VIscount Besieged (29 page)

‘
I
was only going to say that you need not concern yourself about it,’
Isadora pursued anxiously. ‘I could not bear to be the cause of
involving you in any more expense at the present time. You must
have enough on your hands as it is.’

He was touched.
Though he might have guessed that Isadora would be as generous an
ally as she had been implacable an enemy. Was she not a creature of
extremes?

‘
Isadora, that is a generous thought,’ he said warmly. ‘But
what concerns me the most is that no one should suffer for my
father’s depredations upon the estate. Besides, in a way I owe your
family more than my own. The inheritance of your father’s property
must be counted a godsend. I am heartily glad of it, but only
insofar as it will enable me, by raising capital, to provide for us
all eventually.’

‘
Then
you don’t intend to pay Syderstone with the proceeds?’ she asked
eagerly.

‘
Heaven forbid! Though his purpose in seeking me out was to
persuade me to do so.’

‘
For
my part, I think you should refuse to pay him at all.’

Roborough gave a
short laugh. ‘Unhappily that is not a solution that is open to
me.’

Isadora frowned
deeply. ‘Do you suppose he would release you from the obligation if
I married him?’

‘
Since you are going to do no such thing,’ he snapped, ‘we
shall never know.’

‘
Well, but—’

‘
Loath as I am to reopen hostilities, Isadora, I warn you that
if I hear any more on this head I shall be obliged to take strict
measures of prevention.’

Isadora was
conscious of the oddest sensation as she stared at him—a glow that
seemed to spread right down to her toes, and a feeling of intense
satisfaction.

‘
You
don’t wish me to marry him?’ she asked, as if driven to the
question.

‘
I
don’t wish you to marry anyone,’ Roborough retorted in a harassed
sort of way.

God, but in a
moment he would be saying precisely those things he had determined
not to say. Not yet. Why she was not cutting at him for daring to
dictate to her on such matters he could not fathom. He drew a
steadying breath, trying for a measure of calm.

‘
All
I am trying to say is that there is no necessity for you—or anyone,
for that matter—to be thinking of personal sacrifices. We are not
out of the woods by any means, but once the Pusay house is sold we
may at least look to a promising future.’

Isadora was
silent. If she had hoped for a declaration she had been deservedly
set down. Not that she had. She could not imagine why she was even
thinking of such a thing. It was not as if she wished to marry
Roborough. Why, if Harriet had not persisted in holding him up as
the ideal, it would never have occurred to her. Yet she was
conscious of disappointment out of all proportion to the event.
With an inward sigh, she turned her attention to the matter in
hand.

‘
All
very well to be thinking of the future,’ she said slowly, ‘but what
of the immediate present? Is the situation very bad?’

‘
I
have told you, Isadora,’ he said mildly. ‘There is no need for you
to worry your head over it.’

Her temper
flared. ‘Don’t treat me like a child!’

‘
Did
I do so? I beg your pardon. I just don’t want you to become
involved.’

‘
That
is absurd. I am involved. Why in the world should you not trust me
with the truth?’

A short laugh
escaped him. ‘That is rich, coming from you.’

‘
You
mean because I would not trust you? Whose fault is that, I should
like to know?’

Roborough raised
his eyes heavenwards. ‘I might have known. It is my fault, of
course, that you could not find it in yourself to trust me—despite
the fact that you discovered me not to be my father, who had given
you cause for offence, despite the fact that you were the one
listening at doors, not I—and making what you chose out of
everything you overheard.’

‘
All
of which you could readily have avoided,’ returned Isadora
wrathfully, ‘had you been honest enough at the outset to tell me
the truth. But of course I am merely a stupid female who cannot
begin to understand matters of business.’

‘
Nothing of the sort, but—’

‘
Roborough,’ she said ominously, ‘you are conducting yourself
precisely in the same way as you have done all along. And that, let
me tell you, is certain to end in my quarrelling with you all over
again.’

He grinned. ‘I
am scarcely fool enough to suppose that you are done quarrelling
with me merely because you have choked yourself over an
apology.’

She laughed but,
reaching out her hands towards him, she said earnestly, ‘Pray tell
me the true situation. I want to understand it all, truly I
do.’

He automatically
grasped her hands, holding them hard. ‘You compel me to answer you.
Perhaps I did contribute to your mistrust.’

Her fingers
clung to his, although she scarcely noticed, so important did it
seem to her that she should gain his confidence. ‘You did, and you
continue so to do every moment that you deny me access to your
thoughts. How can you expect trust and—and faith, if you will not
be open with me?’

For a moment he
was tempted—to be utterly open. But the thought of seeing that
mercurial temperament turn once more against him—no, he could not
endure it. Too dangerous. By comparison, the prospect of relaying
to her the details of his sorry situation seemed ridiculously
simple. He could not fathom now why he had not done so
before.

‘
You
are right. I have been too cautious. Let us sit down a
little.’

Leading her to
the fallen tree-trunks, he obliged her to take a rather precarious
seat there, himself perching beside her. Supporting his hands on
the tree beneath him, he looked over to where the two horses were
quietly cropping at the grass.

‘
The
situation is extremely serious. There is no ready cash, and nothing
with which to realise any. Not here, in any event. About the only
thing my father did not do—and only because he could not—was
mortgage the house. The rents have been raised beyond what is
either fair or acceptable, and many of our tenants have moved away
as a result. No repairs have been effected for several years. In a
word, we are cleaned out.’

‘
But
did not your father ever win?’

‘
Of
course he won. But your true gambler loses as much as he wins—and
more.’

His voice was so
full of bitterness that Isadora ached to comfort him. She spoke the
thought in her mind.

‘
I
see what it is. You feel cheated.’

Roborough turned
to look at her. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I do.’

‘
There is every reason why you should. Why, in your place, I
should be livid.’

He grinned
briefly. ‘I don’t doubt it. But I am not proud of such a feeling. I
wish I might take it all in my stride. After all, I have known for
years what I was likely to find.’

‘
Knowing something will happen does not necessarily arm one
against the shock of it, or lessen the feelings involved,’ Isadora
offered. ‘Papa’s death—’ She hardly noticed that she used the dread
word with unaccustomed ease ‘—is a case in point. We knew he was
dying. He was even glad of it, for he told me so. But we were
devastated when it happened none the less.’

‘
Yes,
I think I see. My mother, who had as I thought been soured forever,
was thrown into deepest gloom when my father died.’

‘
She
must have cared for him, in spite of all.’

Isadora scarcely
realised what she had said. It was as if a key had turned suddenly,
opening her mind to her own inspection. She had cared—in spite of
all.

She stared at
Roborough’s profile, for he was no longer looking at her, but
gazing at the horses. Was it possible? Had he insinuated himself so
thoroughly into her affections that she had been fighting against
the feeling—all this time—because of what she had thought she knew
to his discredit?

‘
What
is it?’

The question
came softly, and she realised that he had turned, was meeting her
eyes, a concerned frown in his own. What could she say? Heat—the
unpleasant heat of embarrassment—swept through her.

‘
N-nothing,’ she stammered, quickly rising from the trunk of
the tree and moving away.

He was up at
once, following her. He grasped her shoulders and turned her to
face him. ‘Isadora, don’t you shut me out now.’

Involuntarily
she looked up, meeting his anxious gaze. It was not in her to
prevaricate. Yet her tongue would not utter the words she wanted so
desperately to say.

‘
I
am…confused,’ was all she could manage.

‘
What
confuses you?’ he asked gently.

‘
You
do. You confuse me. I thought I knew—understood at least,
but…’

She meant that
she had understood her own emotions, only to find them overturning
in a manner that both shocked and appalled her. She could not be
feeling this.

But Roborough
took her words quite differently. ‘You are having doubts of my
character again? Why, what have I said?’

‘
Nothing. I don’t mean that.’

‘
Then
what do you mean?’

‘
If I
knew, I would not be confused, would I?’ she threw at him,
overwhelmed by the bewildering sensations in her
breast.

He laughed and
released her. ‘Now I am confused. I’m damned—if you will forgive
the expression—if I know what to make of you, Isadora Alvescot.’ He
made a move towards the horses. ‘But come. We shall be
missed.’

On the whole,
Isadora was rather relieved as she settled herself after Roborough
had helped her into the saddle. She needed time to sort this all
out. There was no need to converse as they cantered back towards
the mansion and her confusion began to subside. She was rather
inclined to suppose that she must temporarily have taken leave of
her senses. For a few perilous moments she had actually believed
that she had come to care for Roborough.

Now that they
were riding companionably side by side, however, the odd sensations
had left her—fortunately. God knew she did not wish to feel like
that about him. He might not be the villain she had taken him for,
but one did not, all in a minute, alter one’s mind about someone to
that degree. Great heavens, she had been mad! Or perhaps she had
imagined it. Moved, no doubt, by compassion, she had mistaken that
feeling for something warmer. Her attention was recalled by the
viscount as they came within sight of the stables.

‘
Good
God, who is this turning up at such an hour?’

Glancing in the
direction of his gaze, Isadora perceived that a travelling
carriage stood beside the stables. It had evidently only just
arrived for the grooms were still releasing the team of horses from
the shafts. A dreadful thought struck her.

‘
Don’t say it is Syderstone come to plague you
again.’

‘
No,
no. He always drives himself in his curricle.’ Then Roborough’s
tone altered, something of pleasurable excitement entering it. ‘I
fancy I know those horses. Ursula, by all that’s
wonderful!’

He spurred his
horse as he spoke, cantering quickly up to the vehicle.
Automatically, Isadora urged her own mount to a faster pace. But
before she could catch up she saw Roborough raise a hand in salute,
calling out a jovial greeting.

‘
I
knew it was you, you rogue!’

All at once,
Isadora caught sight of a female figure moving out of the shadow of
the house towards the stables. Bringing her horse to a standstill,
she watched the viscount leap from the saddle and stride towards
the woman.

A feminine laugh
rang out, and the female, an elegant vision in a black pelisse with
a fashionable feathered bonnet perched on a riot of golden locks,
held out welcoming hands.

‘
Titus, my dearest!’

‘
Ursula, my love!’ came the glad cry in response as the
viscount seized the proffered hands.

Isadora sat as
if turned to stone. Blank emptiness stifled every thought but one.
Roborough was hugging this female as if his life depended upon it.
Her pulse started up again, her heart hammering painfully in her
breast. Who was she? Did it matter who she was? All that mattered
was what Roborough had called her. His love?

Something
stabbed in her chest. Nausea came up from her stomach to choke her.
Then an alien voice penetrated.

‘
Miss? Can I assist you to alight?’

One of the
grooms was standing at her horse’s head.

‘
Oh
yes, th—thank you,’ she managed to say through lips that were numb
and stiff.

Her limbs felt
as if they did not belong to her as she made ready to dismount,
sliding to the ground with the groom’s assistance. She was amazed
that her legs did not buckle under her. Thank heaven they did not,
for she must get away. Go inside. Escape
.
On what pretext?
Her brain did not seem to wish to operate. But yes, she must
change. It was breakfast-time, was it not? She could not breakfast
in her riding dress.