Lady Bedford closed her eyes, her hands clutching at the glass. “The ton’s whispers will tear her apart. Lord Pennington will be the only choice she has.”
“No,” Isaac spoke without hesitation, his thoughts centering on Christina. “There is a way to save her from him. To save her reputation and to soften the rumors of scandal, if it should occur.” He looked straight back at Lady Bedford, seeing her eyes widen as she realized what he was about to say. “I will marry her. The truth is, Lady Bedford, I have been in love with your daughter for the last two years. It is too long an explanation to tell you why we were set apart and why I did not reach this moment before. You cannot know the depths of my regret that I did not pursue matrimony before now.”
Lady Bedford stared at him in stunned silence. No doubt it was a shock for her to hear such things from his lips, but Isaac had no time to linger on her astonishment.
“We must act quickly if we are to prevent her from falling into further disgrace and from being forced to wed Lord Pennington. Where would he go with her?”
“Perhaps he has a Special License,” Lady Wickton suggested faintly.
Lord Wickton shook his head, pressing a hand over his eyes. “No. A Special License requires the Archbishop’s own signature, and weeks of arrangement beforehand. He could not have one in hand.”
“Then where?” his wife asked, as Isaac’s stomach dropped. “To Scotland?”
“Yes.” The weight of that sank heavily over him, making his feet sink into the floor. “That is precisely where he will have gone. I should have thought of it earlier, but now… ” He looked around the room. “There is no time to waste. If you will permitme – for I know she is your sister and I am no relation – I would like to ride out after them.”
Lord Wickton rose to his feet. “I will attend with you. I must.”
“We will have to ride,” Isaac replied, making for the door. “They will have taken the shortest route, but in time, I think we will be able to catch them.”
Lady Wickton rose and embraced her husband as Isaac paused at the door, seeing the way Lord Wickton held his wife close. How much he ached to have Christina back in his arms! How much he longed to have her safe with him again!
“Thank you, Wickton. Thank you, Lord Coventry.” Lady Bedford’s voice cracked as she spoke, but her eyes were filled with hope, her hands clasped in front of her. “Godspeed to you both. I will pray that you will succeed.” Her eyes closed, a single tear falling to her cheek. “Please, bring my darling Christina home safely.”
Isaac nodded once, his heart hammering in his chest as he stepped out into the hallway with Lord Wickton on his heels. He had to find her, had to return her to this house and to his arms. Gritting his teeth, he strode towards the front of the house, his determination growing.
I will not fail her.
19
The fire, which had been lit, did nothing to warm Christina as she eyed Lord Pennington, dread curling in her stomach. He stood by the door, watching her with cold, calculating eyes that ran fear right through her veins. Fear was what had kept her awake as the carriage journey had continued; fear had sent her thoughts racing as she had battled to find a way to escape him.
It had been to no avail.
Lord Pennington's knife had already been used against her once. When she had refused to step out of the carriage and to make her way into the inn as he had directed, he had not hesitated. The cut to her upper arm had not been deep, but had shown her clearly that his threats were to be taken with great seriousness. She believed now that he would do whatever he had to in order to make her his wife.
"Now that we both have eaten, we can talk of other matters." His eyes darted to a bowl of water that sat on the small table by the fire. "This water is to clean your arm."
Christina's pulse quickened as he stepped closer, his gaze lingering on her arm where he had set the knife.
"You have no clean things, I know, but that will all be arranged once we are in Scotland."
Saying nothing, Christina lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. With every step he took, the room seemed to constrict around her, confining her like the walls of a prison.
"Do you truly believe that your silence and stubbornness will do you any good?" He chuckled mockingly, making her face flame with heat. "My intentions will not change, Christina. I will have you as my wife no matter your own thoughts and preferences."
There was nothing for her to say, not now. All of her begging and pleading had led to naught, and she was not about to waste her time nor her words upon him. It was futile to try to convince him to do as she wanted. Her only hope lay in the fact that he had not noticed Sarah's disappearance. With all that had occurred, he had seemed to forget that the maid had, at one time, been present but now was gone from their company.
"I will not marry you." Her voice was quiet but steady — the refusal of a woman who had run out of arguments but not resolve.
Lord Pennington snorted, shaking his head and then stepping back from her. "So you keep saying, Christina. But recall," he continued, reaching for the door handle, "whilst I may have some patience and indeed, some tolerance for your attempts to stand against me, I am not above using more persuasive methods, if required."
Despite her intention to show no weakness, Christina flinched, his words a cold, sharp reminder of the knife that had already struck out at her.
"I see my meaning is clear," he murmured. "I think I shall leave you to your thoughts for the night."
The door closed. The click of the lock rang through the room like a death knell.
"No!"
