The Sweetest Revenge (13 page)

It was good she’d waited until today to come to him, he supposed. If she’d come last night, he’d not have been able to hold in his temper. Today was a different story. He’d promised himself to keep it under tight rein.

“There is no need to mince words with me, Leo,” Lady M said. “Tell me what you really think of it.”

“It’s a deuced inconvenience.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Why do you force me to wear it, then?”

“You know why.”

“Because I would identify you if I saw you. Well, Lady M, I have already identified one of your treacherous trio. It is only a matter of time before I know all of you.”

“We shall endeavor to prevent that,” she said dryly.

Recognition flashed, but then it fled before Leo had a chance to grasp it. It left behind the assurance that he knew this woman well. He smiled and sat back comfortably on the chaise, trying to ignore the throb in his ankles where the shackles had worn the skin raw. “You will reveal yourselves in the subtlest ways. You cannot prevent it. Observe how easily I uncovered Belle’s identity.”

“Whose?”

“Belle’s.”

“I can’t say I’m acquainted with anyone by that name.”

Leo gritted his teeth. He should have expected this. “Isabelle Frasier. The lady I exposed the day before yesterday. Why isn’t she here now? What is she afraid of?”

The sound of a long-suffering sigh came from Lady M’s direction. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Leo. Are you addled? Why, I thought you’d be able to keep your wits about you longer than this. It has only been four days, after all.”

“Do not toy with me, my lady.”

He did not know she was so close until her hand skimmed his shoulder. Her touch heated his skin through his shirt. God, he missed being touched. He missed
warmth
.

She moved away. Pages rustled as she flipped through the book. “Are you enjoying
Vindication
, Leo?”

“Fascinating,” he muttered. He hadn’t touched the book. The title said it all, didn’t it? Lady M had lectured him enough—he was not about to submit to a two-hundred-page treatise on the evils of the male gender written by some mad-as-a-hatter female who’d probably locked hundreds of men in her own cellar.

“Ah, I agree. Mrs. Wollstonecraft was a brilliant woman, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.”

“What did you think of chapter nine, about the ‘pernicious effects of the unnatural class distinctions in society’? You know, just this morning, I was discussing that very topic with our own Mistress Jane.”

Leo licked his lips. “Quite enlightening.”

“Really, Leo?” Her voice was soft.

“Absolutely. Now that I’ve finished it, would you mind bringing me another book? Perhaps a history or one of the classics? Haven’t read those since Eton.”

“So you’d like a Homer or Virgil, perhaps?”

“Yes, those would do. Bring back all the fond memories of my boyhood, you know? And I haven’t tested my Latin or Greek in years. I am sure it’s rather rusty. What a useful way to spend my time.”

“Oh yes,” Lady M said agreeably, but then her voice hardened. “However, I think you might do better to read through this one again. There are endless subtleties within the text, and I am afraid you did not grasp all of them.”

The nerve of this woman. First she called him addled, now she implied he was incapable of understanding the written word.

Of course, it was quite an impossibility to understand something one hadn’t read, and if he tried to argue for his intelligence, he would expose his ignorance about the damned book.

He changed the topic instead. “My lady, I planned a trip to Scotland next month. I ought to send my regrets, since you clearly intend to keep me here for some time. Perhaps I might pen a letter. Would you be so kind as to procure me some stationery and ink?”

“No, Leo. Don’t worry about it. It has been taken care of.”

That sent a chill down his spine. Just how much did these women know of his life? Far, far too much, obviously.

He swallowed down the lump of emotion rising in his throat. “Very good. Perhaps you could bring a few pies? We could make a pleasant picnic here, I should think. This state of perpetual hunger you’ve kept me in makes me think incessantly about food.”

And Belle
. He hungered for her, too. To see her, to touch her, to hear her whispering voice. Now that would be a sweet sustenance.

“Good food,” he added, “not the scraps you’ve been providing.”

“Oh, poor Leo. Ever wonder how the women you ruin get their next meal?”

This woman’s gall was beyond compare.

“Surely my coin provides it,” he retorted, curling his fists behind him. “Not that I admit to ruining women. I don’t—there is no pleasure in it. I try to get to them after they’ve been properly ruined. Like you, Lady M.”

He heard her breath catch and knew he had struck a chord. He felt his lips curl into a Cheshire cat grin, far too self-satisfied to be gentlemanly. But why work to be a gentleman when these women did not behave like ladies?

“That was unkind, Leo.”

His grin twisted, turned into a snarl. “Would you describe your actions toward me as kind, Lady M? You keep me frozen and on the brink of starvation. All I have to look forward to are brief periods of interaction with you, in which you deride me, ridicule me, and blame me for society’s shortcomings. How can you expect kindness from me?”

Lady M’s voice dripped with acid. “You are warm enough. I see Mistress Jane has given you a blanket. She is far too kind, in my opinion, for not very long ago, she nearly froze to death on a London street because of you. Furthermore, you are given enough food to survive. If it is not to your taste, I am sorry about that. I believe Mistress Jane and Miss Juliette have subsisted on less, no thanks to you. As for me, I am accustomed to better, but only because I was lucky enough to have been able to hide my own ‘ruin,’ as you so aptly put it.”

The wind rushed out of Leo’s lungs. He felt as though she’d slapped him. Belle had nearly starved? Because of him? And how could he have been solely responsible for Mistress Jane having nearly frozen to death on a street? No, it couldn’t have happened. Completely impossible. And yet…

Not wanting Lady M to see his confusion, he hardened his face. He opened his mouth to say he was blameless, but it was a lie, and of course Lady M knew that.

Instead, he said, “Whatever happened, it was not with intentional malice on my part.”

“You know,” she said softly, “I believe you. The problem, I think, is that you just didn’t care enough.”

He shook his head, unable to speak, not knowing whether to contradict her or agree wholeheartedly. He had cared about Belle more than anything in the world. But if that was really true, why had he not seen beyond his family’s deception and learned the truth for himself?

Maybe they had given him what he had wanted to hear. Maybe they had freed him, opened the door to his innate libertine ways.

No!
No. He had loved Belle. He truly had. He had been mad with grief, not thinking straight.

“You don’t give the reverence due to the gifts women give you, Leo,” Lady M continued. “You treat them cheaply, and therefore what they have becomes cheap.”

“My purse would disagree with you, my lady.” Leo’s voice was not as smug as he would have liked. He was suddenly exhausted. He didn’t want to be arguing with this woman.

He wanted Belle.

Belle, Belle, Belle
.

“This has naught to do with a few shillings. I am speaking of the inherent value of the individual. What you do diminishes the value of women.”

He wasn’t quite following her line of thought, but her attacks had consumed his self-worth. His self-worth must have little value if she could purchase it with a few select words.

“Bring Belle to me, Lady M.”

“What?”

“I want to see Belle. Let me explain—”

“There is no ‘Belle.’”

He lunged to his feet, chains clanking over the flagstones. “Don’t do this. I know she’s here. Let me talk to her.”

Her words were patient, as if she spoke to a small, idiotic child. “Leo, dear, who is Belle?”

Sweat broke out on his temples. He gulped in a breath. “Bring her!”

“How can I bring you someone I do not know?”

His skin crawled. His body shook. He dove for her, pulling the chain taut. He heard her scramble backwards, the quickening of her breath.

“Now what do you think you will accomplish by slamming your body into mine? This is not a wrestling match.” Her voice remained soft and unaffected, but by her erratic breathing, he knew she struggled to stay calm. If only he could see her, gauge the fear in her eyes.

“Bring Belle to me,” he growled.

“Goodness gracious, Leo, you’re behaving like a child. It is quite disagreeable.”

She affected to sound bored, the bitch. She opened the door.

“Don’t you leave me!” he shouted.

“I must go prepare for our evening at the theater.”

“The theater?” For some reason, that infuriated him even more.

“I’ll see that you’re given something for your supper. Do be good, Leo. Read your book.”

The door creaked open, then shut.

“Don’t push me, Lady M! I’m warning you!”

The bolt scraped into place.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isabelle had worn her blue silk the night before, so she could not wear it to the theater. Susan’s gowns were all much too petite for Isabelle, but some of Anna’s almost fit when she squeezed into them. The day went by in a flurry of skirts and ribbons and petticoats and alterations. Before long, the sun had set and it was time for all of them to dress.

Isabelle stood still as the maid yanked on the strings of her stays. She gazed at the dress Anna had loaned her, a beautiful beribboned yellow silk, simple but quite elegant.

It would be the loveliest thing Isabelle had ever worn, and she was thankful to have it. Susan had voiced a concern that someone at the theater would recall Anna wearing it, but it didn’t matter. At least Lord Archer and Mr. Sutherland wouldn’t see her in the same dress two nights in a row.

The maid tugged and tightened until the stays squeezed Isabelle’s torso in an approximation of Anna’s more slender figure. Just as the maid finished, someone knocked on the door.

“Isabelle, it’s us.” Anna’s voice.

“Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Anna in petticoats with Susan at her shoulder, elegant in gold satin. Isabelle had already seen the gown Anna would wear tonight—a white muslin festooned with ruffles, chosen specifically to call attention to her lovely new mantle.

Susan’s mouth twisted wryly as she moved from behind Anna. Following Susan’s gaze, Isabelle looked down at the object her friend held in her hands. It was another white box wrapped in blue ribbons.

“It’s your turn,” Susan murmured.

Isabelle stared at it wide-eyed. “No!”

“I am afraid so.” Susan nodded at the maid, who gave Isabelle a gap-toothed smile, then bobbed and slipped away.

Anna closed the door. When she turned back, she grinned widely.

Susan held the box out. “The boy said it was for a Miss Frasier. Is there any other Miss Frasier presently in this household?”

If her current state of confinement hadn’t robbed Isabelle of her agility, she would have scampered across the bed to the other side of the room. As it was, she cringed away, and, fearing her bosom might spill out over the cups of the stays, wrapped her arms over her chest to hold it in place.

“Don’t play at being surprised, Isabelle. We all knew it was inevitable,” Anna said.

“I don’t want to touch it,” Isabelle said breathlessly. “Send it back.”

“But you don’t even know who it’s from!”

Isabelle threw Anna a scathing look. “I suppose you are going to tell me it’s from my great-aunt, to wish me luck at the theater tonight?”

Anna shrugged, smiling impishly. “It is possible.”

“There is no need to wonder who it’s from,” Susan said. “The delivery boy said it was sent by Mr. Sutherland.”

“Ah!” Isabelle knew it, of course, but to hear it verified made her want to scream. “Send it back!”

“Oh, come now, Isabelle,” Anna said. “Aren’t you curious?”

She was curious. Far too curious. What could it be? Jewels would come in a much smaller box. Some sort of clothing, she assumed, but what?

She thrust her chin out. “Not at all.”

“I don’t believe you!” Anna giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

Isabelle turned to Susan. “Please send it back.”

“Of course. I will take care of it.” With a wan smile, Susan set the box on the counterpane at the foot of the bed.

Anna dropped into the chair at the dressing table. “Oh, you two are no fun at all. Can’t we see what it is first,
then
send it back? Please?”

“No.” Isabelle tried to sound adamant, but Anna’s curiosity was catching. If the box stayed in the room much longer, she’d give in.

What was she turning into? An outrageous, wanton creature. To even consider opening a gift from a man who was not her relative breached the defenses of the principles she’d so carefully constructed to protect herself from further shame, further heartbreak. To even consider accepting a man’s gift made her feel unaccountably guilty and terribly immoral.

It was all because of Leo. The horrid man had ruined her for anyone else. She closed her eyes.

“Please, Susan. Send it back now. I can’t bear to look at it a moment longer.”

***

Leo couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He remembered seeing her father for the first time after her “death.” Leo had encountered him in Scotland after a sojourn on the Continent. Frasier had played along with Leo’s brother’s ruse, accepting his condolences for his daughter’s death with strained politeness.

It had been an extremely awkward moment, and Leo had escaped as quickly as he could. They ran in different circles, so he rarely saw the man. He wondered if he still lived. If so, Leo thought to pay him a visit when he was released.

He wondered how much his brother had paid Belle’s father for his silence. The thought of it made him grind his teeth.