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She glanced over at the marquess who was still studying her with that direct gaze. It was both alluring and intimidating, because she couldn’t decide what the true color of his eyes were. Sometimes they were soft amber, and others they were hazel with a hint of green. “I wasn’t, actually. I used to get terribly seasick whenever father used to take us sailing, but I would always recall the rhyme.” She gestured to the skyline outside the window. “The sky is quite brilliant this morning, which makes me think the rain we encountered yesterday isn’t over just yet.”
He gave a grimace. “I was afraid of that. But at least we’re getting an early start. With any luck we will make it to Dalkeith before the heavens unleash their wrath.”
Isadora had been reluctant to bring up their final destination, but since he had mentioned it, she asked gently, “Do you know what you might say once we arrive?”
His brow furrowed. “Honestly? I have no idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But I have no doubt that you, with your infinite wisdom, will be able to shed some light on how I should comport myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “You flatter me unnecessarily, but I’m afraid you are on your own when it comes to this, my lord. I might be able to give advice to my sisters, but this is not my affair to intrude upon.”
He lifted a brow. “I invited you to sit in this coach with me and you accepted. I would say that makes you an equal party.”
Isadora gave him her best ‘big sister’ look. “I can’t tell you how to handle your family.”
“They aren’t my family.” His tone was hard.
“In point of fact, theyare,” she returned just as firmly. “They are your blood relation, even if you were never around them. The least you can do is give them a chance to tell their side of things and console an old man during his last days. You may not have any feelings of loyalty, but at least you can ease your own conscience.”
Rem was doinghis best to listen to what Isadora was saying, and although he should be concentrating on the confrontation to come, all he could think about was the name she’d uttered in the middle of the night.
“Who is Udell?” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out in such a manner, but his curiosity had refused to be silent any longer. He instantly regretted his actions, for her face immediately paled.
“How do you know that name?” she whispered.
He supposed since the words were spoken and there was no going back, he might as well push forward. “You spoke his name last night in your dreams.” He decided it would be too crass to mention that she had been stroking his cock at the same time.
She turned her head back toward the window and set her delicate jaw firmly in place. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?” He leaned forward. “I should disagree.”
Her gray gaze snapped back to his, and he was temporarily taken aback by the turbulent storm clouds he saw in her gaze. “It’s none of your affair. And unlike you, I didn’t ask for your advice or council.”
Rem stared at her for an indeterminate length of time, and then he sat back slowly. “Dear God, what did that bastard do to you?”
She slammed a fist down violently on the seat next to her. It was the most emotion that he’d ever seen her display so openly. “He was nothing but kind to me. He just assumed—” She turned her head away and closed her eyes, as if praying for strength. No doubt she was carefully replacing all the bricks of the wall that surrounded her heart.
“He hurt you.” He said boldly. “You can’t claim he didn’t, because the evidence is written in your actions.”
She lifted her chin. “If I was injured, it was no wrongdoing on his part. I was naïve and should have known better than to allow my foolish fancies to overcome my common sense.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Is that how you tell yourself that he wasn’t to blame? I regret that I have to be the one to tell you this, my lady, but when it comes to a love affair, it takes both parties—”
“And what would you know about it?” she interrupted crossly. “Have you ever allowed yourself to care about someone without restraint? Until your every waking thought is about them?”
He stilled. There was a pause, where the air was filled with tension, and then he said softly, “The single woman I ever came close to caring for doesn’t return my affections, so I suppose the answer would be no.”
Her lids fluttered and she glanced away. Surely, she knew thathe was speaking about her. The minutes ticked by, until she finally regarded him once again. Her face was a careful mask of indifference. “Forgive me, my lord, for being so rude. I am generally in better control of my emotions.”
“It’s not good to hold them in all the time,” he returned quietly. “Sometimes it’s the only way to be free of something damaging to your soul.”
She smiled almost sadly. “My soul was pierced long ago. I’m not sure it can ever be repaired.”
She looked away from him again, but this time she sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the squabs. He knew there would be no more discussion, so he followed suit and leaned his head back against the seat. He knew sleep wouldn’t claim him, because his mind was whirling with what he’d learned from Isadora. She may not have been hurt in the conventional manner, but her heart had definitely been torn asunder. Unrequited love generally caused reluctance when it came to embarking on a new relationship. The same fears and insecurities were there, waiting for the right moment to strike. He knew this, because while he hadn’t felt the same war with his emotions, he had witnessed it among society.
During her first Season, his sister used to wail about the estate when she imagined she would never wed. Granted, she had been prone to dramatics, so her upset was generally fabricated. However, the tortured expressions he’d witnessed during his niece, Portia’s, come out, in the London ballrooms had been very real. The times a wallflower was overlooked or spurned by a hopeful suitor—those were the signs of true heartbreak. His chest had always felt a decided twinge of empathy, but he knew, unless he wanted the marriage minded mothers to start breathing down his neck, he had to be cautious when it came to lifting their dogged spirits.
He’d hated knowing that their souls had been crushed, their youthful fantasies crumbling to dust beneath a scoundrel’sbootheel. But what he despised most of all was that the same expression had been on Isadora’s face just now.
When the coachstopped for a late luncheon, and to change horses in the quaint, Scottish village of Oxton, the skies had blown in with the heavy threat of rain, but as yet, they had been spared from the onslaught. Isadora was infinitely grateful. She was anxious to be out of the close confines of the coach where she was forced to confront the thoughts rumbling about in her mind.
