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She lifted a slight brow. “I’m not sure the disappointment is mine.”
Rem fell silent because it was the truth. No matter how much he might wish to gain Isadora’s notice as more than a business associate, she was quite stubborn. He had never met a lady more set on her current course, nor so determined not to veer astray.
The carriage fell silent until they stopped at the next inn. As they shuddered to a halt, Isadora was startled awake.
“Easy, there.” Rem put a hand on her shoulder when she sat upright. “We’ve just paused to change horses.”
She nodded, and then covered a yawn with her hand. “Where are we?”
“Unfortunately, not in Scotland yet, but I think we’ll be stopping here for the night.” He stepped to the ground and reachedback a hand to assist her to the ground. It was dark outside. “We’re in Bryness, the last town in England before the border. I’m sure you knew it wouldn’t be a journey for the faint of heart,” he noted lightly.
She shrugged one shoulder. “It hasn’t been that different from traveling to Newcastle from London, really. The only difference is that I had a better pillow to rest my head upon.”
He glanced at her and noticed that her eyes were shining with a particular mirth. “Lady Isadora!” he chided mockingly. “Don’t say you are teasing me?”
Her lips twitched. “Perhaps.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Will wonders never cease?”
She laughed and he offered a wink in return. Inside, he was celebrating this victory, however small it might be.
Isadora wasgrateful that the inn wasn’t so crowded that she and Lord Osgood might be forced to share a room. He did, however, explain that when their traveling companion had asked if they were married, he claimed that they were cousins. “It was the best explanation I could come up with on short notice.”
She inclined her head. “I’m perfectly content being your cousin, my lord.”
“Capital.” He’d smiled broadly. “Then I suppose that’s what we shall be for the rest of the journey should anyone else inquire.”
Now, as Isadora readied herself for bed, using the hip bath to refresh herself after a long day, she found that sleep wouldn’t readily claim her. She supposed that’s what she got for taking a nap so late in the day. But with the rocking of the coach and the comforting warmth of the marquess next to her, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open. Now, however, she was paying the price for it.
Normally, if she had trouble with insomnia, she liked to take ashort walk, or at least meander among her flower gardens behind the townhouse, but when she was in unfamiliar territory as she was now, she wasn’t too eager to go exploring outside on her own. There was no telling what sort of unsavory types might be lurking about.
Thus, she forced herself to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.
She wondered what the marquess was doing right now. Was he snoozing soundly, or perhaps had he donned a pair of spectacles and was choosing to read a book by the fire? The image of him doing just that caused a smile to bloom across her face. She found the idea of Lord Osgood enjoying some sort of Radcliffe novel rather humorous. More than likely it was some study about philosophy, or a subject just as scholarly. If there was one thing she’d learned about Lord Osgood, it was that he was kind and intelligent. She could have refused to come along on this journey with him, but he had been so considerate of her desire to be an independent woman that she hadn’t found it within herself to deny him this simple request. Considering there was also business to attend to when they reached their journey’s end, it’s not as though it would be a worthless endeavor. She prayed that his great-grandfather would live long enough to meet Lord Osgood, because he would surely be proud of the man he was.
Isadora was content to think about the marquess until she fell asleep, but when she compared how she was starting tofeeltoward Lord Osgood—that was another matter entirely. The stars were beginning to align in the same direction as they had all those years ago, and that scared her.
She rolled onto her side and placed her hands beneath her cheek. Shutting her eyes tightly, she attempted to steady her breathing. It was during these few, unaltered moments that she allowed the past to envelope her, to haunt her with the memories that she did her best to forget but would somehow never fade.
The events that had taken place more than a decade ago were something that she had never told anyone. Not her sisters, asingle servant, or even her father. She supposed shame had something to do with it, even though she didn’t believe there had been anything wrong with caring for someone. Nevertheless, she had been too embarrassed to admit her failings, that she had allowed herself to fall in love with their neighbor at Broxbourne, Lord Abaline, at the tender age of seventeen.
Of course, this was long before Miss Sabine Groves, the baron’s future widow, had ever become a problem for Isadora. The hateful woman had managed to maneuver her way into the baron’s good graces years later. By then, Isadora had managed to become numb to everything that had occurred before.
Nevertheless, the first time she’d met Lord Somers and Lord Blakely at the theatre in London, and the latter’s ex-mistress had been invited to gain an introduction, Isadora had stiffened upon finding it was Lady Abaline. She detested the vile woman, because she knew that, had Isadora found a way to convince the baron to marry her all those years ago, he would have been spared the horror that was his second wife, and the woman who would ultimately lead to his demise. Although Isadora had done her best to prove that Sabine was responsible for Lord Abaline’s death, thus far she had come up empty handed. It was one of the reasons she had intended to travel to Broxbourne when her business had been concluded in Newcastle. She wanted to search for further proof of Sabine’s misdeeds.
Isadora turned around on her other side to get more comfortable, but it didn’t stop her chest from aching. It had been years since she’d allowed herself to think about the baron.
Udell Bennett, Baron Abaline, had been her father’s good friend and was a frequent guest at Broxbourne House when the Bevelstroke family was in residence. He’d had grown children by the time that Isadora had started to take a particular fancy to him. He was kind and treated her as something of a grandfather figure. And considering her own father was too busy marryingand having more daughters of his own, Isadora felt like she was being pushed to the side—forgotten.
After the baron’s children had moved out of the estate, Isadora would often visit him and his first wife. She believed now that he enjoyed her company, because it helped ease the emptiness left by his own children’s absence. When the baroness passed away, Isadora had mourned her death almost as much as the baron had. She had been the closest woman in her life who had shown her any sort of motherly attention, and Isadora had been devastated by her loss.
It was this combined grief that eventually drew her closer to the baron. She recalled quite vividly the first time they had kissed. It had been almost by accident. They had been having one of their usual conversations in the conservatory, because he knew how much she enjoyed flowers, and she’d tripped over an overturned pot. She’d tumbled into his arms. The spark had been immediate and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from lifting up on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth against his. Whether it was shock or a mutual desire that made him return the embrace, she wasn’t sure, but then he’d abruptly pushed her away with a firm refusal.
“I’m entirely too old to take advantage of an adoring girl like you, and you are much too young to have any interest in me.” His expression had turned rather melancholy. “I think you need to leave.”
When he’d ordered her to go, she had cried and begged to stay, but he believed that he was doing what was best for her—perhaps for both of them. But Isadora hadn’t been able to leave things at that. She almost became obsessed with her need to see him. She wrote him every day and rode her mount to the top of the hill that overlooked his estate. She couldn’t accept that he had forgotten her.
A sennight later, the duke instructed them all to pack up and return to Canterbury. Panic and desperation sent Isadora fleeingout of the house the night before they were meant to depart. She’d climbed the tree that grew outside the window where she knew the baron slept and slipped inside his chamber. She was in his bed and things had nearly reached their completion before he realized what was happening. By then it was too late.
