Jenkins shook his head. “Are you going to wallow in guilt and self-pity for the rest of your life to atone for this great sin? Is that why you let Poole drag Miss Browning away? Are you punishing yourself?”
“God, I hope not,” Damien replied honestly. He crossed the room and pulled one drape panel open. He stood looking out the window for several minutes. “I have nothing to offer her, Jenkins. I know Isabella left because she thought it would forestall Poole’s revenge on me. She is a noble and unselfish woman.”
“She is,” Jenkins agreed.
“I doubt Lord Rathwick would have been able to bring me to trial without a shred of evidence, but Poole certainly would have pressed him hard to prove that I murdered Emmeline. Now Poole will have to content himself with my financial ruin. I feel certain he will demand payment of the mortgages by the end of the week.”
Jenkins looked at the earl consideringly. “Can you pay them?”
“No.” Damien shrugged expressively. “I have some funds put aside, but it is not enough. I’ve tried, but have been unable to secure any additional loans.” The earl squared his shoulders. “We will have to start over.”
“Miss Browning would rise to the challenge,” Jenkins said, knowing it was true.
“It hurts a man’s pride to offer so little to the woman he loves,” Damien said quietly.
“I’d say that depends on the woman.” Jenkins’s lips tightened. He watched the earl closely, but Damien’s expression never faltered. Gritting his teeth, the valet turned to leave. “Think hard, Damien. Don’t allow Poole to take Miss Browning from you. Then he really will succeed in having his revenge.”
Jenkins shut the door quietly as he left, hoping his words would propel the earl into action. It was so unlike Damien to remain passive when challenged. He had always lived by the creed that no obstacle was insurmountable.
Apparently, the shocking events of yesterday afternoon had hit the earl hard, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Jenkins prayed he would come to his senses quickly before he lost the chance to claim the happiness he so richly deserved.
Damien drummed his fingers on the windowsill. He pushed the heavy drapes aside, and as he watched the brilliant streaks of red and gold sunlight begin to disappear from the sky, a terrible loneliness invaded his soul. Isabella was gone. And somehow he was going to have to learn to live without her. Without her radiant smile and sparkling wit. Without her unflagging loyalty and unselfish regard. Without her willful attitude and outspoken tongue.
Damien turned sharply from the window and began pacing restlessly about the room. How he wished he could ignore the pain gnawing in his chest—and deny the fear creeping into his heart. Had he made a dreadful mistake? Was Jenkins right? The question nagged at his brain, refusing to quit. Should he have asked Isabella to stay?
The future stretched before him, empty and unappealing. Damien did not doubt that Isabella held a deep affection for him. He had seen and felt her pain when she bade him farewell. Did he have the right to accept her regard? Was he worthy of her love?
He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them still. He searched his heart and his conscience and considered all he had lost. He had lost the chance to share his life with an honorable, beautiful woman. A woman he admired. A woman who made him laugh, who challenged his intellect, who fired his blood.
A woman who was affectionate and nurturing to his children. A woman who was as at ease with the maids as she was with the nobility. A woman who stood up to his temper and forgave his occasionally incorrigible behavior. A woman he loved.
Lord, he was a fool! Pride be damned. And Poole be damned too! Damien’s fighting spirit emerged. He was not going to allow his one chance at true happiness to escape unchallenged. He was going to do whatever was necessary to claim the woman of his heart.
“Jenkins! Jenkins!” Damien raced from library shouting loudly for his servant. His heart pumped with excitement as the rightness of his decision resonated through his being.
“Send someone to the stables and have them instruct Fred to saddle my horse immediately. I need to change my clothes and I require your assistance.”
“Planning a trip?”
“A rescue.” The earl grinned at his valet, then took the stairs to his dressing room two at a time. “Hurry, Jenkins,” he called over his shoulder. “The coming darkness will hamper my pursuit, and they have already been on the road for most of the day.”
A rueful smile tugged at Damien’s lips as he envisioned his quest. He was going to ride hell for leather to find Isabella and Poole. He was going to bare his heart, nay his very soul, to the woman he loved.
His smiled dimmed slightly. All he could do now was pray that she would have him.
Chapter Twenty-six
The promise of sunshine quickly faded, and the weather turned gray and dreary. By late morning a light drizzle was falling, growing steadily heavier as the day wore on.
The weather mirrored Isabella’s mood, for she soon discovered she had neither the strength nor the heart for conversation. She could feel Lord Poole’s eyes upon her, but she chose to ignore him. Yet he continued looking at her with a faintly glowering expression on his face.
Hoping to avoid him entirely, Isabella leaned her head back against the velvet squabs and closed her eyes, listlessly waiting for the residual pain in her chest to ease. It did not.
“We should be arriving at a comfortable posting inn shortly,” Lord Poole said in a brusque tone. “I shall send one of my servants ahead to ensure we have a proper selection of food prepared for our midafternoon meal.”
“Please don’t go to any special trouble on my account, Thomas,” Isabella replied. The swaying of the carriage was making Isabella queasy, and the mention of food merely increased her distress. “The last thing I wish to do is eat.”
Lord Poole edged to the end of his seat and leaned closer. “You are very pale, Isabella. I must insist that you eat a substantial lunch.”
