The horrid man was enjoying her discomfort. She felt like pummeling him. And then he said, “I believe Mrs. Wilkes’ Tearoom has strawberry tarts.”
Isabella blinked. “I beg your pardon?” she managed.
“The tea shop over there,” he offered by way of explanation as he nodded across the street. “I saw the tarts on display in the window on my way over here and immediately thought of you. I know how much you like them, though given the time of year, they’ll be made with preserves no doubt, and not with fresh strawberries, as you would prefer.”
She never should have told him about her fondness for strawberries, for he was clearly using it against her now and with his own devious motives in mind. She had to resist, no matter how tempting the man and the tarts might be. “Unfortunately I must decline.” Something shifted behind his eyes at her refusal, but she wouldn’t be swayed and pressed on instead, determined to do what she must. “My parents will be expecting my return. Good-bye, Your Grace.”
He didn’t release his hold on her, however, and she was halted once again. When she turned her head to look back at him, she was met with a most grave expression. “Your book, Miss Chilcott,” he muttered, offering her the small parcel.
With a brief nod, she accepted the gift, his fingers brushing against hers as she did so, sending a pulse of energy straight through her. “I will call on you tomorrow,” he said, his voice deep with promise.
She shuddered, drew a ragged breath and clutched the book to her chest. He released her then, allowing her to escape, which she did, hurrying away from him at a near run just as it began to drizzle. Her heart was still pounding when she reached her house, dashing inside with one singular purpose—to reach her bedroom without having to face Marjorie or her parents. The last thing she wished to discuss at the moment was the unnerved state she was in. Why did their paths have to keep crossing like this? It was torture seeing him and knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him when such a thing was impossible. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her forget? No, she would never be able to forget him. He’d ruined her for anyone else, and when she said her vows to Mr. Roberts, she would forever carry the burden and regret of love lost in her heart. She let out a bitter sigh.Why did life have to be so bloody unfair?
Chapter 19
“You have a visitor, miss,” Marjorie announced the following morning as Isabella sat with her mother, each of them working on their embroidery.
Isabella’s heart jumped. Surely it wasn’t Anthony. He’d said he’d call, but would he come so early in the day? She wasn’t prepared. “Who is it?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded calmer than it did to her own ears.
“A lady.”
Isabella sensed the tension in her mother’s posture. “Does she have a name?” she asked.
Marjorie shook her head. “She did not give me one but asked specifically to speak with Miss Chilcott.”
“Well, by all means then, show her in,” Isabella said, putting her needlework back in its basket as she wondered who this lady might possibly be. Lady Louise, perhaps?
“She asked that you come outside,” Marjorie said, looking somewhat uncomfortable, “so you can speak in private.”
Isabella stilled and glanced hesitantly at her mother, whose brow was furrowed in a deep frown. “It seems we’ve been quite overrun with nobility these past few days,” she said tightly, making her disapproval known.
Isabella rose and went to the door. It had to be Lady Louise, for she doubted the duchess herself would venture into this part of town, requesting a private conversation with her. “I’ll just see who it is,” she told her mother as she stepped into the hallway and opened the front door.
The woman she found waiting for her, however, was not Lady Louise. In fact, Isabella had no idea who she might have been, for she had never seen her before in her life. She was pretty, with light brown curls framing her face. Her figure was fashionably slim, and Isabella couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy at her natural elegance. “May I help you?” Isabella asked.
The woman gave Isabella a head to toe inspection, then stared down her nose at her with the same amount of disgust and arrogance that she probably reserved for toads. “Frankly, I don’t know what he sees in you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Who was this woman, and what on earth made her think she had the right to speak to Isabella that way?
“The duke may have taken a momentary interest in you, Miss Chilcott, but you know as well as I that it is only a matter of time before he tires of you.” Her lips curled upward and her eyes flickered with disdain. “Why, you’re not even worthy of being his mistress, so why don’t you stop your ... whoring and save us all further embarrassment by staying away from him?”
Isabella could scarcely believe her ears, but she recognized the rage that swept through her at the other woman’s insult. “I don’t believe I care for your tone, Lady ...” She deliberately allowed her words to trail off, hoping this shrew would fill in the blank.
“Harriett,” the lady said, and then, “the Duke of Kingsborough’s fiancée.”
Isabella could feel the blood draining from her face. “His fiancée?” she squeaked, hating how panicked she sounded.
Lady Harriett nodded as though she’d just conquered France. “It hasn’t been formally announced yet, so I thought I’d use what little time I have before it becomes public knowledge to do a little housekeeping. It’s one thing for the duke to have a few indiscretions—indeed, I expect nothing less—but what I won’t stand for is when those indiscretions stop being discreet.” She stepped toward Isabella with a sneer. “I saw you leaving his barn with your clothes and hair in disarray as I was on my way to Kingsborough Hall myself the other day, and I am well aware of his ... appreciation of you.”
Isabella felt sick.
“However,” Lady Harriett continued in a brighter tone than before, “he knows his duty and will eventually accept that he must end his acquaintance with you. I merely thought to speed things along.”
“If that is all,” Isabella said, her voice clipped with anger, “then I would like to ask you to leave.”
Lady Harriett gave her a hard stare. “Don’t do anything foolish, Miss Chilcott, or I will see what little reputation you have ruined.”
“Is that a threat, my lady?”
