Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) (21 page)

But alas, that would never come to pass. He had his fill of her, and tossed her aside like yesterday’s food scraps. He had no heart even though he acted as if he did in those few, mind-boggling, wonderful days.

The carriage stopped in front of the viscount’s home, and the driver helped them down. Mrs. Winters looped her arm through Isabelle’s and squeezed.

“My dear, you must get rid of that forlorn look about you. It’s not becoming at all.”

“Forgive me. I have much on my mind, and it’s hard to put it aside and act as if nothing happened.”

The older woman stopped them before reaching the door. She gave Isabelle a stern look. “Whatever you do, don’t mention Captain Hawk. Your future husband cannot know the vile highwayman held you captive. If so, your chance of marrying him will be lost.”

Inwardly, Isabelle moaned. “Yes, Mrs. Winters, this I know. I’m very much aware how that man may have ruined my life.” She forced a smile. “Not to worry. I will be most charming and gracious. The viscount won’t know any different, I assure you.”

“Very good.”

They entered the house, and right away Isabelle noticed new women servants. Apparently Lockwood had thought about her welfare and knew after the marriage this place would not be a bachelor’s residence any longer.

The butler introduced her to the new upstairs maids and laundry girls. When he asked if there were any instructions she wanted to give to these new servants, Isabelle’s heart swelled. They had welcomed her into the family so quickly, and she nearly cried from the thrill of it all.

Even though she may not have had instructions, she still walked around with the butler as he showed the new staff the viscount’s living quarters. It amazed her to think her soon-to-be-husband had so much wealth. Then again, he was titled and came from London. She assumed that had something to do with it.

By evening, exhaustion affected her limbs and her mind. In her room, she changed gowns, readying herself for dinner with the viscount. Her new personal maid, Laura, was older than her by ten years. While she fixed Isabelle’s hair, they chatted like long-time friends. Could she finally hope to have a good life here?

Once Laura had Isabelle ready, she left the room and floated down the long staircase, feeling like a princess. Mrs. Winters met her at the bottom, and together they walked into the drawing room. Viscount Lockwood hadn’t yet arrived, and she almost sighed with relief. That man made her nervous, and most of the time she didn’t know how to act around him.

When the butler passed, she motioned her hand to him to get his attention. “Pardon me, please, but can you tell me if the viscount is here?”

“Yes, Miss. He’s still up in his room.”

“Splendid. Thank you.”

Walking back in the drawing room, she wrung her hands against her middle. If it was up to her, this night would be over already and it would be her wedding day. In fact, even that would be over, and at last she could feel settled. Right away, she would insist on getting to know the other ladies in society’s circles. After all, she must keep herself entertained somehow. Also, she needed to send money to her aunt and uncle, but that would have to wait until she felt confident in asking the viscount.

Time ticked by slowly, and she kept turning her gaze toward the door. What was taking him so long? Finally, the butler stepped inside the room and cleared his throat.

“Miss, the viscount won’t be joining you for dinner. He wishes you and your companion to start without him.”

She hurried to the servant. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. He sends his apologizes, but states he has had a trying day and wishes to remain in his room.”

“That’s understandable.” So then why couldn’t she stay in her room, too?

As she walked beside Mrs. Winters to the dining room, the older woman’s grumbles gnawed on Isabelle’s nerves. True, it was quite rude of Lockwood not to act as host tonight, but then again, it was his house and he could do as he pleased. This wedding was as much of a shock to him as it was to her, she was certain.

Isabelle remained silent during her meal, only because she wanted to retire to her room quickly. She, too, had an exhausting day and her new bedroom called to her. Just as she finished her last bite, the butler entered and walked to her, handing her a card.

“Someone is here and would like to pay a visit, Miss Stanhope.”

She glanced at Mrs. Winter’s wide eyes, then back to the butler. “Who is it? I don’t know anyone in town.”

“Well, actually Mrs. Westland came to see Viscount Lockwood, but since he’s not taking visitors, she asked to see you.”

Mrs. Winters gasped. “Oh, Miss Isabelle, I’ve heard of this woman, and she is a viper to the fullest. I think you should allow me with you during your visit.”

Isabelle took the card. The woman’s name meant nothing to her, so she nodded to the butler. “Fine, I’ll see her. Show her into the drawing room, please.”

“As you wish, Miss Stanhope.”

Mrs. Winters dabbed the linen napkin to her mouth. “I don’t approve of this one bit,” she grumbled. “Proper women don’t call upon men at their homes this late in the evening. I really think I should be there with you.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Winters. I’m quite certain this woman has heard of the wedding and is here to offer congratulations.”

“I’m sure you’re correct, but it’s just not done.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Perhaps things are different here in New York.” She took one last sip of her red wine then pushed away from the table. Gracefully, she walked toward the drawing room, hoping to show a good first impression to her visitor. When she entered, she stopped and sucked in a breath. Instead of an older woman as she had thought Mrs. Westland would be, a young woman stood before Isabelle, dressed as fancy as a duke’s wife. Slightly older by no more than five years, Mrs. Westland was very lovely. The woman’s hair was just a bit darker than Isabelle’s, but naturally curly just the same.

She wanted to hate her right away, but decided to give the woman a chance, mainly to see exactly why she was here at this late hour.

Mrs. Westland curtsied, and Isabelle did also. As she stood, the other woman’s gaze slowly assessed Isabelle. That didn’t bother her, but it was the arched brow and smirk on the woman’s face she wanted to slap.

“You must be the one I’ve heard so much about today.” Mrs. Westland flipped her fan out.

“I’m Miss Stanhope.”

“I must say, you have taken the gossip circles by storm. I mean, when I heard Lockwood was to wed Commodore Stanhope’s daughter, I nearly swooned.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Actually, the betrothal agreement has been in effect for over a year.”

“Indeed?” Mrs. Westland turned and sashayed to the couch then sat daintily. “Lockwood has kept it a secret, which is why it’s such a surprise.”

Isabelle walked to the chair and sat, not wanting to be any closer to the other lady than necessary.

Mrs. Westland lifted her chin. “You are quite lovely, though.”

“Thank you.” Isabelle fidgeted in her chair. “Are you and your husband acquainted with the viscount?”

A slow smile stretched across the other woman’s face as she lowered her fan. “No, my husband died before I met Lockwood, unfortunately.”

Isabelle’s blood chilled. By the bold, know-it-all expression on Mrs. Westland’s face, Isabelle could only come to one conclusion. And it wasn’t good. A fierce beat took over Isabelle’s heart, and bile rose in her throat. Why hadn’t she realized her soon-to-be husband had a mistress? Of course, he would. Handsome, wealthy men like the viscount always had a mistress. “So you and Viscount Lockwood are good friends?”

The other woman arched her brow. “If that’s how you want to refer to it, yes.”

“Ah, I see.” Isabelle took a deep breath, calming herself. Mrs. Winters had been right. This widow was a viper. No reason to get upset. So Lord Lockwood had a mistress. Isabelle had been in love with a highwayman. Did that make them even?

“Do you really see?” The other woman’s voice practically purred.

“Yes.” Isabelle stood. “Which is why I’m curious about your visit. Why are you here to see me?”

On cue, the other woman stood, also. “I thought it would be obvious. I need to meet my competition.”

“Competition? When I’m the one marrying him?”

Mrs. Westland slithered closer like a snake preparing for their next meal. Her evil fangs practically making a debut when she grinned, ready to bite into Isabelle, most certainly.

“But will you share his bed?”

Isabelle rolled her eyes then turned and marched to the open door of the drawing room. The butler stood waiting, and when she motioned, he hurried over. “Mrs. Westland will be leaving now. Will you kindly show her out?” Isabelle was afraid if she did it herself, she’d shove the woman out the door with too much force… and with her foot.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stanhope.” She curtsied.

Isabelle bit her tongue from the rude reply ready on her lips. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll inform the viscount of your visit.”

When the door closed behind the woman, Isabelle released a frustrated sigh. Her palms hurt, and when she looked down, noticed she’d bunched her hands into fists so hard her nails dug into the skin. Better that than going with her first instinct to claw the other woman’s eyes out.

She rubbed her forehead as a slight pound hummed in her skull. Why was she even troubled over this? She hadn’t planned on sharing her husband’s bed, so naturally he should have a mistress. Yet, Isabelle did care, and she wished she wouldn’t.

Without a word to the butler, she hurried up the stairs toward her bedroom. The lamps in the hallway were low, casting eerie shadows everywhere. As she placed her hand on the knob, the hairs on the back of her neck stood and coldness chilled her bones. Somebody walked up behind her. The floor squeaked just as an overpowering scent of whiskey assaulted her senses.

She whipped around and came face to face with Lockwood.

Gasping, she fell back against the door while he loomed over her. Because of the shadows, his eyes looked pitch black. Yet the gleam of lust was unmistakable. From his stench, she figured he’d consumed at least two bottles of spirits tonight.

“My lord?” She hated that her voice squeaked, but she couldn’t stop the way her body shook with fear. “Do you need something?”

“You’re very lovely tonight, Isabelle.” He moved his hand down the column of her throat. “Forgive me for not taking the meal with you. I was otherwise occupied.”

“Yes, I’m quite certain you were, my lord.” If the smell of alcohol was any indication.

He pulled back slightly and ran his gaze over her body, then to the door behind her. “Can’t you get in your room, my dear?” He reached the knob and clicked it open.

She stumbled backward into the room, hoping to put distance between them. He followed her inside, kicking the door closed. He wore only his shirt and breeches with stocking feet this evening. No collar graced his shirt, which left it open at his throat, showing a glimpse of his muscular neck. His wig was absent, letting her see the color of his short, dark tousled hair. He was more handsome than she was prepared for—than she wanted. Why couldn’t he be a horrid looking man who made her ill?

“Um, my lord, if you would like to talk, we can adjourn to the drawing room—”

“This place will do.”

She swallowed hard. “
Wh
—what would you like to discuss with me?”

“I heard you had a visitor this evening.”

Anger filled her once again. How dare he throw that in her face? Stubbornly, she lifted her chin. “In reality, Mrs. Westland came to see
you
, my lord.”

“Mrs. Westland?”

By the blank expression on his face, he gave the impression he didn’t know the lady, which upset Isabelle that much more. Did he think she was a dolt? “Yes. She mentioned she was your latest… um… acquaintance.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Did she now?”

He took a step closer, so she withdrew at the same pace. “Yes, and I have to admit, I was a little disturbed by her visit.”

“Disturbed? Pray, how did she disturb you?”

“Her words were meant to upset me, my lord. She presented herself most improper, and very vicious indeed. Her conversation seemed more about making me believe she was the woman who holds your affections instead of your soon-to-be bride.”

Inwardly, she scolded herself. Her tone of voice probably made him think she cared, which she didn’t. Not really. If Mrs. Westland entertained her husband then Isabelle wouldn’t have to.

“I gather you don’t like to share, Miss Stanhope.” His grin widened, if that were possible.

She swallowed hard. “That’s not what I said at all.”

Slow and cautious, he came toward her. She backed up until the wall stopped her progress. When he pressed his body against hers, she released a small whimper. She didn’t want it to be like this. Isabelle pushed her hand against his chest. “My lord, please.”

He didn’t try to kiss her, simply content to stare into her face as if studying her. The beat of her heart ached as it slammed against her ribs. She wanted him out of her room, but she didn’t want to insult him for fear he’d call off the wedding.