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“Worry not, mademoiselle,” Marguerite said to Isabella, clearly still taken aback by Devon’s abrupt departure, “you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. And if you require an escort, I have many options for you.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
To her guests, Marguerite said, “I am having a new sculpture installed in my garden. Who here will join me in a stroll?”
Miss Herwood looked to Halsten.
“Please,” he encouraged. “I will join you in a moment.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. He could not keep the affection out of his eyes, nor did he care to make such an effort at the moment, but her gaze was upon Isabella.
“Yes, my lord,” Miss Herwood replied and rose to follow Marguerite and the other guests.
When they had left the veranda, he approached Isabella, who stared into her tea. “I think it best if you return to your father. Madame can part with a carriage and footman for the day.”
Isabella looked up. “I think I shall stay.”
Halsten stared at her in disbelief.
“In the East Wing,” she added.
He did not bother to hide his frown.
“I have met many a friendly person here. The Chateau is quite the intriguing place.”
“If you left now, your presence here may yet go undetected.”
She waved a hand. “La, Halsten! I am already compromised. It affords me freedom to be merry.”
“It does not give you carte blanche to be careless.”
“Halsten, you really are a wet blanket and quite the hypocrite.”
He bristled at the truth in her words. In truth, he was a hypocrite. He would see Isabella returned safely home and salvage her honor, but he had had no qualms in inviting Miss Herwood to Chateau Follet. While he had known, before he had first propositioned Miss Herwood, that she was no longer in possession of her maidenhead, he need not have risked what little remained of her reputation for his own selfish interests. He vowed to make it up to Miss Herwood and see that she never again had to frequent gaming hells to support her family.
“But if you must play the protector,” Isabella continued, “I will consider returning to my father on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“That you escort me.”
“I am escorting Miss Herwood back to London tomorrow.”
“Madame can part with a carriage and footman for the day.”
She smiled up at him. Halsten looked away. Perhaps she was not as guileless as she seemed.
This was hardly a part of his plan, which had focused on separating Devon and Isabella. It had worked well. The Earl had been informed anonymously that his son was pursuing the daughter of the Duke of Trent, who was known for his temper and penchant to avenge any slight to his family. Halsten knew Devon to have a healthy fear of his own father and so would not gainsay the Earl.
Halsten had no desire to leave Follet, but he was weary of having to keep an eye on Isabella , and he had but one more day to enjoy his time with Miss Herwood. If Isabella stayed, he could not be assured that she would come to no harm. She was moody and reckless.
If he left, his time with Miss Herwood would be at an end.
He barely wanted to contemplate the thought; yet, a premature end to his association with Miss Herwood was perhaps the wiser course. He was developing far too great an attachment to her. Though his cock wanted nothing more than to be buried deep inside of her once more, and his experience with her in the East Wing had ignited an incredible desire to return there with her, staying another day would simply satisfy his self-indulgent lust.
“Very well,” he said to Isabella. “We depart in two hours’ time. I will inform Miss Herwood.”
“I prefer your company alone.”
