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The baron had wept when the deed was done, but instead of offering to marry her as Isadora had been hoping for, he had begged her to go and never return.
She never had.
The memory of those sobs constricted in Isadora’s throat even now, as she recalled the heartbreaking days that had followed, when she’d gotten her courses and knew that she couldn’t coerce the baron to marry her out of duty because of a child. Those miserable weeks and months followed, where the only reprieve she could find was in her father’s study, where the ledgers could keep her mind occupied for a brief time.
Until they consumed her completely.
Isadora rolled onto her back and imagined that the tears were falling down her temples and trickling into her hair. But as always, her eyes remained stubbornly dry. Her sisters and everyone else believed that she didn’t have any emotions, that she was cool and composed, but the truth was, she was the only one who had experienced true and abiding loss. Even her father’s death hadn’t been the same, crushing weight as that night the baron had told her to leave.
She vowed right then and there that she couldn’t survive another devastating heartbreak.
And she intended to ensure she never did.
When she’d made the mistake of kissing the marquess at the castle, she’d known she was treading dangerous waters, but she had wanted to prove that she no longer possessed the same feelings that she’d long held for the baron. The problem was, when she had pressed her lips to his, she believed she might have recounted those few stolen moments with the baron, but herthoughts had been completely awash with nothing but the marquess. That was why she had run away, but then she’d realized it was difficult to escape from your own emotions.
Isadora rolled onto her stomach and bunched her pillow up beneath her. She was a strong, independent, woman.
Nothing would break her ever again.
Chapter Ten
Remington knocked on Lady Isadora’s door the next morning. He waited patiently for her to answer, and when she did, the first thing he noticed was her face. Her complexion was more peaked than usual, as if she’d passed a fitful night, even if her hair and attire were neat and orderly as a pin.
“Are you well, my lady?”
“Of course.” She clasped her hands in front of her, and he wondered if it wasn’t some sort of protective instinct. “Why do you ask?”
He shook his head, finding it best to leave it alone. “No reason.” He offered a slight cough. “I was feeling a bit under the weather this morning and wondered if perhaps you might be experiencing the same symptoms.”
She relaxed visibly. “No complaints here, my lord. I do hope that you start feeling better as the day progresses.”
“I’m sure I will,” he murmured. He glanced around the room and saw her trunk at the end of the bed. “Are you all packed then? I spoke with the coachman and I think we’ll be heading out soon.”
“Ready and waiting, my lord.”
He grinned. “I’m glad to hear it, soldier.”
She smiled slightly at the jest and he led her down to the taproom where they ordered some food to go.
They were rolling away from the inn a short time later with a solitary companion. It was the older woman that the marquess had chatted with previously. “Good morning,” he greeted the woman.
The lady smiled back warmly. “Good day. I hope you had a good night’s rest.”
“I did, indeed. Thank you for inquiring. I hope your night passed in the same easy manner?”
“At my age, you never sleep that restful anymore.” She patted her hip. “Too many aches and pains to keep you up.”
He smiled, as Isadora spoke up. “Surely there is some sort of ointment that you can procure from the apothecary. Advancements in medicine are being made every day.”
“I have no doubt of it,” the woman agreed. “But I do just fine with a bit of walking before bed and my evening prayers.”
He glanced at Isadora and saw her tried to hide the smile that wanted to emerge. He could tell she liked this forthcoming woman. He decided that when she reached her age, Isadora would have the same sharp demeanor.
Rem had never been to Scotland, so he didn’t really know what to expect as they crossed the border, but it all looked the same as it did in northern England. In an aside to Lady Isadora, he said, “I thought Scotland would look a bit… different.”
“Oh, you won’t find too much difference until you get as far north as the Highlands.” He looked over at the woman who was wearing a nostalgic smile. “They are full of spacious, green glens, rugged mountains that match the men who roam them, and deep blue lochs that have mystical qualities.” She sighed, and then said, “You’ll also find that the population in Scotland isn’t quite assettled as that in England. It will definitely be a change if you are used to the bustle of London.”
“Actually, I prefer the solitude of the country,” Isadora spoke up. “I grew up in Canterbury on the opposite end of the English coast, and I enjoyed riding and long walks around the countryside. And I especially liked the gardens.”
