“Goodjob,” he returnedhuskily.
As if a curtain was dropped, herhappyexpressionfaded, and she handed him back the coin. “Thank you for the temporary diversion, Mr. Claymoore.”
He grunted in reply and tucked the coin out of sight. It would likely be some time before he dug it out again.The memory of her delightwould linger,too acute to forget.
At least they would arrive at the castle today, where he wouldbe able toput some much needed distance between them.
He could certainly use a diversion.
Soon afterward, their food arrived, so he was spared any further conversation as they ate inquiet companionship.
***
Isabella wasn’t sure what had changed between her and Mr. Claymoore. Oneminute they seemed to be getting along, and the next, he’d shut himself off from her, leaving her no choice but to do the same.
If this was the way he intended for the rest of their acquaintance to go, it was going to be a very lonely, isolated stay on the coast. Granted, she had spent most of herlifetime fading into the wallpaper at society events in London, but at least she’d been surrounded by something other than this dreaded silence.
Picking at most of her food, sheeventually justshoved her plate away, any appetite she might have had vanishing with her currentdistress.
“What do you intend for us to do at the castle to pass the time while we wait for Simon to appear?”
Hedidn’t look up but kept his attention on his nearly empty plate. “Whatever you want, I suppose. It’s a vast area, so you can explore as much as you like, so long as you remain with the walls of the fort.”
She winced. “It soundslikemoreofa prison.”
This time helifted his eyes, but there was only a mocking glare within. “We’renot exactlyonholiday, Lady Isabella, although it isarather impressivestructure.”
Shedrew an invisible pattern on the wood with her finger. “And what will yoube doing while I walkin solitude?”
He ate the last of his meal and pushed his plate aside. After downing the last of his ale, he wiped his mouth with a cloth and tossed it down. “Working.” He rose to his feet and said, “We should be going. I’ll make sure that the coach is ready. Stay here. I’llreturn in a moment.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, obviously expecting her to do as he asked.
When he was gone,Isabella tapped an impatient fingernail on her mug. For allthat she lamented her current situation, whatbotheredherat the moment waswhat Ridge had said. Could it be true that a woman might enjoy the marriage bed as much as her husband?
She frowned. With her hasty excursion to Gretna Green, naturally she hadn’t had“thetalk”with her mother onwhat to expect, but even then, she wasn’tsure if Lady Ashfield would have gone into detail. The marchioness had never beencomfortable speaking of delicate matters.Then again, it was always just assumed, among the genteel ladies of theton, that marriage was a contractual bargain. The women had the benefit of a husband’s protection,andthe menenjoyedtheir extramarital liaisons with their mistresses.Whilethat was common knowledge,Isabella hadalsoheard ofwomenthat embarked on affairs,although they couldn’t flaunt their lovers like the opposite sex, andnot untilthey had done their dutyin birthing the requisite heir.
Isabella had never thought any of it wasquiteright, believingthat one shouldmarry for love, whereeverything was tied together in one neat, little package.But women like her, a spinster with little prospects, generally didn’t have that luxury, having to settle for whomever would offer for their hand.
Thatwaswhy, when shehadran away withSimon, she’dthought hehad truly cared for her, for he’d recited his vows, not just before the village blacksmith, but also toGod.He’d promised love and devotion—and within the hour had shattered her heart. Hehadprovento her that men were shallow creatures who sought to achieve their own gain.
So then…why didMr. Claymoore’s words cause her to wonderabout something more?
