Chapter 16
The letter weighed heavily on Isaac’s mind as he strode through town, the shops on either side of him calling out with their wares and delights, but he heeded none of it.
There was no interest in what they sold, no consideration of what they could offer him.
There was only one thing sitting heavily upon his mind.
The note.
It was so very cold and cruel that, when he had first read it, his whole body had turned to ice for a brief moment.
He had seen the fear in Christina’s eyes, had seen how frightened she had been of what would happen next should she dare to continue with their connection.
He had wanted to cry out to her, to hold tightly onto her and beg her not to give in to the dread that clearly captured her with such strength — but there had been no need.
When she had kissed him, it had been both a promise and a cry of defiance.
Finally, they were one together in all of this, determined now to stand as one as they faced this foe.
A foe no longer invisible.
The conversation the previous afternoon had not been one of discovery but of reckoning.
George’s testimony, signed and now locked safely in Christina’s own writing desk, had named Lord Pennington plainly.
The threatening letter had only completed the portrait.
What had remained to be found was not the culprit but the motive, and Christina’s inheritance had supplied that with the grim precision of a key fitted to its lock.
Twelve thousand pounds — the dowry of a woman Pennington had once danced a quadrille with and imagined, perhaps even then, that he might possess.
He had watched her through two years of silent waiting, patient as a trap.
And now, his patience exhausted, he had written threats in plain language.
Isaac’s stride quickened. It had been Christina’s thought, in the end, not his — to force Pennington’s hand by appearing unshakably together in public.
His own instinct had been to ride to Pennington’s lodgings that very hour and demand an accounting.
But Christina’s plan had a clarity his did not.
If they acted quietly, with the testimony held in reserve, they could end this without the public spectacle Pennington had designed his cruelty to provoke.
A confrontation shaped on their terms. Not his.
Trying to settle such thoughts out of his mind, Isaac swallowed hard and set his steps in the direction of Gunters.
That was where he was to meet Christina, where the ton would see him sitting with her and would note his clear interest. That would be all through society by the evening, he had no doubt, would reach the ears of Lord Pennington also.
Let him hear of it. Let him feel, for once, that he was the one outmaneuvered.
Blowing out a slow breath to quieten his nerves, he kept his head high and walked with purpose, letting his gaze dart here and there but without settling on anyone.
“Brother?”
A familiar voice pulled his attention away from his thoughts. “Ah, Emily.” He paused briefly, his hands curling into fists as he battled to keep his expression steady and composed. “Good afternoon. If you will excuse me, I – ”
“Where are you going on such a fine afternoon?” Lord Kinsley beamed in obvious pleasure at seeing him, beckoning for him to join their small, gathered group. Reluctantly, Isaac did so, telling himself that he would only linger for a few moments.
“I am to go to Gunters.” Isaac forced a smile, looking around the small group of gentlemen and ladies.
“I cannot stay long, I am afraid.” His heart kicked with a sudden, sharp awareness as he took in Lord Pennington’s face, having not expected that the fellow would be in town.
“I shall have to excuse myself in a few minutes.”
“Gunters?” One of the other ladies present smiled at him and tilted her head. “Are you to take an ice alone, Lord Coventry? That would be quite lonesome, I am sure.”
Isaac forced a smile to his lips and inclined his head, his pulse racing as he noted Lord Pennington’s eyebrows dropping low. “Your concern is most appreciated, Lady Hannah. I am not to be alone, no.” Fear clawed at his heart, but he spoke anyway, forcing them out. “Miss Oldham is to join me.”
A murmur of surprise ran around the group, with Emily taking his arm for a moment, happiness shining in her eyes.
“That is wonderful, brother,” she murmured, very softly indeed. “I do hope that your meeting goes well.”
“I am sure it shall.” With a smile, he turned back to the group. “You will have to excuse me, I am afraid. I must – ”
“I was quite certain that Miss Oldham was set upon someone else.”
Isaac blinked in surprise, noting how Lord Pennington’s jaw had tightened. “I beg your pardon?”
The gentleman shrugged. “I am only saying that I was sure I heard a whisper about her attachment to another gentleman. I do hope you are not about to be disappointed, Lord Coventry… or that she is not one of those young ladies who likes to tease gentlemen such as yourself.”
Those words, spoken in a large group of gentlemen and ladies, were clearly meant as a slight against Christina.
Isaac’s heart rang with anger, a tremor juddering through him as he held Lord Pennington’s gaze.
Was that mockery in his eyes? An arrogance?
There were some wide-eyed looks from some of the ladies, their glances to one another saying more than they ever could.
Any remaining sliver of doubt Isaac might have carried into this encounter fell away in that instant.
A man who had done Christina no wrong had no cause to snipe at her in public with such evident relish.
But a man who had orchestrated her grief, who had spent two years patient for her to break toward him, who had watched that design collapse as she turned instead to the very gentleman he had worked to remove — such a man, denied his prize, would find it intolerable to watch Isaac claim her in daylight.
Pennington’s mask had been made of patience. Patience had run out.
His stomach churned, and he fought the rising tide of fury that threatened to crash over him and carry him away.
Lord Pennington was perhaps unaware that Christina had shared the note with him.
He might not expect Isaac to have any awareness of it, and Isaac had to maintain his composure even in the light of his upset.
“I do not think I have heard of such a rumor,” he said, as mildly as he could.
“I myself am never inclined towards listening to gossip.” With a sniff, he waved one hand vaguely in Lord Pennington’s direction, as if he was shaking the words right away from in between them both.
“I think it rather poor to accept the whispers of society as truth. I would never allow myself to base my thoughts or opinions about someone upon what is spoken behind their back. To believe without question and, worse still, to express them to others speaks of a weakness of mind, I think.”
Lord Pennington’s face paled, his eyes sharpening a fraction.
“Oh, I quite agree,” Lord Kinsley remarked, slapping Isaac hard on the shoulder. “Go, then, do not permit us to hold you back from Miss Oldham.”
Isaac nodded, excused himself, and with fire still heating his lungs, stepped away.
His only thought was to get to Christina, to reach her first, and to share with her all that had taken place.
This was the part he did not like, the part he feared – for what now was Lord Pennington going to do?
He had already made one vague threat against her reputation, but would he now do more?
His stomach twisting, Isaac hurried along the road towards Gunters, his heart pounding and hands sweaty.
No matter what followed, he was determined to make Christina his wife, to secure her future with happiness and contentment – he only feared what sorrow and pain Lord Pennington might try to inflict in the meantime.