“Know this,” he began, the intensity of his gaze hadn’t abated one bit. “You are not alone.”
How seductive his words. How easily she could slip inside them. Resolve stiffened her spine. “In this, I am.”
Only she could make matters right.
Without another word, Isabel crossed the room and stepped onto the loft ladder before she could think better of it. Before she could flee in the other direction, into Percy’s arms, and let the world fall down around their heads, as long as they held each other.
But it couldn’t be. Montfort wouldn’t let it. The man must be dealt with.
Just before her head dipped below the floor, she remembered one final wifely duty. “Don’t forget. The Duchess expects you to make yourself available in the tent for the dance. I believe a good number of matrons expect to be swept around the dancing floor by the dashing Lord Percival Bretagne.”
“Of course.” His dark eyes held hers. “Wife.”
A sob choked in Isabel’s chest as she broke from his gaze and continued her descent. She would never be a wife to him.
This idea, sparked by Papa’s words, would guide her. It would either succeed or make matters worse. There was no in-between. But no longer could she pursue the path she’d started, or remain Montfort’s pawn. It wasn’t the way Papa would wish to obtain his freedom. He was an honorable man. It was time she acted like his daughter.
Still, worry nagged at her. It was possible she was about to make the worst mistake of her life.
No.She was a rose. It was time she used her thorns to protect those she loved. She was going to save a man worth saving. Even if he didn’t understand his worth, she did.
What she was about to do wasright. Montfort must be stopped. She wouldn’t do the bidding of an evil man any longer. She wouldn’t allow Montfort to destroy the man she loved.
And what of her family?
Her feet clicked across the herringbone brick stable floor. Their savings were stowed in her travel bag back in Rosebud Cottage. It wasn’t much, but enough to start, again. She, Eva, and Ariel would find their way. Through thousands of years of persecution and flight, her people always did. It was their strength.
But her heart . . . would it find its way, too? It was a question she would face another day.
Today—now—she had Miss Fox to find. Yesterday, she’d sensed doubt in the woman, doubt which had led her to reveal Montfort’s plan to Isabel, who now had every intention of exploiting the woman’s ambivalence and using it to her advantage.
Failure wasn’t an option.
Chapter 27
Beneath the tent, the shadows of candlelit globes dancing happily across its white ceiling and illuminating the assembled below, Percy offered a smiling bow to his third partner in as many country reels, escorted the matron to a group of women giggling like the young lasses they once were, and stepped off the dancing floor, no intention of partaking of the waltz. His role as future master of Gardencourt had its limits.
His face a mask of civility, he scanned the premises for Isabel. No sign of her. He’d made a mistake by letting her go. But he’d only been half dressed when she’d hurried away, and he hadn’t seen her since.Blast.
He spotted Lucy, approaching. The false curve of his mouth transformed into a genuine smile before faltering with misgiving.
Earlier, he’d lied to Isabel. He wasn’t at all certain he and Lucy’s nascent relationship was durable enough to weather the scandal Montfort planned for publication in theLondon Diary.
Whatever last joyful moments Percy could get with his daughter, he would take. They might have to last a lifetime.
But what choice had he? His quest for revenge was petty compared to Isabel’s needs, those of life and death.
“Lucy,” he began when she stopped beside him, “I must exact a promise from you.”
Her eyes narrowed with wary curiosity. “Yes?” she asked on a slow syllable.
“You must pledge not to break more than five hearts tonight.”
Her eyes rolled toward the tent ceiling. “Any young man foolish enough to get his heart broken by me after one dance isn’t worth worrying over.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, Father, any man for me would need to be made of tougher stuff.”
