Chapter Twenty-One

 

Isabelle paced in her room, flexing her hands against her side, anticipating the time her husband would leave for his meeting. If he waited much longer, she would go insane.

Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor. She rushed to her door and pressed her ear against the wood. Marcus’ footsteps moved past her room and descended the stairs. Relieved the time had finally arrived, she quickly slipped out of her wrapper and pulled on the boys’ clothes her maid had fetched for her earlier this evening. Thankfully, her maid found large black breeches, shirt and overcoat to hide Isabelle’s womanly figure. She stuffed her long hair into a brown cap before leaving her room and sneaking down the servant’s stairs. When she reached outside without being spotted by her husband’s staff, she breathed easier.

She hurried to the stable and saddled a horse. By the time she rode away from the estate, her heart thumped faster than the horse’s gallop. Fear rested in her chest, but determination kept her going. She wouldn’t cower from her problem and would meet the challenges ahead of her with courage. Even if it meant her marriage would soon be over. Not another night would pass before she confronted her wayward husband. Her heart couldn’t take it.

If her maid hadn’t given her the directions to Meadowbrook Lane, Isabelle wouldn’t have a clue how to get there. She was too far away from her husband to trail him properly, and a light fog had covered the town, making it harder to see her way.

As she searched for the Donnelley’s old estate, she almost missed it. No lights lit the abandoned house, except for a glimmer out back in the stables. She pulled her horse to a stop and slid down. Trying to be as quiet as she could, she tied her mare to a tree and crept closer to the stables. From within, men’s voices rumbled low, and her curiosity grew. Perhaps she’d come to the wrong house.

Tiptoeing around the side of the structure, she found a window. Slowly, she peeked inside. The light from a small lantern flickered across ten men standing near the stalls. Her husband stood out; a head taller than the others. No woman attended this gathering.

Isabelle rubbed her forehead. This couldn’t be right. She’d heard her husband talk about visiting Mrs. Westland. So where was the young widow who was so desperate to sink her claws into Marcus?

The topic the men discussed was in hushed tones, and she couldn’t hear a thing. Being quiet, she sneaked around the structure to the window closer to her husband. A small crack in the glass helped her to hear what they talked about. So far Marcus remained quiet as the other men voiced their opinions.

“More of Napoleon’s spies are coming from France. We need to find a way to stop them. Soon Napoleon’s armies will take over Britain.” A portly gentleman’s face reddened as he clenched his fists by his side.

The other men agreed with loud grumbles and nods.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of the high taxes being put upon us working folk. It’s hard enough to feed our families. The longer it takes us to stop Napoleon, the higher the taxes will climb.”

“Aye,” the other men agreed.

A small, reed-thin man stepped closer and cleared his throat. “We need to find more men to help us fight for our cause. The little group we have now isn’t enough to stop Napoleon.” He shrugged. “Even though we’ll receive the shipment of guns soon, if we don’t have more men, we’re worthless.”

Isabelle gasped and jumped back, stumbling over a broken tree branch on her way. She caught herself before hitting the ground, but twisted her ankle in the process. The throb in her foot wasn’t anything like the throb in her forehead. She’d heard enough already. These men were going to raise an army against the emperor.

Impossible! She couldn’t have heard correctly, but the fierce beating in her skull let her know she had.

Her heartbeat pounded, shaking her chest considerably as she breathed slowly. How many men would they have to gather before this happens? Her husband couldn’t possibly be involved. Why, he’s a titled gentleman. Yet, these men here tonight seemed to trust Lord Lockwood or else they wouldn’t have allowed him to come to their meeting.

She sucked in a quick breath. Marcus could die. If she didn’t talk him out of this nonsense, he could be next. Although he kept a secret mistress, Isabelle didn’t wish him dead.

As she regained her composure and thought about what the men had said just now, everything made sense. She had observed people who lived in Plymouth and could see why they were upset about the taxes. Was their Prince Regent doing all he could to help? But she had heard that the prince was taxing everyone to help pay for more armies to fight off Napoleon.

Isabelle had never been into politics, but her heart wrenched for these people. She knew what it felt like not to have enough money for food or clothes.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the window, hoping to hear more. Behind her, a twig snapped and leaves crunched mere seconds before hands clamped down hard on each shoulder. Roughly, her attacker jerked her around.

“Who are you and why are you spying?” he snapped.

Through the night’s haze, she recognized the outline of the man’s face and the deep timbre of his voice. She wanted to sigh in relief that she’d been caught by Marcus, yet at the same time she didn’t want him to know why she was here.

His gaze narrowed on her before reaching up and knocking the hat from her head. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in waves. He released her as if she was hot coals.

“Isabelle?”

Sheepishly, she shrugged. “Yes, it is I.”

“But…how?” He mumbled a curse and bunched his hands into fists. “What in the blazes are you doing here?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I heard something out by the window. I thought it was an animal. Never suspected it would be my wife.” He cocked his head. “So, what are you doing here?”

She couldn’t very well hide the truth from him now. “Following you, my dear husband.”

“Whatever for?”

“To see what mischief you were involved with.”

He shook his head. “I beg of you to make sense. You are confusing me.”

She huffed and folded her arms. “I thought you were secretly meeting your mistress.”

From within the stable, the men’s voices grew louder. He cursed and grabbed her arm, pulling Isabelle away from the structure.

“Keep quiet, and maybe you won’t be discovered.”

“But, why—”

His hand covered her mouth as he pulled her against his body. “For once, do as I say.”

She wanted to slap his face, stomp on his foot, or anything to unleash her temper. For once? When had she ever disobeyed her husband? Instead of going with her first instinct, she remained quite as he pulled them farther into the wooded grove behind the stables. Each time she put pressure on her twisted ankle, it throbbed a little harder. Still, she kept beside him and didn’t make a noise.

Because of the fog, she couldn’t see the men from the meeting, but their voices grew dim and were accompanied by the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. Isabelle breathed a little easier, and Marcus’ body relaxed, too.

Up this close, she could see he’d worn his flashy clothes for tonight’s occasion. She had no idea why his attire bothered her. Maybe it was because she’d seen him in different clothes—clothes that made him more rugged and handsome. His scent of spice and leather enveloped her, making her want to close her eyes and breathe deeply as she snuggled closer. However, before she could follow her instincts, he dropped his hands and pulled away. Reality came back as loneliness consumed her chest. She would confront his secret affair and tell him she never wanted to be intimate with him again.

“Now Isabelle,” he said slowly, folding his arms across his chest, “would you kindly explain to me why you followed me?”

She nodded. “As I’d mentioned, I followed you to catch you and your mistress together.”

He cocked his head and arched his eyebrow. “My mistress? And who might that be?”

“Oh, for the love of God.” She growled. “I wish you’d stop playing these mindless games with me. I’m not a fool, Marcus, neither am I blind. I saw you and Mrs. Westland together earlier today by the docks. Not only that, I heard you and your valet talking in your study. I heard you mention her name and about meeting her tonight.”

His eyes widened, but guilt wasn’t the expression flitting across his face. Panic settled in her chest. Had she heard wrong when she’d eavesdropped?

Marcus scrubbed his chin as a smile stretched his lips. “Did you hear me actually call Mrs. Westland my mistress? Did you actually hear I was to meet her here? Tonight?”

Dread washed through her as doubt filled her. She had been wrong. His irritated expression told her she’d been very wrong. “Uh, no, not exactly. But when I saw you two in town, the woman touched you improperly. What was I to think, dear husband, especially since she had come to see me right before our wedding? She practically issued me a challenge that night. Then I see her with you. In public, no less.”

He chuckled and stepped forward. His hands snaked around her waist and pulled her against him. Still upset, her first reaction was to squirm and place her hands on his chest to keep from getting any closer. Instead, once her hands met his hard muscles, her body had a mind of its own. Without wanting to, she surrendered and melted against him.

“Thank you for being jealous,” he whispered.

She gasped, appalled by his statement. Before she could voice her opinion, he brought his mouth down and covered hers. Heat consumed her quickly, just as it had always done while being held by this incredible handsome man. His kiss entranced her. Again.

In surrender, she linked her arms around his neck and relaxed, meeting his demanding kiss with urgency. His hands wandered over her back, pulling her closer. She sighed heavily. Then he broke the kiss, and rested his cheek against hers. Ragged breaths fanned her ear.

“Oh, my darling wife,” he whispered. “I swear to you there’s no other woman in my life.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. Passion filled their depths. “Why would I seek other company when my wife pleases me beyond reason?”

“But, I saw… I heard…”

He shook his head. “And you misunderstood.” He stroked her cheek before his fingers moved down the column of her throat. “Yes, Mrs. Westland accosted me in public by the docks, but I didn’t encourage it. The reason you overheard my valet and I talking about her in my study was because I wanted my servant to take care of the woman tonight.” He brushed his lips across hers briefly. “I don’t need Mrs. Westland. Not when I have such a loving wife.”

Using both hands, he cupped her face and kissed her again. Longer this time. His gentle lips moved over hers with such passion, it brought tears to her eyes. Could what he say be true? Oh, how she prayed it was. She’d had her heart broken enough times already.

He broke the kiss again and leaned his forehead against hers. “You do, don’t you?”

“Wh—what?”

“You do love me. Right?”

Longing touched his voice, making her heart leap. Her chest burst with the emotion she didn’t want to admit had been building inside her for a few days. How could she love her husband so soon after Hawk? Yet, she did. Looking into his searching eyes, she knew she had fallen fast for this man.

Slowly, she nodded as her eyes filled with tears. “I do, Marcus. I love you—”

He released a groan and crushed his mouth over hers, silencing her words. She clung to him, answering his urgent kiss.

“Oh, Isabelle. My Isabelle,” he muttered in between breathes. “I wanted you to love me, but was afraid you wouldn’t.” His lips trailed across her cheek to her ear before he nibbled on her lobe.

Tingles shot through her. “Marcus, I couldn’t stop myself. You’re so kind—so wonderful.”

A small laugh escaped his mouth as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “I wanted to tell you of my feelings this morning. I wanted to confess my love for you, but I held back, not knowing if you loved me.”

Happiness consumed her very being, and she wanted to share everything she had with this man. Now. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the place to show such an intimate form of expression.

“Marcus? Take me home.”

He growled and lifted her in his arms, meeting her lips with his. She hooked her arms around his neck.

He carried her to his horse and sat her on before mounting behind her. As they passed her mare, he grabbed the reins and pulled the animal along.

Suddenly, she remembered the conversation she’d overheard during tonight’s meeting, and with it came panic. No matter how she looked at it, Marcus could get killed if he enlisted with those other men. Worry wrenched through her whole body, making her tremble.

“Marcus?”

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled, loving the way he said that. “Will you please tell me about your meeting tonight? Are you, and the other men serious about getting an army together to fight Napoleon?”

He stilled. “I suppose we are serious. The emperor needs to be stopped before he succeeds and takes over Britain.”

“But Marcus,” she said looking over her shoulder at him, “Napoleon is unstoppable. If you continue with this group of men, you might get killed.”

He gathered her closer and kissed her cheek. “Isabelle, I know what I’m doing. I also believe in what these men are fighting for. I don’t know what will come of it. Maybe nothing. All I know is I cannot pretend the people over here aren’t suffering because of what Napoleon is doing.”

She laid her head against his. “Marcus, I don’t think I can watch you die. Now that I found love again, I cannot have it taken away.”

He grinned. “I won’t take it away. I swear to you I’ll make you happy until we are old and gray.”

She smiled. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

He chuckled. “As long as you hold me, we shall make it. You’ll see.”

 

* * * *

 

Isabelle awoke with a smile as love bloomed in her chest. Making love to Marcus last night had been different. More meaningful. She couldn’t count how many times she murmured loving words to him, and how often he repeated them.

Since her time with Hawk, she didn’t believe she could be as happy. Now she was happier.

Marcus rose early in the morning and left the bed before she did. Did that man ever sleep? Before he left, he kissed her brow and told her he had business most of the day. She missed him already.

She climbed out of bed, bathed then dressed. During the morning meal, she tried to think of something that might keep her entertained until her husband’s return, but her mind stayed blank. All she had to keep her busy was memories of her night with Marcus.

Gentry walked in to the dining area carrying a note. “Forgive me for intruding on your meal, my lady, but you have a visitor.” He handed her the card.

She read the name scripted across the top. Earl of Blackstone. She scrunched her forehead, not recalling having met the gentleman. “Gentry? Are you certain this man is here to see me and not my husband?”

“Yes. He specifically asked for you, my lady.”

“Show him into the drawing room and I shall see him momentarily.”

He nodded, turned and left the room.

Isabelle finished eating and dabbed her mouth with the linen napkin. Who was this strange man? She still didn’t know many people in Plymouth, but as soon as her husband started taking her out in public, her situation would change.

She walked into the drawing room and stopped. Standing by the window, an older man leaned on a cane as his gaze locked on something outside. His hair was as white as snow, but he didn’t look as old as his hair suggested. There was a certain tilt to his head that reminded her of Marcus. He wasn’t as tall, nor as broad through the shoulders. However, the shape of his forehead and nose were like her husband’s. Perhaps they were related somehow.

“Good day, Lord Blackstone.”

He straightened and when his gaze met hers, he smiled wide. He assessed her slowly, and thankfully didn’t show any signs of disgust.

“Lady Lockwood, this is a delight.” He moved toward her with great difficulty, relying heavily on his cane.

She curtsied. “Lord Blackstone, forgive me, but have we met before?”

“Not at all, my dear.” He stopped in front of her, took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss. “But I couldn’t wait for formalities. Not when my son hasn’t introduced me to his wife yet.”

Shock swept through her and she gasped. “Son? You’re my husband’s father?”

“In the flesh.” He bowed. “As much as I’m vexed with him for not telling me about you, I think he has chosen wisely. You’re a very beautiful woman, if I might say.”

A blush heated her cheeks and she nodded. “You may say all you wish, as long as only compliments come from your mouth.”

He laughed and patted her hand. “Please, let us take a seat and chat. My poor legs aren’t what they used to be.” He led her to the couch and sat.

She adjusted her dress as she lowered into the chair beside him. “I must admit, I’m quite upset with my husband for not mentioning you lived so close. If I had known, I would have forced him to call upon you.”

The older man chuckled and flipped his hand in the air. “I actually live in London. I’m not from Plymouth. But I understand how busy Matthew is, which is why I don’t bother him as much..”

Confusion filled her as she narrowed her gaze on her father-in-law. Why did he call his son Matthew? “Yes, he’s very busy. In fact, he’s out right now attending to business.”

“That’s my boy.” He grinned. “He takes after his father, he does. Makes me proud to know I’ve raised Matthew the right way.”

“Lord Blackstone, may I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“You’ll probably think this sounds silly, but…why are you calling my husband Matthew?”

His eyes widened as he looked at her as if she had two heads. “Because that’s his Christian name, my dear. The very name he was given at birth.”

“True, but he told me to call him Marcus.”

The older man sucked in a quick breath. His face flamed, and his eyes darkened. Isabelle studied her father-in-law closely for his answer. Already she knew something wasn’t right. Her heart sank, and she had a very bad feeling she wasn’t going to like his answer.