VIscount Besieged (28 page)

She was up on
the thought, heading for the door, only vaguely conscious of the
family’s eyes suddenly fixed upon her, and the abrupt silence that
had fallen.

‘
Dora, what is it?’ her mother quavered.

‘
Where are you going, Dora?’ said Cousin Matty
sharply.

Isadora paused
at the door, gazing at them almost unseeingly. ‘There is something
I must do.’

She was gone on
the words, closing the door behind her on the family’s babble of
comment. She neither heard nor cared what they might say. She must
see the viscount immediately.

Almost running
along the corridor, away from the sitting-room that was situated in
one of the back rooms on the first floor, she headed towards the
front of the great mansion, intent only upon finding
his
lordship
—venomously thought—that she might tell him precisely
what she thought of him.

Crossing the
gallery that ran along the upper storey above the main stairwell to
the arched hallway below, she made for the study that she had
discovered to house Mr Dalbury, the viscount’s agent. Lady
Roborough had complained that her son spent all his time in there
and neglected his family.

At the study,
she rapped smartly on the door. The voice that called her to come
in was not the viscount’s, but she recognised the dapper little man
behind the desk as the agent, who had been introduced to the family
the other evening.

He rose at once.
‘Miss Alvescot? What can I do for you?’

By this time
Isadora’s temper had begun to cool. She could not have identified
the emotions in her breast if she had wanted to, they were so
confused, but she was aware of disappointment at discovering only
Dalbury.

‘
I
was looking for his lordship,’ she said rather lamely.

‘
He
has gone down to the stables, ma’am.’

Isadora stood at
the door, biting her lip in a good deal of uncertainty. What should
she do? All her instincts told her to seek Roborough out at once—
whether he was at the stables or on the moon. But the threatening
remorse had superseded the subsiding anger, and now she did not
know what she was going to say to him.

The little man
coughed. ‘Is there anything I can do to assist you,
ma’am?’

‘
No,’
Isadora sighed. ‘No, thank you.’

She turned to
leave, and hesitated. She must find a way. She could not meet the
viscount at dinner unless she had first spoken to him. On the other
hand, she needed time to collect her thoughts. It would be better
perhaps if she did not attend dinner. She would plead a headache
and ask for a tray in her room. Looking back into the study, she
spoke again.

‘
Please you will give his lordship a message?’

‘
Certainly, ma’am. What shall I say?’

Isadora smiled
suddenly. ‘Present to him my compliments, if you please, and say
that if he will be so kind as to select a horse for me, I shall be
delighted to accept his invitation to ride with him tomorrow before
breakfast.’

Let Roborough
make what he might of that. He had not invited her to ride, of
course, but she thought she knew him well enough to guess that he
would be both amused and intrigued by her message. Particularly
when she did not come down to dinner. He would meet her at the
appointed time, she was sure of that.

Nor was she
mistaken. When she arrived, suitably garbed in her dark blue habit
and guided by one of the servants, for she had not yet been to the
stables, she discovered the viscount waiting with two horses at the
ready. He was looking forbidding rather than amused, and Isadora
felt her pulses begin to race. Ignoring that, she turned her gaze
on the magnificent black horse that awaited him.

‘
Good
morning,’ she said brightly. ‘That is Othello, I
collect?’

‘
It
is,’ he agreed, his countenance relaxing a trifle. ‘I trust you
slept well? Has your headache gone?’

Isadora glanced
at him. ‘Oh yes, thank you.’

In fact it was
astonishing that she did not really have the headache, she had
slept so badly, unable to relax for the thoughts that would persist
in plaguing her. She had still not determined on what she would
say, but determined she was to say something. He might be content
to allow her to go on believing ill of him but she would not rest
until she had cleared the matter up. And if he supposed that the
re-establishment of his character in itself was enough to placate
her he would very soon learn his mistake.

They had barely
settled in the saddle and trotted away towards a wide expanse of
rolling land that bordered the immediate grounds around the house
when Roborough turned to her, speaking in a level tone.

‘
To
what am I indebted for this particular honour?’

Isadora glanced
across at him. ‘I wish to talk to you.’

‘
Ah,
I see. I rather suspected that you had not sought a ride for the
sheer pleasure of enjoying my company.’

Isadora said
nothing. The faint bitterness in his voice affected her to no
little extent. She recalled those many occasions on which just that
note had betrayed his inner disquiet. She had wondered at it, she
remembered. Now she understood it. She would very much have liked
to dispense with all the preliminaries and tell him instantly how
sorry she was for his evident distress of mind. But it could not be
done. There was so much to say—and so much to unsay.

‘
Is
there somewhere we may dismount?’ she asked abruptly. ‘I must be
private with you, Roborough.’

His frowning
gaze came about and he eyed her in a puzzled sort of way. What did
she mean by this? It was the last thing he had expected after that
first morning. But then, he reminded himself, that was Isadora all
over—unpredictable.

The revulsion
she had displayed towards him, however, was too painful to allow
him any room for amusement at her present antics. He had
deliberately kept out of her way, and had believed, on learning of
her lame excuse of a headache for her non-appearance at the
dinner-table last night, that she was avoiding him equally. Then,
while he had been drinking his port after the ladies had retired, a
note had been brought to him from Dalbury, containing that idiotic
message.

Now here they
were, riding silently across the park-lands of his estates—in a
very different humour from that which he had allowed himself to
imagine might be the case when they did so ride together—and he was
none the wiser as to what Isadora wanted of him.

He led the way
up a gentle hill to the edge of a small copse on its summit. Here,
two fallen tree-trunks, lying almost end to end, provided a neat
spot for the proposed tête-á-tête. Reining in, he swung out of the
saddle and tethered Othello. Turning, he found that Isadora had
already kicked her foot from the stirrup and was preparing to
dismount.

‘
For
pity’s sake,’ he exclaimed, moving quickly to the horse’s side. ‘Do
you wish to break an ankle?’

Reaching up, he
caught Isadora by the waist as she slithered from the horse’s back,
holding her strongly to steady her as she reached the
ground.

Isadora looked
up into his face, her hands automatically coming up to grasp his
arms for support.

‘
You
need not scold. I am quite capable of dismounting without
falling.’

For a moment or
two he was incapable of speech. Her nearness disturbed him so much
that he had to exercise tremendous self-control not to repeat the
fiasco of the other day, when she had divined that she had cause to
wrench herself out of his hold.

But Isadora did
not move. She could not have done so if she had tried. Acutely
conscious of his hands at her waist, of the warmth that radiated
from him to whisk down her limbs, she was barely capable of
standing on her own two legs.

He let her go
abruptly, and she all but staggered, moving quickly to the fallen
branches and grasping one of them for support. By the time she was
able to turn, she found that Roborough had taken her mount and
tethered it with his own. He came back towards her, halting a few
feet away, mute question in his face. Here at Barton Stacey,
perhaps in deference to his mother, he wore dark, sober garments
even to ride, which added to the impression of
aloofness.

Yet this was it.
There was nothing else for it. She must speak now. Isadora drew a
breath and met his eyes boldly.

‘
Why
did you not tell me the truth about your father?’

He frowned. Then
she saw enlightenment in his eyes.

‘
Damnation,’ he said softly.

‘
Yes,
that is all very well, but it does not answer my
question.’

Roborough moved
a little away from her, looking out over the valleys that led back
to the estate. He did not pretend to misunderstand her. It was too
late for that. He supposed he had known she must find it out at
length.

‘
The
opportunity never seemed to arise,’ he offered in a flat
voice.

‘
That
will not do,’ she flung at him. ‘If I had no difficulty in creating
opportunities to say what I had to say to you, then you could
easily have done the same.’

He was silent.
He had no defence against that. She was right. But he could not
have told her the truth. Not then. What would she say if he
confessed that he had desired her trust?

‘
You
let me believe the worst of you,’ Isadora said forthrightly, ‘when
a little word of explanation would have cleared
everything.’

He did not look
at her. ‘It was easier to allow you to believe what you did of me
than to confess my father’s folly. You must understand that it is
not something I readily discuss—with anyone.’

‘
Oh,
that is quite unreasonable,’ cried Isadora. ‘You might say so at
first, yes. But afterwards, when I was driven to accuse you—there
can be no excuse for your silence then.’

He turned a
narrowed gaze upon her. ‘Can there not? Why in the name of all the
gods should I have sued to you for understanding? You had no doubts
at all. You knew I was a reckless and irresponsible gamester. Your
very words, Isadora.’

She caught her
breath. ‘I know. Do you suppose I have not suffered agonies of
remorse? And I did not want to believe it. You must have realised I
wanted you to deny it. Yet you persisted in allowing the mistake to
continue. I was in the wrong, yes, but I cannot absolve you,
Roborough.’

‘
I
can’t imagine there ever being a time when you would,’ he said
involuntarily.

A stifled giggle
left Isadora’s lips. ‘Probably not, but—oh, I do beg your pardon
for my wrong, in any event.’

He blinked.
‘What?’

Her lips
quivered. ‘You heard me.’

‘
Yes,
but I don’t think I believe it,’ he said in a blank tone. ‘Of
course I realise that all that ranting and recrimination is your
notion of an apology, but actually to beg my pardon? Are you sure
you are well, Isadora?’

Isadora burst
into laughter. ‘You, Roborough, are—’

‘
Abominable,’ he finished. ‘Yes, I know.’

Her gaze caught
by his, Isadora became conscious of spreading warmth in her veins,
a tingle that seemed to signal—something. She did not pretend to
understand it. The light eyes, crinkling at the corners in that
endearing manner, appeared to be running over her face. She
felt—how could she express it?—different. Yes, free
.
It was
as if she might enjoy the sensations aroused in Roborough’s
presence, for she need no longer be suspicious of him.

Abruptly,
everything fell into place. All the things he had done that had
seemed to her so needlessly cruel—trying to think how to dispose of
her, the plan to sell their home—and the friendly warmth that had
seemed so contradictory, that she had taken for a false front
cultivated for the purpose of bending them all to his
will.

‘
Oh,
great heavens,’ she exclaimed impulsively, ‘I have been so wrong
about everything! You are selling our house because you
must
,
not for your own selfish gain. And of course you must
wish to get rid of me suitably, for—’

‘
You
are mistaken,’ he interrupted quickly. ‘I have no wish to get rid
of you. Quite otherwise.’

Chapter Ten

Isadora stared
at him, her heart beating rather fast. What did he mean? Sudden
shyness attacked her. It could not be that, in spite of all, he
liked her—could it? Enough to wish to—? No, of what was she
thinking? After the way she had treated him? She rushed into
speech.

‘
Well, of course you feel you must provide me with some sort of
dowry, but I assure you—’

‘
Let
us not discuss your dowry at this precise moment.’

Dared he speak
now? If her sentiments were not what he hoped, then anything he
said would surely alienate her totally. Then it would be impossible
even to remain upon terms with her. And that, now, would be
unendurable.