Isabel and the Rogue

Chapter 9

Isabel felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when the drapes were ripped open, assaulting the backs of her eyelids with the harsh light of day.

“Buenos días, se?orita,” the maid, Lupe, said as she bustled into Isabel’s connecting dressing room. “Her ladyship said you were going to be riding out this morning, so I thought the azul habit would be a good choice. What do you think, se?orita?”

Isabel grabbed a pillow and threw it over her face, groaning softly. “I don’t know why I agreed to such an early time.”

“I know why.” Lupe poked her head into the room, a large smile on her round face. “Porque el capitán es muy guapo.”

Ay, was he ever. He was also observant. Intuitive. Despite his scolds and overbearing actions, Sirius had a way of looking at her as if he really saw her—not the shy, awkward Isabel the ton knew her as, but as the Isabel her sisters knew. The Isabel she was just coming to accept. She supposed the only way she’d know for sure was to dress in the azul habit Lupe had chosen and meet Sirius for their scheduled morning ride.

Thirty minutes later, Isabel paced in front of the windows overlooking the front walk. What if Sirius didn’t come? He said he would, but after several hours of reprieve, he may have changed his mind.

A distant “Good morning, sir” met her ears.

Isabel turned to the window and brushed the drapes aside, her pulse roaring in her ears. Sirius sat astride a large bay colt, dressed in a riding coat a deep shade of blue that Isabel was certain would turn his eyes to the dreamy color of midnight. With buff-colored trousers, crisp and polished riding boots, and his gold locks glinting from under his hat in the early morning sunlight, Sirius looked almost princely. As if he were riding out to rescue a princess from the tallest tower.

Instead, he would find himself saddled with the wallflower Luna sister he felt obliged to protect in some sort of misplaced honor.

Sirius looked up then to the window she stood before, his gaze seeming to find hers. His expression didn’t change, but the weight of his stare felt heady.

Without thought, Isabel turned and grasped her crop, before looping the train of her habit over her arm and racing down the stairs. As she neared the last few steps, she slowed, and raised her chin, hoping to appear stately instead of giddy with excitement.

Evans was just opening the front door to Sirius when she stepped into the foyer, and his eyes immediately pinned her in place. Isabel flushed from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. She hoped he didn’t notice.

“Good morning.” She cringed at the low-pitched tone of her voice. “Are we ready?”

“Good morning, Miss Luna. You look well,” Sirius drawled, his manner perfectly polite, but his blue gaze twinkled in that teasing manner that used to annoy her.

Now that twinkle made her shiver.

Struggling to regain her poise, Isabel dipped her head and severed their eye contact. “Thank you, Captain Dawson. I’ve been looking forward to our ride.”

“Have you?” Sirius’s lips tipped up.

Refusing to allow him to assault her aplomb any further, Isabel tapped her crop on her thigh and advanced toward the door. “Shall we be on our way?”

Sirius extended a hand to her as she stepped over the threshold. “Yes, let’s. For I, too, have been looking forward to it.”

“No doubt so you can scold me, yet again,” Isabel grumbled as she walked by his side down the front stairs.

“Not quite,” Sirius murmured. “Although you would be deserving of it.”

After assisting her to mount her mare, Sirius led her down the street in the direction of Hyde Park. A footman played groom on a gelding twenty or so paces behind them. There was little to no traffic on the street at such an early hour, and the soft click of their horses’ hooves mingled with the rumble of supply wagons and the chatter of birds seeing to their business. Isabel was happy for the silence. It gave her an opportunity to settle her nerves. Being in Sirius’s presence had always left her a bit defensive; first because he antagonized her, then because he stimulated her, and now…well, now because he did both simultaneously.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

His voice was mild, almost polite, but Isabel sensed there was more to his question.

She cleared her throat. “I am well. I had an enjoyable evening at the ball last night.”

“It appeared so. You certainly smiled more than I’ve ever seen.”

“I had no notion you kept track of my smiles,” she shot back, glancing at him askance.

From the corner of her eye she saw the captain lift a shoulder. “They’re such rare events…and they change your face so completely, it’s hard not to pay attention.”

Isabel jerked her head about to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said.” The captain fixed his gaze on a point in the distance. “Your whole face comes alive when you smile.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbly, her thoughts in a whirl. No one had made such an observation about her before, and she was unsure how she felt about it.

“Yes, well, Lord Westhope is a friendly fellow, so I can understand why you would enjoy his company.”

“Indeed.” Noting that the path ahead was unhindered, Isabel allowed herself a moment to study the reins in her hands. Gathering her courage, she blurted, “You did not seem particularly happy that I was enjoying his company last night.”

“I didn’t?”

His tone was a shade mocking, which set her teeth on edge. “You glared at me every time I met your gaze after our encounter in the library.”

“I wasn’t glaring at you,” Captain Dawson snorted.

“Come now, I know what I saw,” Isabel said with a scoff.

“Apparently you don’t,” he said, his blue eyes sliding to meet hers, “or else you would know I was glaring at him.”

Oh. Isabel dropped her gaze, uncomfortably aware of the flush that streaked up her neck and over her cheeks. And yet his words angered her, for why should he care if an eligible, attractive man took notice of her?

“You have no reason to be antagonistic toward Lord Westhope. The man doesn’t possess a mean bone in his body.” Isabel tilted her chin as she narrowed her eyes at him. “And why should his kind attentions to me be deserving of your disdain? You’ve only ever shown indifference to me.”

He grunted even as he pulled back on his horse’s reins. The beast nickered in agitation as it came to a stop. “Indifference, you say?”

Isabel frowned. How else could the captain describe how he’d treated her for the last two years? She supposed it was true that he had been unerringly gracious when she and her sisters had found themselves unexpected guests at Dancourt Abbey…and he’d been especially kind when Ana María was abducted…and again when her parents were in danger…

With an uncomfortable pain in her side, Isabel realized that Captain Sirius Dawson had been kind and gracious to her more times than she had ever given him credit for. Every time she had spoken to him with sarcasm and barely concealed contempt, he had responded with polite teasing. Captain Dawson had never ridiculed her or mocked her, even when she had done the same to him. Shame nauseated her.

Uncertain of what to say in the wake of such a revelation, Isabel strung random words together that she hoped made sense. “You seemed to avoid me at every turn—”

“Isabel.”

She startled, her gaze flying to his.

“If I avoided you, it’s because you made it abundantly clear that you were disgusted by me. I’m a gentleman, and have no interest in forcing my company on someone who does not desire it.” The captain directed his mount a step closer to hers. “Regardless, I can’t help but be concerned for your welfare.”

Opening her mouth but discovering she had nothing to say, Isabel closed it with a snap.

“But why?” she finally managed on a whisper.

Captain Dawson cursed under his breath, before he grabbed her reins and led her mount to the side of the riding trail. It took Isabel a moment to realize they were now in the park—she didn’t even remember arriving. Apparently she had been so distracted by her tumultuous thoughts, she had not been paying attention to the landscape around her. Gracias a Dios that her mare was content to follow alongside the captain’s horse.

Moving his head to and fro, Captain Dawson surveyed their surroundings, no doubt seeing who was close by. Aside from the groom, who respectfully lingered under a tree some distance away, they were quite alone. Isabel wasn’t sure what to think about that fact, especially when he moved his horse directly beside hers. Captain Dawson stared at her quietly for several tense heartbeats, his chest visibly rising and falling on a breath.

“Why did I find you in Westhope’s study last night?”

Isabel had expected the question, but not the gentle manner in which he asked it. Not the patient way in which he looked at her now. And hadn’t she just had an epiphany about Captain Dawson’s behavior toward her? He might be a rogue, but he had never disrespected her.

“I’m sure you are aware that my sisters and I were not happy to have been sent away from Mexico, and we’ve been determined to aid the resistance in the limited ways we can.” Licking her dry lips, Isabel continued. “Well, before we left Mexico City, I received a visit from a political ally of my father’s. Fernando Ramírez. You may know that name because he used to be engaged to Ana María.”

Captain Dawson’s expression clouded. “I knew your sister had been engaged previously, but I didn’t know the man’s name.”

“Well, Se?or Ramírez had always been kind to me,” Isabel continued, doing her best not to fidget with the reins, “so I was curious when he sought me out before we departed. Padre Ignacio had told him where to find me.”

“Padre Ignacio?” he asked, his brows rising.

“Padre Ignacio oversaw my first Holy Communion, and later my confirmation.” Her memories turned wistful. “He knew how strict my father was, and through his shrewd persuasion, I was gradually allowed to spend more time at my studies, which he helped oversee. Soon, I was in the library at the rectory more than anywhere else, aside from my own bed. Padre Ignacio possessed books from all over the globe, and loved to talk about them and the new ideas they proposed. He showed me that the world was larger and more diverse than what I knew it to be in my little corner of Mexico City.”

“It sounds as if he was a bit of a father figure to you,” Captain Dawson murmured.

Isabel swallowed. “He was. He is. I still exchange letters with him regularly.”

“Lud,” the captain exclaimed, clutching at his chest, “should I assume then that your Father Ignacio knows all about the circumstances of our first meeting?”

A chuckle burst free from her mouth. “He does indeed.”

Captain Dawson hung his head in mock shame…although based on the look of chagrin on his face, perhaps there was some earnestness there, too.

She grew serious, though, fixing her gaze on the grass below. “It was Padre Ignacio who recommended me to Se?or Ramírez.”

“Recommended you?” The captain frowned. “Recommended you for what?”

“To…” Isabel dragged her eyes to meet his. “Find something.”

He leaned forward in his saddle. “What?”

Pursing her lips, Isabel studied him for a long moment, weighing her options. “Se?or Ramírez wanted me to locate anything that could be used to convince British noblemen to aid Mexico’s fight against the French.”

Captain Dawson’s brow crinkled and he tugged on his earlobe. “To blackmail them?”

Isabel raised a defiant shoulder. “If need be, yes.”

It suddenly felt important to plant his feet on solid ground, so Sirius swung down from his saddle. Leading his mount to a nearby tree, he looped the reins over a low branch, and spun about to face Isabel.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding what you’re saying correctly.” Sirius rubbed his temple. “This Mr. Ramírez—who may well have been your brother by marriage if your sister had not met Fox—wants you to steal about in the private spaces of peers of the realm to discover incriminating evidence that can be used to blackmail them. Did I get that right?”

This had to be a joke. A great lark of hers. Surely such a dangerous and important task would not have been entrusted into the hands of a young woman with no experience at subterfuge. Surely the people who set her to such a task cared about her safety and would not want her to be harmed. But why, then, would they make her so vulnerable?

Sirius wanted to put his fist through something.

“Sí, that sounds right,” she said with a prim nod of her head.

“Isabel,” he growled, stalking to where she still sat atop her mare. “What are you thinking? You have no experience conducting such surveillance or successfully navigating such delicate situations. You could be hurt.”

“As you can see, I’m perfectly hale,” she replied, patting the hand he had placed on her skirts. Sirius blinked, for he hadn’t even known he’d done that.

He willed himself to move away, but instead his fingers tightened. “Is that what happened at Tyrell Manor? Why the earl caught you in his study?”

Her eyes shuttered, and Isabel looked away. “It doesn’t matter what happened. The only thing that matters is that Ana María and Gideon found their way to each other, just as it was meant to be.”

Sirius clenched his jaw. “You have to stop this.”

“I don’t have to do any such thing.” Her expression turned mulish. “Se?or Ramírez, Padre Ignacio, and many others are depending upon me to use my access to the most powerful men in England to aid Mexico. And that’s what I’m going to do.”

A sudden thought occurred to him and he shook her skirts until she met his gaze. “And Westhope? Is that why you’re entertaining his court?”

With a growl, Isabel handed him her reins. “Will you please assist me down?”

Sirius obliged her request, ignoring the feel of her waist beneath his palms.

Once her two feet were secure beneath her and she’d shaken out the skirts of her habit, Isabel considered him archly…although her cheeks were a dark rose. “If you must know, Lord Westhope’s cousin is the secretary to the governor of Martinique. Martinique houses a French garrison, which will sail for Veracruz if called by Maximilian. I would be a fool not to exploit my friendship with the viscount to find out what his cousin shares. And I am not a fool.”

“And yet you’re acting foolish,” Sirius shot back, disdain dripping from every word.

Isabel spun away from him and walked under the canopy of a willow tree. She braced her hand on the trunk for a long moment, and Sirius could see how her shoulders shook. No doubt in fury. “Is it foolish to want to help my countrymen? Is it foolish to take advantage of my situation and capitalize on it?”

“It is if it will put you in danger, Isabel.” Sirius threw his arms wide. “Isn’t it enough that Lord Tyrell caught you in the act?” His jaw twitched. “Isn’t it enough that you came across me that night we met, when I was with—”

“I know bloody well who you were with.” Her lip curled as she looked at him over her shoulder.

Despite the anger—the fear—blazing like a wildfire through his veins, Sirius felt a pinch right over his heart seeing Isabel so discomfited by the mention of their first meeting. Was there a chance they could have become friends if their first introduction hadn’t been so scandalous?

His throat bobbed as he forced down a swallow. “I’m sorry that you met me under such circumstances. It’s little wonder you have such a poor opinion of me.”

Isabel pivoted to face him, her lip caught between her teeth. “That doesn’t matter now. What matters is you are not in a position to stop my search.”

Sirius stepped toward her, opening his mouth to deliver a rebuttal, when she held up her hand to stop him.

“No,” she cried, stomping her foot. “Don’t you see? For the first time in my life, I’ve been tasked with something important. Isabel Luna, the boring, bookish sister. Not the politically savvy Ana María or the charismatic Gabriela. Me. Only I can sneak in and out of the personal chambers of important men to find their secrets. Because no one pays any attention to me. No one seeks my hand for dances, no one engages me in conversation, no one asks to pair with me at the card table. I am a specter, so why shouldn’t I exploit that fact to help Mexico?”

“But you’re not a specter.” Sirius stepped in front of her and grasped her shoulders. “You’re dazzling. Your sisters shine…but Isabel, you’re the entire night sky.”

He had no idea where the words had come from. Sirius stared down into Isabel’s stunned gaze, certain the same surprise he saw in hers was mirrored in his. And yet the words did not taste like a lie…

“Lord Westhope is paying his attentions to you now.” He cursed how the light in Isabel’s velvet eyes went out when he mentioned the viscount, but it needed to be said. “The scrutiny upon you will be harder to avoid.”

Isabel lifted her chin. “I’ve managed it thus far.”

“I don’t think you understand the danger you put yourself in when you sneak about these grand houses,” Sirius bit out.

She glared up at him. “I assure you, Captain, that my safety is of the utmost concern for me. I would like to return to Mexico one day, preferably hale and unharmed.”

“Isabel.” He uttered her name with all the frustration he felt. “Surely there are better ways to go about accomplishing your task.”

Her mouth flattened in displeasure.

Perhaps it would be best if he tried a different tactic. “I want to help.”

“If you want to help, you could start by trusting me,” she volleyed.

“Obviously.” Sirius dipped his head, before the corner of his lips tilted up. “But…I can alert you if someone approaches. Be a distraction if one is needed. And most importantly, I can tell you what I know of these men. I possess a wealth of knowledge about the members of the ton, and with my insight, you won’t put yourself in an adverse situation for no reason.”

Sirius hadn’t exactly realized what he was offering until Isabel’s mouth gaped. Christ, why would he volunteer to work with her on this foolhardy mission when he should be putting a stop to it? What was it about this stubborn wallflower that had him rushing to make her happy?

“You would help me?” Isabel whispered, her forehead furrowed.

This was his chance to explain away his offer. To put a stop to any involvement of his.

Instead, Sirius licked his lips and said, “As long as you heed my warnings, with no arguments and no complaints, yes.”

Damn it.

Isabel took a step toward him, her hands clenched in her skirts. She practically vibrated like a tuning fork. “But why would you offer your help?”

“Because someone needs to keep you safe,” Sirius said, inclining his head, “from yourself as much as from others.”

“It’s been almost two years since I began my search, and I have been perfectly fine.” Her lips twisted in a wry sort of half smile. “Well, aside from the unfortunate incident with Lord Tyrell.”

“A very unfortunate incident, indeed.” Sirius looked down at his booted feet. “It could have been disastrous, and I don’t want you to be in that situation again. You can only claim you’re lost so many times before word begins to circulate.”

Isabel was silent, and eventually Sirius glanced up to find her staring off through the trees. “I understand I’m taking risks. I’ve considered all the ways I could be ruined or maimed more times than I can count. This is not something I take lightly, Captain. This is not a grand lark I’m engaging in because I’m bored or looking for entertainment.”

Sirius believed her. Of course he did. Everything he knew about Isabel Luna told him that she was passionate about everything in her life: her books, her relationships with her sisters, her fierce pride in her homeland.

What would it be like to have that passion turned toward h—

“I know you’re not,” he responded, more gruffly than he had intended. But Isabel did not flinch; rather, she arched a black brow with all the censure of a queen.

“But an endeavor such as this requires skill at subterfuge. Espionage.” Sirius prowled a few steps away, frustration making his hands curl. “This task you’ve been given could have serious consequences, and yet you were provided with no training. All the books in the world could not prepare you for this.”

This Mr. Ramírez and Father Ignacio took one look at Isabel, with her eager dark eyes, and knew she would do anything to be of use. Anything to help Mexico. Anything to be seen. And they could have gotten her killed for it. Rage locked his jaw.

Firm pressure squeezed around his arm, and Sirius jolted, dropping his gaze to where Isabel’s hand held him.

“Nothing and no one has hurt me yet, Captain.” Her inky lashes fluttered as she glanced between his face and where her hand held him tight. She did not let him go. “And with your help, I’m certain no one will.”

Damn right.Sirius didn’t utter the words, but an amused look touched her face, and he suspected Isabel heard the thought.

Shoving aside his misgivings, Sirius stepped back, silently mourning the loss of her touch. Coughing into a closed fist, he glanced down the riding path. “Tell me, what have you learned about Lord Westhope?”

Sirius heard the gravel crunch as he imagined she swayed back and forth.

“As I’ve said, my greatest interest in him derives from the fact that his cousin works for the governor of Martinique.”

Sirius nodded. “They are inordinately close, from my understanding, and exchange correspondence frequently.”

“How do you know that?” Isabel asked, a frown pulling on her lips.

Christ. What did he want to tell her? What was he allowed to tell her? Sirius needed to tread carefully until he could speak with Lieutenant Colonel Green. “I believe Westhope has mentioned it a time or two.” He added a shrug for good measure.

A loose curl brushed against her cheek as she tilted her head. “And have your contacts told you anything?”

“Contacts?” Sirius said questioningly.

“At the Home Office. After we learned my parents might be captured by the French, you mentioned your contacts there.” Isabel’s gaze shifted just slightly to the side. “You sent that note, through Gideon, that you had not learned anything alarming from Mexico, so that boded well for their safety.”

It was Sirius’s turn to look away. Although he had been unable to talk with Green about the situation, Sirius had other friends with the Home Office who had been able to assuage his fears for Mr. and Mrs. Luna. It had brought him a measure of relief to share such news with Fox, for he knew his friend would tell Isabel.

That she remembered his connection to the Home Office impressed him…and also made him uncomfortable. Which would not do.

That realization was like a hook pulling his spine straight. “My connections have also told me that it doesn’t appear as if Westhope is planning anything nefarious with his cousin.”

“Has the Home Office”—Isabel frowned—“been watching him?”

Sirius clicked his tongue as he scrambled to think of a response. “They will always keep tabs on anyone with a French connection…especially when France is busying itself with occupying sovereign countries.”

“Oh,” she cried, her eyes wide, “so the British government has noticed that France has occupied Mexico illegally.”

“Of course they have—”

“So they don’t care, then,” Isabel said, that damn half smile on her lips.

Dipping his head, Sirius chuckled. “As I’ve said, it’s not about caring so much as prioritizing interests.”

A bit of her heart glinted in her expression. “So the odds the British will intervene in the French conflict in Mexico remain at zero?”

Rocking back, Sirius shook his head. “The odds are never zero. But again, the British government won’t intervene unless British interests are at stake.”

“But they are at stake,” Isabel cried, throwing her arms wide. “Why can’t they see that France won’t stop at Mexico? They will bleed my country dry of her resources and wealth and people, and then use those ill-gotten gains to fund their conquests of other countries. And Britain will be on that list. How could they not be? It’s only a matter of time.”

“I know.” Sirius slid his gaze to the groom waiting down the path, desperate to look at anything other than the helplessness in her eyes. “And I suspect those in power know this as well.”

He could hear her throat work on a swallow.

“So what is there to do? Is there anything to do? Will they only be convinced once French forces arrive on the shores of Kent?”

“I don’t know.” He canted closer to her, his arms shaking with his desire to reach out and comfort her. “But let’s focus on what we do know and what we can control.”

“Of course,” she whispered, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

“What are your plans for this evening?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Isabel’s eyes widened before they glazed over in confusion. “Oh. Um…I’m not—”

“Do you know if you received an invitation to the Fairchild dinner party?”

“I’m not sure. Should we have?” she said, frowning.

“I’m certain you have,” Sirius said, tapping his crop against his thigh, “because Mrs. Fairchild is on friendly terms with Lady Yardley.”

“Right,” she said simply, her brows stitched together. “The viscountess has many friends, and I often struggle to keep track of them.”

“Understandable. But then it would behoove you to know,” Sirius said, dropping his voice as he took a small step closer to her, “that Mr. Fairchild owns various silk production mills in Lyon.”

It took a second for Isabel to understand the import of his words, but he chuckled when she gasped sharply. “He does? Surely then that means he has contracts with the French government for silk. Right?”

“His company does.” Sirius nodded. “From my understanding, he has several different contracts with the Napoleonic government, not only for silk, but for wool and carpet, too.”

Sirius knew this because a fellow Home Office agent was monitoring Fairchild’s activities.

“Goodness,” Isabel whispered, her eyebrows high on her head as she gazed unseeing at a point over his shoulder. “But if he has so many lucrative connections with the French government, why does he live here in London?”

“He has homes in many places. Here, obviously, but also Paris, Lyon, and an estate in Essex.” Sirius shrugged. “Fairchild just so happens to be here in London now. I wager it’s because of the wool contract he has with the British military.”

Isabel dragged her gaze up to his. “Thank you for telling me. I had no idea Mr. Fairchild was so connected.”

Sirius bowed his head. “I told you I would help.”

“Indeed you did.” Isabel looked back in the direction of where her groom waited. “Captain, if your friends at the Home Office were to learn you were helping me pass secrets to my compatriots, would there be trouble for you?”

No, because Sirius wouldn’t be helping her pass along secrets to Mexico. Not really. An idea was formulating in his mind, and he needed to speak with Lieutenant Colonel Green about how he could accomplish his directive while also keeping Isabel out of trouble. Surely between him and the older man, they could determine what information could be shared to aid President Juárez? For while Napoleon was not necessarily Britain’s enemy, they were certainly not friends.

Of more concern to Sirius at the moment was how quickly he had agreed to help Isabel. How his gut had clenched and his groin had hardened when she looked up at him with those piercing midnight eyes of hers. How the vanilla scent of her, the way she tucked her teeth into her lips in that endearingly demure manner of hers, masked layer upon layer of fire and grit and determination.

He was attracted to her…and that was the real risk he took by helping her. It had made him soft, in ways he had never been with any other woman. Where he’d been able to engage in casual affairs with his past paramours, Isabel deserved so much better than casual.

“We’re both taking risks, Miss Luna. With our eyes wide open.”