel, ’tis Will. Are you awake?”

Shoving the pot back under the bed, she stumbled to the door and lifted the latch.

“Evidently, you are awake. I thought I saw a light just now—were you reading?”

“Nay. I was worried you might be an enemy.”

He briefly kissed the top of her head, then set about igniting a spill from his tinderbox so he could light the candle. He was carrying a scrip, which he placed on the floor.

“It’s late, I know, but I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nor I.” She sat on the bed with her legs curled beneath her. She hoped he wouldn’t hear the catch in her voice—or if he did, he would put it down to her initial fright. Having Will here, so vivid and alive, in the intimacy of her chamber, was doing startling things to her, sending her imagination along paths where it had no right to roam.

“What a pass we have come to.” His voice was a sigh as he settled at the foot of her bed and leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “We jump at shadows and feel beset with enemies on every side. I regret you were forced to listen to what passed between me and Paulina.”

“She’s a headstrong young woman, and sadly deluded.” Nay, that was unfair. Now, whenever she laid eyes on Will, it was as if he filled her horizon from edge to edge and she saw nothing but him. She couldn’t blame Paulina for setting her cap at him. He was an easy man to love.

“I would say the entire family is headstrong and deluded. I trust they now understand I have no intentions towards Paulina.”

“She won’t let you go that easily.” Would she fight for Will in Paulina’s place? Even if it was not in his best interests? There was the rub.

“But what about your links with Leicester, and your hope of finding favor at court?”

“Mathieson has no proof of any treachery on my part—it is just his word against mine. I’ll take my chances. I’m here to discuss other matters.”

Her heart pounded. He was going to send her away. She knew she ought to go, but right now, her very soul rebelled against the idea.

“What matters?”

He lifted the scrip he’d brought with him, which she recognized as the one in which Manners had put his spoils from Marston House. “We need to talk about this. There’s more unpleasantness for you to face, my little dove—you must write an account of all the things Pike and his retinue have done that may be pertinent to the case against him.”

“I’ll write what I can remember, although it is very little. I was asleep or out of my wits much of the time.”

His gaze was soft, pitying. She mustn’t confuse his compassion with affection. Steeling herself to pragmatism, she asked, “What manner of actions should I record?”

“If you could note such occurrences as him sacking the servants, or selling your jewels and harpsichord without your permission, that would be useful. Your silver locket was the only item of value remaining in the house when Manners scoured it—perhaps you might write an inventory of what should have been there. And if you know the names of your original household, we may be able to trace them, and make use of their testimonies.”

A tide of melancholy swamped her. There were so many lovely things she’d never see again. Mementoes of her family, her childhood, her lost brother. Since Edward’s demise, Fortune had forsaken her. Only… it had sent her Will, at the time she most had need of a friend. But that friendship was proving to be a two-edged sword. She glanced at him, then dropped her gaze as a treacherous blush invaded her cheek.