How dare she forsake him years ago and then attempt to sway him now, after all this time, when he was the earl and on the cusp of marrying a woman who suited him in every way. He deserved better than Beatrice. He always had. And Izzy most definitely deserved better than a husband who would betray her with the woman who had betrayed him.
Beatrice was going to have to leave.
Immediately.
Yesterday.
He stalked to the bellpull and rang for his valet.
* * *
“You seem overwrought, dearest.”Ellie frowned at the valise which had been haphazardly stuffed with Izzy’s petticoats and corsets, portions of them sticking out in odd angles. “Either Murdoch has forgotten her packing skills, or you threw half your trousseau into this valise yourself.”
She had spent the night unable to sleep, Zachary’s betrayal tying her insides in knots. Her misery had left her vacillating between tears and fury. Finally, at dawn, she had given up on all pretense of slumber and had begun packing her belongings in preparation for the morning.
The moment Murdoch had arrived at her chamber, she had requested her lady’s maid send for her elder sister. Murdoch had taken one look at her appearance—red-rimmed, puffy eyes, with circles beneath, and face pale—and had almost run to do her bidding.
“Iamoverwrought,” she said, irritatingly close to dissolving into a fit of sobs again. Since when had she been so emotional, so melodramatic, so maudlin?
This person was not Lady Isolde Collingwood, who had always been sensible and practical and calm—a feat indeed considering the eccentricities of her family. The person she had become was the mess first Arthur and now Zachary had made of her.
“Would you care to tell me why?” Ellie ventured nearer slowly, as if she were approaching a stray animal that may bite or run at the slightest provocation. “You seemed in good spirits last night when we parted. What can have happened while you were asleep?”
What indeed?
A sob choked her, keeping her from responding as she thought of Zachary making love to the widowed countess, showing her the same tender passion he had shown Izzy earlier in the day. Joining his body to another’s mere hours after they had been together, after he had vowed to be a faithful husband. This betrayal, in a sense, was far deeper than Arthur’s had been. She and Arthur had never been intimate.
“Izzy?” Ellie’s worried face was before her. “Won’t you say something? Tell me what has happened to upset you so.”
She inhaled slowly, gathering her words. “I saw him.”
“You saw who, darling?”
“Anglesey,” she said, for his given name on her lips felt like a lie now, after what she had witnessed. “Last night when I left Criseyde’s chamber, I saw him kissing the widowed countess.”
Ellie gasped. “What? Are you certain? Surely you are mistaken.”
She shook her head. “I am not mistaken. The countess is the only lady in residence who is dressed in mourning for her husband. And I would recognize Anglesey’s tall form and golden hair anywhere. They were kissing, Ellie, and then he took her hand and pulled her into a bedchamber.”
Saying the words aloud gave voice to the betrayal. And although she had endured the last few hours with thoughts of nothing else roiling in her mind, her acknowledgment of what had happened felt akin to a blow.
“Oh dear,” Ellie said weakly, biting her lip. “That does sound incriminating indeed.”
“I cannot marry him now,” Izzy told Ellie, resolute. “Not after what I saw.”
“I do not blame you for feeling as you do.” Her sister squeezed her hands. “Come and have a seat and we shall chat this through.”
Of course Ellie was being calm. She was Ellie. Her mind worked in a different manner than Izzy’s and it always had. Ellie adored science. She had been working on inventions with their father for years. She would want to break this matter down and make a plan.
However, Izzy was not calm. Nor did she want to sit and serenely chat about how it had felt to watch the man she had begun falling in love with kissing another woman.
“No,” she said, feeling panic set in. “I do not need to chat anything through, Ellie. I need to leave.”
“You cannot simply leave,” Ellie pointed out. “Your wedding is in days. Mama and Papa will wonder what has happened. So, too, will everyone else. Have you spoken with Anglesey?”
“I have not. There is nothing I have to say to him.” The mere thought of seeing his lying, deceiving, handsome face and his cursed dimple, of him calling her darling or trying to persuade her she had somehow been mistaken, made her want to retch.
“You must at least give him the chance to explain what happened,” Ellie argued, her frown deepening. “I will own that he has something of a reputation, but I cannot believe he is so lacking in morals that he would take a lover beneath this roof when he is going to marry you in days.”
