Page 54 of Isabel and the Rogue

“If that’s the case, why, then, are you using it as an excuse to hold Captain Dawson at bay?”

Biting back a curse, Isabel yanked her gaze away.

Isabel had no more time to consider her sister’s question, as the door opened and Viscount Westhope appeared on the threshold, a smile brightening his handsome face.

“Miss Luna, Miss Gabriela, how good it does me to see you this day,” he exclaimed, stepping into the room. Although his greeting encompassed Gabby, his gaze remained fixed on Isabel.

Sinking into a curtsy, Isabel fashioned a smile on her face. Perhaps it would be a good day to see Lord Westhope as well.

13

“I’m so happy you’re both here.”

It was obvious Ana María was telling the truth, for her velvet eyes sparkled, a grin brightening her face. It had been more than a week since they had seen one another, her sister and Gideon having been busy with political dinners and such. Isabel and Gabby were aware of their older sister’s duties as the wife of an MP, but sometimes they smarted. However, any frustrations they may have felt were extinguished by Ana’s excitement for their visit, which was infectious. Gabby grabbed Ana’s hand and twirled about, laughing gaily. When they stopped, Isabel smiled as Ana turned to her, grasping both of her hands.

“Querida, I’ve missed you.”

And Isabel had missed her older sister. So much so that she reached out, wrapped her arms about Ana’s waist, and tucked her face into her shoulder. Ana María’s arms came around her instantly, holding her tightly in a manner Isabel had always desired but never known how to ask for.

“Isa, has something happened?” Ana asked softly, rubbing a soothing hand along her back.

Isabel shook her head but did not lift it from her sister’s shoulder.

“I suspect she’s feeling a bit…emotional right now.”

She slid her eyes to Gabby and glared.

Ana María’s hold tightened about her shoulders. “Why would you be feeling emotional, Isa?”

Her grip on her sister increased.

“Is it Westhope?” Ana María’s voice turned hard. “Has he hurt you?”

¡Ay Dios! How could she have forgotten how protective her older sister was? Sucking in a breath, Isabel pulled back and met Ana’s gaze. “He did not.”

Gabby snorted. “It’s Isa who’s breaking hearts. Lord Westhope is enamored with her.”

Isabel could not stop the rush of heat that swept up her neck, over her cheeks, and to the roots of her hair. While she knew Gabby was just teasing her, she had not told her younger sister how Westhope had seemed poised to kiss her in the shadows of the terrace at the Harrington ball…until Isabel had feigned a cough and scuttled back inside the ballroom. She had felt terrible, a feeling that had not dissipated, but the thought of kissing anyone but S—

“And are you enamored with him?”

Faith, what should she tell Ana María? She certainly couldn’t admit that she was encouraging the viscount’s affections to learn what he knew about French movements in Mexico, and the special push and pull between her and Sirius seemed too uncertain, too precious, to discuss in her sister’s drawing room. Without thinking, she slid her gaze to Gabby, desperate for an idea of how to respond.

“I think,” Gabby began, flopping onto a settee in a mass of crinoline, “that our dear Isabel is fond of the viscount but is hesitant to engage his affections.”

“Why?” Ana María slowly sank onto an armchair, her gaze glued to Isabel’s face.

Isabel paced around the matching armchair, her hands curling around the seat back. “I don’t intend to stay in England.”

Understanding swept across her older sister’s expression. “Oh. Of course.”

And with those three words, uttered with such forlorn sadness, a stone settled in Isabel’s gut. She’d always known that when Ana María married Gideon, her sister’s home would forevermore be in England. Gabby knew it, and so did Ana María. But they had never discussed what it meant for the three of them, and how one day their futures, their day-to-day lives, would be spent far away from one another. Two and a half years ago, this would not have bothered Isabel, for her sisters had been polite but indifferent strangers. Yet now…now that reality was enough to steal her breath away.

A melancholia settled like a cloud over the drawing room. Ana María busied herself with the tea tray, her mien pale as she prepared their cafecito. Gabby stared out the window to the little garden beyond, her hazel eyes clouded over. Exhaling, Isabel settled her gaze on a painting that hung over the unlit fireplace. Gideon had it commissioned from a visiting Mexican artist, and it featured a sweeping view of the Mexico City skyline, with the snowcapped mountains far in the background. And in the center of the foreground was a woman looking out on the view, her black hair tossed about on the breeze. An intense wave of homesickness crashed over Isabel whenever she looked at it, and she suspected it did the same for Ana María. Sliding her gaze to her sister, Isabel found Ana looking at it, as well, her lips pursed and her face in a frown.

Abruptly, Ana María dropped her spoon on the tray with a clatter. “I don’t like to think about you two leaving. Just the thought of being left here, alone, makes my heart feel like it might lurch from my chest.”

“But, Ana, you’re not alone.” Isabel leaned toward her. “You have Gideon.”