Isobel opened her eyes. In the mirror’s reflection, she saw her fist clutched against her chest and slowly lowered it to her lap. Did she hope Stephen cared? That he would suffer as she was suffering? Nay, she would not wish this pain on him.
Linnet touched her shoulder. “I’ve finished.”
Isobel met Linnet’s eyes in the mirror. “Wait outside the door until I call you.”
Linnet nodded.
“Trust me.” Isobel stood and took the shawl Linnet held for her. Taking a deep breath, she hurried out the door.
She was within a few steps of the entrance to the hall when a voice behind her stopped her.
“I was just looking for you, my dear,” de Roche said, taking her arm in a firm grip. “We should welcome our guest together.”
She would not have even a moment alone with Stephen. Before she could prepare herself, de Roche led her in.
Her heart stopped at the sight of Stephen. Last night, he looked like an impossibly handsome prince, bedecked in jewels and gold trim. Today he was in the sort of clothes he regularly wore. Their very familiarity made her ache to run her fingers along his collar, down his sleeve.
The usual humor and mischief were missing from his expression, however. His face was drawn, the laughter gone from his deep brown eyes. How could she have found fault with the easy, lighthearted Stephen of before? The man who made her laugh. She missed him now more than she could say.
It was evident Stephen’s purpose in coming was to speak to her alone. It was equally clear de Roche would not permit it. After straining to make small talk for a few minutes, Stephen rose to his feet.
“I leave the city today,” Stephen said, “so I must bid you adieu now, Lady Hume.”
“Wait!”
She said it more loudly than she intended. Both men looked at her expectantly. De Roche’s eyes were narrow, suspicious; Stephen’s hand was on the hilt of his sword.
“Sir Stephen, I must ask you to take back the two servants you loaned to me,” she said in as cool a voice as she could manage. She lifted her chin. “My new husband has more than enough servants to meet my needs.”
Stephen furrowed his brow. “You are welcome to keep Linnet and François all the same. I am sure they are a comfort to you in your new surroundings.”
“My husband provides for my comfort,” she said. “I do not wish to have the girl here. She is headstrong and difficult. Her behavior is an embarrassment to me.”
Stephen visibly stiffened. The shocked disapproval on his face almost made her falter.
She kept her expression hard and called out, “Linnet!”
On cue, Linnet came quietly into the room. The girl played her part to perfection. She stood, eyes cast down, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You and your brother are leaving with me,” Stephen said. Lips pressed together, he grabbed Linnet by the wrist and charged out. At the door, he turned to cast a scorching look at Isobel that nearly knocked her from her feet.
The hall was silent, save for the muffled sound of retreating footsteps. De Roche stood, mouth agape, staring after them. It happened so quickly he had no time to object—or to speak at all.
She had done it.
She had saved Linnet and François. They were in Stephen’s hands now, and he would protect them. And she had uncovered the plot to murder King Henry. The twins would tell Stephen, and he would warn the king. It was enough.
After collecting François, Stephen strode ahead, barely aware of the twins trailing at his heels. Every now and then, Linnet’s sobs penetrated his stormy thoughts, and he was angry all over again.
How could she dismiss Linnet so coldly? Little Linnet, who was wholly devoted to her. What she said about Linnet was surely true, but Isobel was always patient and tolerant with the girl before. What happened to her? Was it possible for a woman to change so much in so short a time?
Her new husband provides all the “comfort” she needs! Comfort, indeed. That remark was meant to cut him to the quick. It had.
He did not notice until he reached the Palais that François and Linnet had fallen behind.
“Sorry, we could not keep up,” François said as they caught up to him on the steps. It was not François, whose legs were nearly as long as Stephen’s, who could not keep up.
Stephen’s blood was still pounding in his ears. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “I apologize, Linnet. Come, we shall go to my room now.”
