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“I just mean,” Isabel continued, unfastening Sam’s riding habit, “you have so much going on with Evie, her odious cousin-guardian, her brute of a fiancé—”
“Brute?” Sam looked at Isabel, her lips twitching.
“Didn’t you say something to that effect? That he’s rude, and he told her he wouldn’t love her, or even feel affection toward her? Anyway, what I wanted to say is, if you feel like you have too much weight on your shoulders, you can always count on me to share the burden.”
Sam looked up at her sister with love in her eyes. Isabel had always been her confidante, her champion when their parents were alive, and even more so after their untimely demise.
“I know, Isabel, and I love you for it.” She smiled weakly. “I suppose I do have a heavy burden on my shoulders. But I need to figure out what it is before I can share it with you.”
“Good,” Isabel said, finishing up with the stays and leaving Sam in her chemise. “That’s all I wanted to know. I ordered you a bath. It should be here any moment.” Isabel smiled at Sam over her shoulder and left the room.
The door barely had a chance to close after her sister when Gina stormed in holding a piece of paper.
“The butler told me to give this to you with all haste,” she said with a belated curtsy.
“Thank you, Gina.” Sam looked at the signature and expelled a breath of relief. It was from Evie. She smiled as she opened the missive, but the smile died on her face the next moment. Her eyes widened and her mouth went slack before she gathered her wits and screamed at the top of her voice, “Isabel! I need you!”
* * *
“This is going to be hell,” John muttered to himself as his valet stepped back to admire the job he’d done on John’s cravat.
“It is just a ball, sir,” the valet answered.
John grimaced. It was a ball. There was nothingjustabout it. He’d have to rub shoulders with the crush of bodies again. Endure the smell of sweat, the loud noises, and the incessant crowds that gave him shivers. It was like being in the thick of the battle again.
But he needed to see Sam and tell her their plans. She had sent him a note, saying that the Montbrooks were planning to leave London in two days. Since the duchess was betrothed to him, they saw no reason for staying in London, while she could be learning about running the estate, preparing for their wedding, and taking over the dukedom. A noble reason, if he’d ever heard one. Only he doubted it was the main reason they were taking her away, especially since the betrothal contract was still unsigned.
The Somerset estate was located in Carlisle, not an hour away from Gretna Green. Since the betrothal to John hadn’t been made public, Sam assumed, and John agreed, that it would be easiest for the Montbrooks to force the duchess to marry whoever they wanted in the quiet of the North and return to London unscathed.
John went to Clydesdale right away and made plans of their own. Now, he needed to relay those plans to Sam and prepare everything so it would work out without a hitch.
“Your mount is ready, My Lord,” his valet shouted from downstairs.
John took a fortifying breath and exited the room.
A half an hour later, he was entering Gage’s townhouse. He stood in the receiving line, trying to block out the noises, the smells, and the suffocating heat. He concentrated on the fact that he was about to see Sam again. Her angelic features always made him feel calm. And that’s when he spotted her. She was standing flanked by her brothers and a sister, greeting the arrivals at their ball.
She looked like a beacon of sunshine in this suffocating manor. She stood out among the crowd, even her family. There was almost no familial resemblance at all. All of her siblings were dark-haired and had vivid blue eyes, while his angel was glowing like gold. For a moment, John wondered if perhaps they had even more in common than he’d initially thought. He watched her as he approached the hosts. Her gleaming golden hair was swept up in an intricate coiffure, her lips pursed in a thoughtful pout. She was wearing a high-waisted soft lilac gown, with an off-the-shoulder cut, white pearls around her neck, and long white gloves. She looked adorable. No, she was absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her.
She looked at him then, caught his gaze, and smiled. His eyes softened in a smile as well. It seemed the only time he truly smiled was when he was with her, or saw her, or was near her. He reached Sam’s side, not paying any heed to the crush of bodies he had to weave through. His headache, the jitters, and anxiety were nowhere in sight. Could it be that this young lady was the cure to all his troubles?
Sam’s sister cleared her throat, and he realized that he stood there simply staring at Sam. She was blushing profusely under his intense gaze. He raised his eyes to her brother then and encountered an icy, dark gaze.
John sketched a bow. “Lord Gage.”
“Ashbury.” The man sketched a bow so short it was practically a nod. “My brother Mr. Lewis and my sisters, Miss Lewis and Miss Samantha Lewis,” he said, indicating each of the siblings.
“A pleasure.” John bowed over the women’s hands and winked at Sam. She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile. “We’ll talk later?”
Sam nodded. “Wait for us by the French doors. We’ll come find you after we are done with the receiving line.”
John grimaced as he looked at the crush of people he had to traverse to reach the French doors but didn’t protest. He nodded and started weaving his way toward the indicated place. People were literally rubbing elbows with each other, so packed was the ballroom. He heard a familiar ringing in his ears.
Damn, not now.He hurried his step, although this made him even more awkward, bumping into people on his way. What seemed like an eternity later, he reached the French doors and burst through them onto the balcony. The fresh, frigid air hit his face, and he breathed in a lungful. He braced his hands on the railing and shut his eyes tightly.
John didn’t know how long he stood like that. He hadn’t felt the bite of the cold, or the sounds coming from the ballroom. His eyes were shut so tight he saw tiny stars in them.
“Ashbury.” A faint female voice cut into his subconscious. “Ashbury,” the voice said more forcefully this time, intruding on the fog in his head.
