But it was Mrs. Hopper’s exclamation of delight that made all the difference.“While Herb and I weren’t blessed with children of our own, I daresay our daughter would have been just aspracticalas youare, Lady Isabella! A perfect way to hide in plain sight.”
Isabellahad never been fortunate enough to know either of her grandparents, but she would have liked to thinkone of them would have beenjust like herand Herb.She dipped into a mock curtsy.“Thank you.”
But while she’d gained the approval of everyone else, it was Mr. Claymoore’s final word that made all the difference.His jaw tightened visibly, but he said,“Ican see I’ve been outnumbered.” He looked at her, his gaze stern and unyielding. “Stay close and don’t wander. We get what we need and come back straightaway.”
Isabella resisted the urge to put her arms around him, although she did offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Claymoore.”
***
It was but a shortcarriage rideto the nearest village ofKingsdown, but to Isabella, it was the taste of freedom she’d been denied for days.Even if she had to endure apair of watchful dark eyes, she’d needed this brief excursion into civilization. If nothing else, it would remind her that the world continued to turn, and that someone was out there enjoying his or her life to the fullest.
“Did you know that this is where Herb and I first settled after we were wed?”
Isabella turned to Mrs. Hopper. “I did not.”
“We lived therealmosttwenty years but then moved to Deal,” she noted. “I normally gotherefor provisions, as they have a better selection of fish,butit’s also known as one of the main smuggling ports these days and doesn’t always have the best reputation. Herb and I go therequitefrequently,butnewcomers are specifically noted,soI decided it was best to avoid that particular route.”
Isabella was struck with her first twinge ofconscience. “Iappreciate your consideration, Mrs. Hopper. I certainlydon’t intend to cause anyfurthertroublefor you.”
Ethel waved a hand. “I daresay it will be nice to see some familiar faces, as it’s been several months sinceI’vebeen here.And on Saturdays they have a particularly charming outdoor market.”
Once they arrived,Ridgeset theparking brake on the barouche. He helped them alight, andIsabellacouldn’t resist liftingher face to the sun,relishingthecomfortingwarmth of thebrilliantrays. But it could have been pouring rain anditwouldn’t havebothered her. Even the sound of thegullsnear the shoreline sounded sweeter.
Isabella glanced around at thequaint surroundings, the shingled cottages laid out on the sandy downs near the sea, with the chalky white cliffs of Dover to the north.It was a rather modest hamlet, but the peoplethey encountered carried easy, friendly smiles, even if Mr. Claymoore looked as if he’d bitten into a ripe persimmon.
Although thekakifruit wasn’t well known in Europe, it was quite popular in Asia, known for its botanical uses for fever, cough, and evencertainstomach ailments. Once Isabella’s father hadreadof its benefits, he’d ordered a crate from China for the kitchen gardensat his estate.As far as shewas aware, they still retained thelonetree in England.
Even with Mr. Claymoore remaining close to her side, Isabella was excited to see all the vendors lined up along the main thoroughfare, their carts showcasing everything from fresh vegetables and fruit, to fish, small game, and even various homemade items like soaps and jewelry. An older woman greeted Mrs. Hopper, and as they became engaged in conversation, Isabella continued to meander through the growing crowd.
She walked over to one stall where a particular bit of gold ribbon had caught her eye.As Isabella touched the delicate length of woven material, the lady said, “Good day, miss. Are ye interested in tha’ bit o’ ribbon? I’d be willin’ t’ make ye a good deal onit.”
Growing up in London, Isabella was used to negotiating with various shopkeepers. While most were perfectly fair and respectable, a few would charge a ha’penny more for the unsuspecting buyer. “How much?”she asked.
The woman eyed Isabella,her gaze shifting to her staid companion andquoted a price that wasmore than reasonable.“Perhaps yer gentleman friend would like t’ purchase a yard o’ two for his ledy?”
Isabella could feel her cheeks warm at the insinuation that they were a couple. She was about to refute the fact when Mr. Claymoore’s deep voiceintervened. “We’ll take four yards.”
Theseller’s eyes lit up as she measured out the selected amount. OnceRidge had paid for the ribbon and handed it to Isabella, she put it inthe concealed pocket of her skirts.As they walked away from the booth, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Claymoore, but truly, it wasn’t necessary.”
“It was my pleasure,” he returned evenly.
He led her through the assemblage with his hand onthelower part of her back. It was a simple enough gesture, but one that claimed, quite clearly, who she was with.
After several moments, Ridge said, “I don’t see, Mrs. Hopper.”
Isabellafrownedandorderedherselfnot to panic,butshe couldn’t stop a seed of doubtfromcreepingin.Ridge was convinced that Simon wasintent on capturing her,but surely hewouldn’tstoop so low as tousesomeone like Mrs. Hopperagainst her?
The very idea was sickening,andIsabella put a hand to her queasy stomach.
Her eyes darted around nervously,but thenher gaze landed on the woman that Ethel had been speaking with earlier.She rushed forward, darting between various patrons.“Excuse me,” she called out to the lady, who was in the middle of helping alocal villagerwho hadtwo small children clinging to her skirts. “Do you know where Mrs. Hopper might have gone?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t’ave any idea.”
Isabella’s heart sank. She wasn’t sureif they shouldwaitthere for Mrs. Hopper in thehopeshe would come back this way, or if theyshould continue searching through the crowd.As she turned around,that waswhen she realized that Ridge wasno longer by her side.
Anxious, she tried to retrace her steps, butthe moment she passed by a narrow alleyway betweentwo brickbuildings, someone grabbed her arm. Her breathinghitched as her back was wrenched against a solid chest, a terrified scream hovering on her lips until a strong hand clamped over her mouth.
“Don’t scream. It’s me.” Her knees weakened in both relief andfright, asMr. Claymoore’s familiar baritonedrifted to her ears.
