Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Your aunt? My sister?” Gregory balked, eyes wide with shock.
Isobel nodded. “She has been acting strangely. I spotted her twice wandering around the hallways at night – one near the attic where Valerie is. And I found – I thought it best to look into her a little closer, and during my search, I discovered some sort of letter among her possessions. Whoever wrote it meant to warn Valerie, but it somehow ended up in Deborah’s possession instead.
Do you not think that is strange? I think she is responsible for Valerie’s state. ”
Her father was silent for a while, then he nodded.
“I have no reason to think otherwise. While I personally have not noticed my sister acting strange, I will trust in your deduction. Now, what remains is proof.”
“Proof? But I just said –”
“We cannot make accusations blindly, or we risk endangering the wedding if we are wrong. My sister was once a wealthy woman, but her husband’s mistakes caused them to lose everything.
She is likely doing this out of jealousy for what our family is about to gain from Valerie’s wedding to the duke.
You must find a way to keep her from sabotaging our efforts.
” He leaned in, and she could smell the wine on his breath.
“You must dig deeper, child. Engage her. Provoke her. Find something concrete. No matter what it takes, you must secure this wedding. Everything else is secondary to the integrity of the arrangement.”
Isobel felt a cold wave of disgust wash over her. Her father was shamelessly and selfishly willing to throw her into the direct path of a potential killer to secure his own financial reputation.
He is blatantly telling me to risk my life so he can line his pockets.
Before she could respond, a hand clamped down on her elbow—firm, possessive, and radiating suppressed heat. She knew the touch before she even heard his voice.
“Miss Wightman,” his voice was clipped, dangerous. “You have been monopolized by the Baron long enough. I believe this next dance is mine.”
He pulled her away from Gregory, who merely scowled at the interruption.
As Richard led her onto the floor, Isobel looked up into his face, sighing in relief as he took her farther away from her annoying father, her breath stuttering as she realized that he was upset.
His blue eyes had traded their usual sternness for terrifying anger. He wasn't just annoyed; he was enraged.
The music began, the tempo quick and upbeat, and Richard’s strong hand closed around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. The contact was so utterly distracting that it felt as though she had forgotten where she was and who she was with.
“What did he say to you?” Richard demanded, his voice low, matching the rapid beat of the music.
“You needn’t concern yourself with any of that, Your Grace,” Isobel said quickly, trying to pull away slightly.
“Tell me,” he insisted, tightening his grip on her. “Or I will go and ask him myself. You should know I have no desire to be as corteous to him as I am to you.”
Isobel had never seen him look this angry. In fact, this was the clearest expression she had seen on his face. He always seemed to have the upper hand when emotions were involved. Hardly ever showing enough of what he was feeling, and now, the wrath boiling within him was visible on his face.
“I-I merely informed him of the letter I found while searching Aunt Deborah’s room. A warning to Valerie. And then he suggested I… play a more active role in obtaining further proof of my aunt’s involvement –”
“And let me hazard a guess – the role requires you to act as bait?” Richard challenged, his dark gaze leaving her no room for denial. “I saw his face, Isobel. He is a contemptible, avaricious fool, and you will not follow his instructions. You will not risk yourself for his greed.”
“But what if he is right? What if the only way to catch her is to provoke–”
“Absolutely not,” Richard snapped. “We knew from the start that this ploy was equivalent to playing with fire. What he has asked of you is nothing less than inviting the flames into your home. And I will not let you do such a foolish thing. Mark my words –”
“Stop.” Isobel breathed, her voice quiet and cold.
Her heart was pounding so much that she could feel the force of it causing her head to throb. Why was this man being so stubborn on her behalf? Why was he so intent on protecting her, as he deemed fit? How was she meant to understand his motives as nothing but care?
“I will handle it,” she insisted, her temper flaring against the confusing proximity of their bodies and the stress of his disapproval.
“You do not have to involve yourself anymore, Richard. Adrian is here now – and he has offered his assistance. Since he is Valerie’s fiancé, this concerns him more than it does you. So… leave it be.”
Richard’s hand tightened on her waist, the pressure painful, yet thrilling. The rapidly dwindling distance between them made her tremble, her mind scattering like petals in the wind.
“Why should his assistance be the one you accept? Why do you wish to rely on him and not me?”
“Why should I rely on you when you have someone else in mind to propose to?” she blurted out.
Richard seemed fond of doing this – confusing her with his words and actions, yet he had previously stated that his interest lay elsewhere.
He had another, one he was intent on living out the rest of his life with, but he enjoyed tending to her and fawning over her as though there was something more between them.
Something she knew did not exist – at least not on his part. Not when he had decided on what his future was to hold. She needed to cut him off, to remove him from the cave he had created in her heart. To end his lingering presence in her mind.
Only the truth could set her free now.
She leaned into him during a turn as the tempo of the music suddenly dropped to something softer, as though the song was coming to an end. She spoke softly, her voice desperate and low, her eyes pleading for a necessary pain.
“Then tell me, Richard. I must know. Who is she? Who is the woman you intend to propose to? The one who meets the rigid requirements of a Dellamare Duchess that you have boasted of?”
Richard hesitated, his eyes flickering away from hers, a shadow of pain crossing his face before it snapped back to its usual controlled mask. He held her gaze, and the words he spoke formed the sharpest, most painful dagger he could have wielded.
“Miss Bridget Wightman.”
The name was like a slap across her face.
Bridget. Deborah’s rude, cruel daughter. The very woman Isobel has seen Richard regard with clear distaste, on numerous occasions. If she did not already know it, this moment confirmed that Richard had no intent to marry for anything other than duty.
And she could not stand that. He had everything he needed to live a free life, and he was constraining himself to one that will undoubtedly be bitter and loveless, in the name of fulfilling a duty no one of relevance would care to supervise.
She hated that this was the choice he had made.
The song came to an end then, gently fading with a soft tune, and the partners on the dance floor began to part. Isobel gave him one last look, not caring if her anger was obvious, before she pulled away from him and ran out of the ballroom.
Richard knew the responsible thing to do would be to let her go.
But he couldn’t bring himself to, feeling uneasy because of the growing distance between him and her retreating figure, which was growing larger by the moment.
It was not wise for her to be roaming around by herself so late in the evening, when there was a killer on the loose. A killer who had his sights set on her.
He couldn’t stand idly by while she disregarded her safety – or at least, that was what he told himself before leaving the ballroom.
The night air was cool and calm, but the crunch of footsteps against the grass cut through it crisply, and he spotted her making her way further from the house and into the garden.
“Miss Wightman – Miss Wightman, stop this instant!” he hissed at her, hurrying to catch up.
Isobel ignored him, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from snapping angrily.
“Miss – there is a killer whose sights are set on you. It is unwise to roam around so carelessly.”
“Just leave me be!”
Richard’s patience reached its limit, and he ran after her, quickly grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.
“What on earth were you thinking? How could you venture out alone so late? You are aware of the dire situation we are currently in! And you know that you are the one the killer is after! How could you be so reckless?” Richard snapped, glaring down at her.
“Do not raise your voice at me!” Isobel replied, matching his tone. “I only wanted to clear my head for a moment, and I would have been back inside by now, had you not followed me. Nothing happened. Why are you acting like this?”
Richard’s lips parted and he blurted out, “I was worried –”
He snapped his mouth shut before he could divulge more details about the unrest in his heart. But it seems the little he had said upset her anyway, because she let out an exasperated sigh.
“Stop this, Your Grace,” she told him sternly, the formal way she addressed him causing his heart to skip painfully.
“I do not know why you insist on playing these games, on pretending there is more between us when… I am going to become a nun, and you will go on to marry on behalf of your title. Our paths are very different. We need to remember that.”
Isobel’s words were like a knife to his heart, cutting jagged lines across the organ until it was a bloody, disfigured mess. Richard knew she was right, of course. But it hurt too much to echo the sentiment, and he couldn’t bring himself to verbally agree with her.
It seemed she had more to say, because moments later, she spoke up again,
“Since those are the paths we are to traverse, I would like to ask a favor of you. Please give me one night. One more night in your presence, in your embrace. One last night, and then we go our separate ways, forgetting about each other afterwards.”
This was a bad idea. Somewhere in Richard’s mind, he knew as much. But that part of him held no power and was overwhelmed by the parts of himself that wanted more of Isobel from the first moment he had tasted her.
He stepped closer to her, barely able to keep himself from grabbing her and ravishing her there and then. It seems his response was quite clear on his face, because she took a step back and said with a coy smirk,
“You will have to catch me first, Your Grace.”
And then she turned and ran away.
Just like before, Richard did not think at all before he went after her.
He allowed her to take a few steps before he swept her up into his arms and kissed her passionately.
She tasted so sweet, felt so warm and soft in his embrace.
He felt the shiver that ran through her body, excited by the effect he had on her.
Richard had tried to rule himself with a list of restrictions for when he dealt with her, willing himself not to lose himself completely to the sensations she brought him.
But he could no longer hold himself back – not when she had asked for him so bluntly. He needed to feel more of her, needed to see her bare, away from the silk that enveloped her body. He wanted to worship and admire the beauty that she was.
She kissed him back feverishly, her hands running up his chest, sighing when he nibbled her lower lip, sounding so precious, he could not wait to adore her thoroughly.
“You must do a better job of hiding,” he told her, whispering the words over her lips. “If I find you again, you will be punished.”
He released her suddenly, smirking at the way she stumbled to regain her balance.
“What are you waiting for?” he teased, tilting his head to the side.
Isobel stared at him, wanting to be clear in her eyes.
Then she turned around and ran from him once more.