Chapter Fifteen #2
Her contained manner vanished as her mouth dropped open. “It cannot be possible to conceive a child so quickly.” Isabella rubbed her fingers furiously across her brow. “It was the first time. Well, first and second time,” she finished lamely.
“Once is all that is needed. Catherine was born nearly nine months to the day after I wed Emmeline.”
Isabella refused to be intimidated. She cast him a stern look, hoping to convey her determination against being manipulated into amicably bowing to his authority. “That still means nothing. There certainly is time to wait and see if there is a child before we discuss what is to be done.”
She astonished herself with her calm response.
Inside, the terror had taken a deep hold on her emotions.
Buried in the deep recesses of Isabella’s fantasies existed the longing to bear a child for Damien.
But facing the actual possibility of a baby brought only a sharp pang of fear.
It was wrong to use a child to hold a husband.
“We should marry immediately,” Damien insisted, somehow sensing a weakness.
Isabella was frightened, but not convinced. If there was to be a child, then there would be no choice but marriage. But until she knew with certainty that she carried Damien’s babe within her body, she refused to consider it.
Isabella knew firsthand the pain of a loveless marriage. She had witnessed for too many years her mother’s unhappiness and her stepfather’s bitterness. She didn’t want that kind of life for herself. And perversely she did not want that for Damien. They both deserved better.
Proudly she lifted her head and announced with brutal honesty, “I will only marry for love.”
A long silence stretched between them while he stared at her. His jaw clenched, and his expression hardened.
“My marriage to Emmeline was considered a success by society’s standards,” Damien finally said.
“We led separate and very different lives. Yet it was not a particularly satisfying arrangement for either of us. I believe a large part of our mutual unhappiness existed because Emmeline and I entered into the marriage with very different expectations. I would not want to make that same mistake with you.”
Damien reached out and brushed a wisp of hair back from Isabella’s cheek.
“You’re a romantic. I never suspected.” A mere hint of a smile crossed his handsome face.
“I respect you, Isabella, and I confess I have a great fondness for you. But I cannot, in good faith, make the kind of promises of romantic love you require.”
“Then I cannot marry you,” she whispered softly in an anguish of yearning.
All other feelings faded away, and for one endless moment Isabella was filled only with regret. The earl sighed loudly and turned his head. Silently Isabella studied his taut profile, desperately wishing she could read his thoughts, understand his emotions.
“Please try to understand,” she said softly. “I could never accept the fact that you would be marrying me without love.”
The raw emotion in her voice told him beyond a doubt that she was being honest. Still, he was shocked to discover the idea of losing her was simply intolerable.
“I still insist we marry,” Damien stated firmly.
“And I insist there is no need,” Isabella replied, wanting to cry. She knew she should be proud of herself for holding fast to her convictions. A loveless marriage was truly hell on earth. Yet, despite all her noble affirmations, all she really felt was utter loneliness.
“Damien! Where the bloody hell are you, man!” Jenkins burst unexpectedly into the dining room, his face flushed with color. “You’re not going to believe what I have just seen,” the valet proclaimed as he crossed the room.
For one hysterical minute, Isabella panicked, thinking the valet had discovered the missing bed linen from the earl’s chamber. Thoughts of an embarrassing scene filtered through her mind, but she soon realized that absent sheets would hardly send the unflappable Mr. Jenkins into such a tizzy.
“What has happened, Jenkins? Is it the children?” Damien’s face contorted with concern.
“Catherine and Ian are fine,” Jenkins assured his employer. He paused a moment to catch his breath. “A carriage has pulled into the drive. I swear, you will be astonished when I tell you who is riding inside.”
“How cruel of you to ruin my little surprise, Jenkins,” a strong male voice drawled from the open doorway, making his presence known.
Three heads turned in unison to view the speaker.
Jenkins looked both worried and shocked, while Damien’s steel-gray eyes darkened noticeably with anger.
Isabella looked closely at the stranger, beholding a fashionably dressed man, probably in his mid-thirties, of average height, with fair hair, a pleasant though not exactly handsome face, and an erect bearing.
Since no one had yet spoken his name, she had no earthly idea who he might be.
Damien stared incredulously at the man lounging in the doorway for several seconds before his anger exploded.
“Poole, you mangy mongrel. What in God’s name are you doing here!” The earl leapt from his chair and lunged toward the stranger.
Isabella let out an involuntary screech at Damien’s violent movement, but Jenkins apparently anticipated the earl’s reaction.
Moving swiftly, Jenkins placed himself between the two men, planting his hands firmly on Damien’s wide shoulders.
“He would like nothing better than to provoke you,” the valet whispered sharply.
“For pity’s sake, Damien, don’t give him the satisfaction. ”
Ignoring the servant’s advice, Damien attempted to move around Jenkins, but the valet successfully blocked his way.
“I give you fair warning,” Damien snapped “Remove yourself from my house. Immediately!”
“I have traveled a good distance to see my sister’s children. And I have no intention of leaving until I do.”
Lord Poole! Isabella’s eyes widened in amazement as she realized the stranger’s identity.
It was no wonder Damien and Jenkins were acting so oddly.
Looking back and forth between the earl and Lord Poole, she clearly read the smoldering animosity.
Isabella moved forward, hoping to somehow lend her assistance.
Turning toward Lord Poole, she said beseechingly, “Perhaps it would be best if you called on us another day, sir.”
At the sound of her gentle voice, Poole broke eye contact with the earl and focused his attention on the woman who spoke. He had absently noted her presence when he first entered the room, but had paid her little heed. All his attention had been centered on Damien.
Turning his head aside, Lord Poole looked curiously down at Isabella. What little color he had in his face quickly drained away.
“My God,” he exclaimed in shocked disbelief. He took a small step toward her and reached out to touch her arm. “Emmeline? Can it truly be you?”
“If you so much as lay a finger on her, Poole, I shall take great delight in breaking it,” Damien declared, his voice low and lethal.
“Emmeline?” Lord Poole repeated softly, ignoring the earl’s threats, his deep blue eyes, never wavering, fixed on Isabella.
For a split second, Isabella wished she possessed the fortitude to enact the charade. How simple life would be for everyone, she thought morosely, if she was in truth the damnable Emmeline.
“ ’Tis said I bear a distinct resemblance to your sister, Lord Poole,” Isabella replied steadily. “You are hardly the first person to remark upon it.”
Isabella threw a challenging stare at Damien. He frowned at her, the firm set of his jaw declaring his determination to neither agree nor disagree with her remarks.
Isabella had no choice but to introduce herself. “I am Isabella Browning, Lord Poole. Governess to your niece Catherine and nephew Ian.” She would have offered her hand in greeting, but she was afraid Damien would not allow it.
Lord Poole looked puzzled, and for a minute or two was quiet as he weighed the introduction heavily in his mind. Then, giving Isabella a pensive, but not unfriendly look, he asked, “Are you really the governess?”
“Yes, she is,” Damien forced out through tight lips.
Lord Poole’s hollow laugh rang out loudly. “God almighty, Saunders, only you would be perverse enough to hire a governess who is the very image of my late sister.”
“Matters of my household are no concern of yours, Poole,” Damien retorted hotly.
He definitely did not like the marked interest Poole was displaying toward Isabella.
In another moment he half expected Poole to bow ceremoniously and kiss her hand in greeting.
He doubted he would be able to control his temper if Poole actually touched her.
Shoving Jenkins out of the way, Damien stood toe to toe with his uninvited adversary. The sound of laughter died quickly as the room vibrated with their barely leashed hostility. The intense dislike between the two men was a tangible thing.
A muscle leaped in Lord Poole’s jaw, but he held his tongue. Damien’s temper burned brightly in his gray eyes, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
Jenkins scowled at the two men, knowing the slightest hint of an insult, spoken or gestured, would erupt in pandemonium. Moving close to the earl he whispered, “Remember, Damien. Keep thy friends close, and thine enemies closer.”
The valet’s words caused Damien to hesitate, then capitulate.
Jenkins was right. Lord Poole had already declared his intention to visit Catherine and Ian.
Damien knew from experience that Poole would not be dissuaded once his mind was set.
He could keep a far better watch on Poole’s activities if the man was nearby.
Yet the thought of sharing his roof with his former brother-in-law left a decidedly sour taste in the earl’s mouth.
Slowly Damien’s expression changed. He shrugged his shoulders. “If you truly have come all this way to see Catherine and Ian, I shall not prevent it,” he announced magnanimously. “In fact, I insist you stay at The Grange with us.” Damien’s smile was lethal.
Poole cleared his throat and fixed Damien with a penetrating look. “What a surprisingly civilized thing to do,” Lord Poole replied smoothly. “Naturally I shall accept.”
And then, to everyone’s mutual astonishment, Lord Poole smiled at Damien and offered his hand. Damien ignored it, but after a censoring glance from Jenkins, the earl grudgingly accepted.
“I feel certain this will be a most enlightening visit,” Lord Poole announced, his blue eyes never leaving Isabella. “Most enlightening.”