A dreadful blush scorched Isla’s cheeks, her ears burning from his crude language. Frustration and anger and helplessness mounted in her chest, that trembling spreading from her legs to her abdomen to her hands.
Tears clogged her throat. Why, why, WHY as a woman must emotion coalesce in tears? Why couldn’t she scream her rage and pound her fists in fury like a man?!
Instead, she bit the inside of her lower lip, willing back the sting in her eyes. Anything to stop the rising flood. Were it to overtake her, she wasn’t sure she would survive.
She stared at her brother, praying, hoping she could unearth some vestige of the kind heart she knew he had once possessed.
“Piers,” she said, his given name emerging on a tremor.
The name she hadn’t used since he assumed the dukedom.
The name he wore when last he loved her.
He recoiled. Not much, but enough for Isla to see his Christian name had landed with athwack.
“Please. You once loved me. You once cared about me and about my happiness—” Her voice cracked. A single tear broke loose, splashing on her cheek. “I need your help, Piers. I made a terrible mistake, one I have regretted for years. Please.”
Gray made a dismissive noise, giving her his profile. “Marry in haste, repent at leisure . . . isn’t that how the saying goes?”
Another tear fell.
“Piers, I know that my reputation is potentially damaged. Long ago, you, Matt, and I promised to be one another’s support. To never turn our backs on one another. I have tried to be that for you. I have been your hostess during the Season and tended your household. But now, I need your help in return. If anyone could find a way out of this debacle without the news of my divorce landing in the gossip rags—without it becoming public knowledge—it would be you. Please.”
She wasn’t above begging for her future. For the woman she wished to be.
“That kiss was not one of regret, Isla.” Gray still didn’t look at her. “That kiss was a homecoming, not a departure.”
“And what if it was?!” She threw up her hands, crying in earnest now. “It doesn’t matter. I want Malton Hill and her people. I don’t want a future with Tavish Balfour!”
“Poverty, you mean. You don’t want a future ofpoverty. The man, however . . . I think you would happily take him if you could have your dowry, too . . . which will never happen as long as my heart continues to beat.”
Isla struggled to draw air. The trembling had reached her chin, causing her words to warble.
“H-he is essentially a s-stranger, Piers.”
“And how well did you know him before you married? His prospects haven’t changed, Isla! He might be an earl’s son, but that is all he has to recommend himself.”
“Please, Piers. If you can find even a single thread of love for me—”
“Bah!” He looked out the window once more, giving her his shoulder and dismissing the rest of the conversation.
Isla wept . . . silent, fat drops of despair.
That frightening tremor of panic and anxiety rose again, banding her lungs and making it difficult to draw air.
She fought to tamp it down, to avoid sinking into the morass of sorrow and pain and fear she could sense rolling toward her. That immense wall of water and churning debris that would see her subsumed into grief.
Pressing a hand to her stomach, she fought to breathe.
The carriage rolled on, tackle clanking.
Gray’s hand flexed atop his walking stick—once, twice—the inset ruby of his ducal signet ring flashing. A small but potent symbol of his complete power over her.
Finally, he looked back to her, his gaze moving dispassionately over her face. Utterly unmoved by her distress.
“You plead for my love and forbearance, Isla.” His tone was as chilly as his expression. “But I am not the one who has been inconstant here. I have long considered your future and your happiness. You have always had my support, more than you can comprehend. Despite your bastard status, I have safeguarded your dowry and ensured you are luxuriously clothed and housed and given every opportunity afforded a lady of your station. I have run off fortune hunters—Tavish Balfour being merely the first of a long string of them, I assure you—and made contacts with every eligible gentleman in theton. I have ignored the lowly stench of your birth and refused to publish my father’s letter. Instead, I have labored for years to ensureyourhappiness and well-being!”
“I am th-thankful for—”
