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A bank note to the value of ten pounds. Was that all she was worth?
“I do not understand,” she whispered, understanding all too well.
“You wish to leave and flee these accusations but need money. I am being sympathetic to your plight.”
Isabelle swallowed. “Not if you were the cause of my plight.”
His gaze roamed her bosom. “I canappreciate what the duke sees in you, but he’ll soon lose interest in frivolling with the lower classes so don’t imagine he’ll ever marry you, a mere governess.” He sniffed. “You are simply delaying the inevitable.”
“That he marries your daughter?” Isabelle sniffed also. As she’d mentioned, she could sniff with the best of them “He may decide upon Miss Brecken or–”
“Hah! My Bronwen is the only choice within that ill-bred lot and he knows it. Once you’re removed, he’ll come to his senses. So accept the money, Miss Beaujeu, and without tedious indecision.” He scratched his nose. “And there’s more where that came from if you agree to admit responsibility for my Bronwen’s jewels. I will then graciously drop all charges. Can’t say fairer than that.”
Isabelle gritted her teeth. “So you and your daughter hid those rubies to incriminate…” Isabelle pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Lady Bronwen had seemed genuinely upset at the loss of her rubies so… “Or unbeknown to her, did you steal your own daughter’s jewels and place them in my room?”
The earl cast her an askew glance. “For a servant, you have vague intelligence.”
A burning fury shrouded Isabelle as she remembered all the incidents she’d suffered during this house party. Had he been responsible for them all, as the duke had suspected? The advances of Lord Gwilym at the ball? The slamming of the storeroom door? Manipulating the Pritchards to wreck her room? “Are you not worried,” she bit out, “that I will tell the duke of this bribe?”
He shrugged. “Tell away. I’m an earl and you are a nothing. Take the money, Miss Beaujeu. ’Tis in everyone’s best interests.”
Isabelle scowled at the ten-pound note…
Then raised her hand to let it flutter and lift on the wind, the zephyrs causing it to dance and contort before blowing it towards the sea.
“You witless trollop. What do you think you’re doing?”
Straightening her back, Isabelle glared. “I will not be going anywhere, Lord P–”
Her shoulders were grabbed, nails digging. “You will if you know what’s good for you,” he hissed, spittle spraying. “I’m not going to suffer the wrath of a hell owner when I can get him off my back with the duke’s money and prestige.” He rammed her against the stone wall, knocking the air from her lungs. “And some little slut of a nobody is not going to hinder me.”
Un. Deux. Trois…
It was no use: Isabelle was still somewhat peeved and dare she say irked so she heaved in a little air, scrunched her fingers to a tight fist, brought it back as far as she could and then rammed it with all her might into where she supposed Lord Powell’s nether regions to be located.
He wailed.
And fell to his knees, clutching his groin.
Gurgling.
They always gurgled.
She gathered her breath just as two gentlemen dashed around the curve of the tower.
“Isabelle!” The duke halted in his tracks, took in Lord Powell now lying prostrate and raised a brow. “That wasn’t part of the plan.” He swallowed. “You are most adept at that, are you not, my love?”
The Scandalous Mr Cadwalader shuffled with disquietude and crossed his ankles. “Where did you learn that, Miss Beaujeu?”
Isabelle allowed herself to preen, just for a moment. “I’m a governess, Mr Cadwalader. We learn many a matter.”
“Aberdare…” came a gurgle from the grass. “This little bitc–”
The duke’s top-boot met Powell’s gizzards.
More gurgling.
A further gentleman joined them and squinted down at the unfortunate peer who was turning rather crimson in the face. “We heard every word from the storeroom, Miss Beaujeu, and I…” Captain Brecken rubbed his nape and cleared his throat. “I apologise that I did not speak up in your defence yesterday. It was not well done of me. I allowed my…my hatred from the war to cloud my judgement, saw you as though an enemy upon the battlefield.”
