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Expecting the innkeeper or the innkeeper’s wife, he instead found Isabella in her ruffled nightgown and shawl.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
“May I enter?”
He hesitated but reluctantly stepped aside. She swept into his room and appraised his quarters. She looked at the bed.
“A luxury compared to the duet beds in the East Wing,” she murmured, stepping towards him. “Did you enjoy last night?”
“I hope never to set eyes on Lord Devon again.”
She looked to his groin. “That did not stop your...arousal.”
“Isabella, what is it you wish?”
“In truth, I care little for Lord Devon myself. But he is gone. As is Miss Herwood. The time is ours.”
He stared at her as she peered up at him. For a fleeting moment, he considered that she could help him forget Miss Herwood.
He sighed. “Isabella, go back to you room.”
“La, you have not turned into a gentleman of a sudden? How tiresome that would be.”
“As the daughter of the Duke of Trent, you still have a world of possibilities before you. Do not waste your attentions on me.”
“Why not? Did you not seek my favors?”
“I have not renewed my suit.”
“But you and I have much in common. We are kindred spirits, thanks to Chateau Follet.”
He considered her statement. A wife with the same penchants in that realm was certainly attractive.
“We are not suited in other ways.”
She reached out to him and fingered the cloth of his banyan. “Do you not seek in a wife beauty, breeding, and youth?”
And intelligence, compassion, and fortitude, he added silently.
She slipped her hand beneath the banyan to his chest. “Or do you prefer women of Miss Herwood’s sort? Older and less refined?”
He pulled away from her, angered by her petty disparagement of Miss Herwood.
“I prefer a field unplowed by the likes of Lord Devon.”
They were rude words, but he did not regret them in the heat of the moment. Isabella stared at him, stunned, then colored quickly when she realized his implication.
“You do prefer Miss Herwood. I wonder if your time spent in India has lowered your standards? Alas, you could have done much better.”
She lifted her chin and stalked out of his room.
She did not speak to him the entire remainder of the journey the following day. The Duke was much surprised to see his daughter as well as the Baron Rockwell. Isabella claimed convincingly that the air in London was a bit stifling and she missed her mother.
“Our paths crossed, and I saw no reason not to escort your daughter home,” Halsten explained when the Duke turned to him.
Despite the late hour, Halsten declined the Duke’s invitation to stay. If the Duke had any thoughts that Halsten intended to pursue Isabella, Halsten wished to put an end to such thinking by preferring an inn and departing from Trent as soon as possible.
* * * * *
