After a time he started tofall into the land of unsettled dreams when something disturbed him, a slight sound comingfrom the direction of theearl’s privatestudy.
Heimmediatelywithdrew his pistol and rose to his feet. He prayed it was Wistenberry so that he could put a swift end to his miserable life where he wouldn’t be a threat to king or country any longer.
But more importantly, hisdemisewould make Isabella a widow.
***
Unable to sleep, her mind too tumultuous to do anything butallowher to toss and turn, Isabella gave upthe pretenseanddecided to venture to Liverpool’s studyto finda book to read, anything totry tokeep her thoughts on something other than the factthatshe’d let everyone down—includingherself.
Claudia and Mr. Hopper’sattacksweighed heavily on hermind,even though thephysicianhadclaimedall would be well.Her maidhad even awoken for a short timeand relayed what had happened. Of course,it was no surpriseto learn that a mysterious man had jumped out and tried to abscond with her butthenshoved her to the ground when he realizedshe wasn’t his intended target. At that point, she’d struck her head on a rock.
Isabella had closed her eyes,for she’dnever felt so deserving of her fate with Simon as she had in that moment.Everything Ridge had told her had been true, but because of her need fora few minutes of indulgence, she’d compromised the safety of those around her.If she had just remained within the castle walls for one more day, her husband might now be in Mr. Claymoore’scustodyand this nightmare would be over.
She paused toclutchthe doorframe of the study, her mind whirling with guilt.Of course, her rational sidehadwanted to arguethat it was an honestlapse in judgment, a natural human error, but that was nothing but a poorexcuse.
Once she regained her bearings, Isabella walked over to the shelves of books.Although she trailed a hand along the leather spines,the titlesbegan toblur, so she walked overto the window.It had stopped raining, butthere was a certain chill that continued to permeate the stone, soshehugged herself against the lingering dampness as she stared out at the sea.
Surely there was something she could do torectifythis entiresituation. Shecertainly couldn’t juststand bywhileSimon continued to be a threatfor those she cared about, forGod only knew who he might strike at next. The possibilities caused her to shudder.
While Simonhad neverexhibited any outward violenceduring their brief time together, looking back, Isabellacould tell there was some sort of…crueldepravity lurking just beneath the surface of that coolexterior.Today proved that either his sanity was unhinged, or he trulywas a villain of the worst kind without any sort of scruples.
Then again,everyone in London,including her closest friends, had seen the warning signs whileshe’d chosen to ignore them—all for the sake of love.
She closed her eyesand dared her mind to travel back totheir wedding night,theday that hadchanged everything.
Their vows had been exchanged over an anvil,presided by the local blacksmith in Gretna Green.Isabellahad noticed Simon’s aloof behavior, but she’dcontinued to imagine that hisnerves were playing a partin his distance toward her.Nowshe realizedthat cool exterior had been in place the moment she’d climbed into his coach bound for Scotland. It was as if, bythat last act in giving herself to him, he had lost all respect for her. But she’d been so excited at the prospect of being his wife, that she hadn’t given a second thought to his reticence.
Oncehe’d procured a room at the inn, he’d ushered her inside and said he would returnshortly. Maidenly nerves had fluttered in her midsection, butshe’dtaken her time readying herselffor bed.At first she’d pulled the covers up to her chin, but since that seemed entirely too virginal, she changed position.She didn’t know how many times she’dobsessed about drapingher hair a certain way to appear the most becoming.
When he’d come intothe roomat long last, reeking of ale andperhaps even a slight whiff of perfume, her heart had lodged in her throat.She jumped as he’d kicked the door closed with his bootand started unbuttoning his trousersas he walked toward the bed.
It was overalmostasfastas it had begun.
Afterward,she’d lainthere staring at theceiling, tears stinging her eyes, and wondering how she’d been so stupidly naïve,while he stumbled to the washstand and removed the evidence of their union.
Thatwaswhensomething inside of her had broken.It wasn’t her heart, althoughthatwas certainly bruised, butratherher dignity that had taken the brunt of her shame.Shedidn’t allow the tears to fall whenSimontookpleasure in boasting about how he’d just left the arms of their serving wench in order to ‘prepare’ himself for her, because the idea of laying with her had sickened him. Thus, when he’d walked out of the room and left her alone, she’d breathed a sigh of relief that such a horrible experience wouldn’t be repeated.
The nextday,when they arrived inLondonand he’d dumped her off at the inn, she did as he askedwithout complaint, for something inside of her had gone numb. She’d told herself that she was going to close herself off, that her heart would no longer ache with such helpless abandon.Never again would she find herself in a situation where she would give everything and gain nothing in return.
Isabella opened her eyes, gripping the windowsill with her palms, asa single tear trickled down her cheek, just like that day at the inn. But sherefused toallow the others to fall. Shetold herself she was stronger than that, and God knew Simon wasn’t worth it.
The fine hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, and her breathing hitched. She was no longer alone.
Carefully, sheturned aroundandsaw ashadowed outline in the doorway. A gasp rose in her throat—until she realized that formcouldonlybelong toone person.Ridgeheld apistol in his hand, but helowered it to his side as hesaidhoarsely,“Isabella?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
He exhaled heavily, as if he hadn’t been sure she was real, orsome sort of spectral being. Helaidthe pistolon a nearby tableand walked toward her. As he drew closer,she could seeahard glint in his dark eyes, but she wasn’t certain if he was angry with her, or…something else.“What are you doing here at this time of night?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “For the same reason you’re still awake, I imagine.I couldn’t sleep.” She walked back over to the bookshelves, finding it too confining to be in this small room with his overwhelming presence hovering so close, especially when thehaunting reminderofSimon still whispered through her mind.“Icame tofind a book to read.”
“Isabella—”
She didn’t even read the title of the tome she pulled blindly from the shelf. She just held it up. “I found what I was looking for. I’ll be going now.”
Isabellatooka handful of steps before her wrist was encircled in agentle, but firm grip. Hecarefullypried the volume from herhandand read the title aloud. “A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful.” He scoffed. “I had noidea a gentlybred lady of thebeau mondewas so interested in a treatise on aesthetics by Edmund Burke.”
Shelifted her chinand removed her arm from his grasp. “How would you know?For a man who’s beendrinkingas much as you have, I should think you couldn’t perceive much of anything.”
