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“And you”—he pointed to Isabel—“coddling her ever since she was a babe. If you were firmer with her—”
“Don’t I get to take responsibility for my actions?” Sam asked with a sigh.
“By all means!” Gage waved a hand, before planting his legs apart and folding his arms on his huge chest, looking dark and menacing. “Please do.”
“It’s all my fault,” she said and bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have gone outside with John. It’s my fault and no one else’s.”
Gage raised his eyebrow in a condescending gesture.
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I feel bad?” she cried. “The look of betrayal on Evie’s face.” She bit her lip, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Isabel said, standing up. “We all need rest.”
She stretched her hand toward Sam, and she took it. Isabel tugged her up and enfolded her in a warm embrace. Sam let her tears overflow and trickle down her cheeks.
“All right, but don’t think this is over,” Gage said, and Sam heard his footsteps retreat toward the door.
“You promised not to do anything rash!” Isabel called out to him as the door closed.
Sam disengaged herself from Isabel and wiped at her cheeks. “He’s right,” she said on a hiccup.
“About what?” Isabel smiled. “That it’s my fault or Adam and Ben’s?”
“No.” Sam waved her hand with a watery smile. “That I am spoiled and irresponsible.”
Isabel gave a short puff. “He never said that.”
“Well, he meant it, and he’s right.”
“He is not,” Isabel said emphatically. “You were caught up in the moment, it happens to everyone.”
“Does it?” Sam raised her vulnerable gaze to her sister’s.
“It does. We are not all as virtuous as we seem. I am sure Gage has conducted a fair share of indiscretions himself.”
Sam scoffed. “I doubt it.”
“Well, don’t. I knowIhave been less than perfect.” Isabel lowered her gaze.
Sam cocked her head. “Do you mean with Stanhope?”
“I do.” A small, sad smile appeared on Isabel’s face before she tugged on Sam’s hand and led her out of the drawing room.
They walked in silence for a while until they stopped in front of Sam’s room.
Sam’s mind traveled from her downfall to Isabel’s misfortunes. Sam knew her sister still felt deeply for Stanhope, otherwise, she would have found another man to marry. It served him right that his wife was cavorting with St. Clare.
“You know,” she said carefully. “I think Stanhope deserved what he got.”
Isabel grimaced uncomfortably. “To be humiliated so publicly. I don’t know. I never wished him ill.”
“You didn’t have to,” Sam said smugly. “You have a sister for that.”
