Obsession Wears Opals (23 page)

“I’m going with you.”

“Isabel, you are—”

“Darius, before you say no”—she touched his sleeve—“hear me out.”

He nodded, doing his best not to compose his argument against it beforehand. “I will listen as impartially as I can.”

“Whether I am confined here or there, there is little difference. I can stay out of sight, Darius, and no one need know that I am in London. I’ll stay in whatever lodgings we secure and never see the light of day if need be, but I am more likely to be able to stay hidden in the labyrinth of Town, am I not? And if I am with you, then it is one less distraction of worry, is it not? You need not fear the not knowing if Mrs. McFadden’s niece has let it slip that she has seen me in the garden—”

“She’s seen you in the garden?” he asked in alarm.

“No, but who is to say she wouldn’t?” she countered solemnly.

“You’re making my heart race, woman.”

“Hush. What say you to my logic so far?” she asked.

“It’s terrifyingly solid.”

“Then may I add one more thing?”

“You may.” He sat down slowly, in awe of the turns of her mind.

“Well, I will avoid using the obvious emotional ploy of bringing up how precarious our time is together and how I should hate to forfeit a single second that I did not have to—should the worst ever come to pass. . . .”

“That’s very kind of you,” he noted, completely bemused.

“And instead I will tell you that I can be packed and ready to go within minutes.” She crossed her arms, as resolute as a judge. “And that if you don’t take me with you, I’ll . . .”

Her words trailed off as she obviously reached the end of her prepared remarks.

“You’ll . . . ?” he prompted.

“Resign as your secretary? Throw a temper tantrum? Walk to London on my own?” she said, then sat next to him with a sigh. “I am not one for threats. I will beg you on my knees not to leave me again in this house without you. It’s too quiet and too empty, Darius. Before—I didn’t even know you as I do now. How could I face it after what’s passed between us?”

Darius looked into her eyes and acknowledged that he felt the same way. Leaving her before had been hard enough, but now . . . it was an impossibility.

“Come to London with me, Helen.”

The joy that flooded her eyes was an instant reward, and he knew there was no turning back. He would bring her and make the best of it.

And ask Michael and the others in the Jaded to understand.

***

Isabel made good on her promise to pack quickly, once again appreciative of her small wardrobe and few personal possessions. Mrs. McFadden loaned her a valise and a small trunk, and within minutes, all was tucked away for the journey. The housekeeper was openly miserable at their departure but masked it by fussing in the kitchen and packing a hamper of food for the journey.

While Darius rushed through his own more chaotic preparations in the library to organize a few of his papers, Isabel slipped out to the stables one last time.

Samson’s head lifted the moment her feet crossed the threshold, and his loud neighing summoned her to his side. She hugged his neck and then leaned back to look into his soulful dark brown eyes. Isabel did her best not to cry, but it was as if he sensed her purpose, nuzzling her neck and hair and snuffling his soft nose against her skin.

“I know, dearest. But you cannot carry me any farther. Not today.” Isabel reached up to ever so gently cup his ears and stroke the firm lines of his neck. “Hamish will take good care of you, and as soon as I can, I will send for you! Or I’ll be back. Would you like that, my warrior? Shall we live here forever and replant the garden? Ride the Scottish countryside and see what the villagers make of us?”

She smiled. It was a sweet daydream to think of a simple life with Darius, playing secretary and drying flowers or doing whatever was required of a country wife. She had no real grasp of it, but even the vague promise of just being with Darius each day and sharing his bed each night seemed too good to hope for.

“We have to defeat the dragon, Samson, before I can have my prince.”

He whinnied again, jostling her as if to remind her that he was ever ready to fight on her behalf, dragon or no.

Chapter

19

The journey was unorthodox as he “smuggled” her back to London without a single soul seeing her. Trains were too public, so they’d secured a post chaise and Darius had paid for all the seats to make sure that they had the cramped interior of the carriage all to themselves. Even so, Isabel wore a veil over her bonnet, her hair tightly braided and tucked up whenever they stopped for fresh horses and meals. Darius addressed her as Helen Stewart if there was anyone within hearing and made a point of leaving no trace of their identities behind them.

The pace was not as dreadful as his previous journey’s, and Isabel’s company made it all bearable. He liked the intimacy of their private meals and shared hardships, and strove to make things as comfortable for her as possible.

As the city loomed closer and closer, Darius pushed away the growing feeling that he was leading her like a lamb into the slaughterhouse.

God, if her husband finds us now, there’ll be no escape.

As they transferred to a hackney, he signaled a runner and handed off the note he’d already prepared to send word to the Jaded that he was back in London and needed to see them at Rowan’s right away. He included no explanations but knew his friends would trust the summons and come without question.

The questions will come later, no doubt.

I just pray they won’t mind the answers.

After long days, the Grove was a welcome sight, and Darius paid the driver to wait with Isabel hidden inside the carriage while he went in to see about rooms.

He took off his hat as the landlady approached. “I’m not sure if you remember me, Mrs. Clay, but I am a friend of Mr. Rutherford’s and—”

“Mr. Thorne!” Mrs. Clay interrupted him cheerfully, setting down a large tray of pewter cups. “Of course I remember you! You have been here once or twice, and from Mr. Hastings’s account of that dreadful night at the Thistle, why you must be one of my favorite persons!”

He shook his head. “Josiah is prone to exaggeration but I thank you for that.”

“Have you come for Mr. Rutherford? He’s out today and I’ve got Tally up there pulling linens and doing all he can to clean the room. It’s a good chance to see to matters without bothering my dear giant!” Mrs. Clay beamed. “Will you stop for a bit of tea?”

Darius struggled not to laugh. Mrs. Clay’s enthusiastic and friendly manners were legendary in their small circle, but he marveled at how much a woman could convey in so short a time. “I was wondering if the apartment that Miss Beckett had occupied is available?”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Clay sighed, then instantly cheered. “I’ve brought a young girl in, an acquaintance of Miss Beckett’s—I mean, the new Mrs. Hastings, as you know. She introduced me to her young friend by the name of Margaret Beecham, and the girl has been a godsend. Maggie’s such a sweet thing and so eager to please and learn the business. I needed another pair of hands, and in exchange for her place, I’m giving her room and board along with a modest wage.” She smoothed her hands over her apron. “It’s tough times and a young woman without family . . . I just couldn’t allow it. There’s a pure little bird who just needed a warm nest and a mother’s care. And I don’t allow any grabbing or nonsense in my common room so she’s safe as churches here. Although, I fear Tally’s losing his heart again!”

Darius tried again. “Then another pair of rooms perhaps? I have a friend looking for discreet accommodations. I know she would be safe here, under your good care. And I need a place to set down my luggage.”

“Of course! I pride myself on maintaining a respectable inn and allow no rough trade here.” Mrs. Clay stepped forward, lowering her voice. “Discreet, you say?”

“You are someone I trust entirely, Mrs. Clay. She is a respectable lady, and I would never willingly bring trouble to your doorstep, but I cannot leave her in just any public house, and a hotel . . .” Darius took a deep breath. “A hotel would expose her to too many eyes.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Clay exclaimed softly, nodding as if she were instantly aware of all. “I’ve a good room for her and another to suit you. But I don’t allow—” Mrs. Clay pressed her lips together. “If you’re calling on her, you can use the private first-floor parlor for meals and conversation, but I don’t allow a gentleman into a lady’s room for social visits. Even men of good character, so no getting around me, Mr. Thorne!”

It made perfect sense, but it ground against him to be parted from her. Even so, he knew he had no other choice. They were exhausted from traveling and Isabel needed a haven. The Grove was perfect, and with Michael on hand for security and Mrs. Clay’s protective wings, Darius couldn’t imagine a better choice.

“No, Mrs. Clay. No getting around you. I swear it.”

“Lovely! The common room’s fairly deserted at this hour, so no worries coming through to the west stairs. I’ll ring Maggie to show you both up, and let me get a boy to help you with your things.” Mrs. Clay retrieved her tray. “And may I say, it’s a pleasure to have you as a guest, Mr. Thorne!”

“You’re too kind.” He gave her a half bow and made his way back out to Isabel and the waiting carriage.

He hailed the driver just as one of Mrs. Clay’s burly male employees came out for the luggage. “If you’ll give him a hand with our things, sir.”

The driver touched his hat brim and climbed down as Darius opened the carriage door. Even at such a moment, she was a sight of delicate beauty that made his chest ache. “Mrs. Clay has a room for each of us and will see to your privacy, dearest. If you’ll pull up your hood and use that sheer scarf, we’ll make the most of it and get you safely upstairs.”

Isabel complied, giving him a saucy smile. “The landlady must think me a scandalous guest!”

“Mrs. Clay thinks only that I’m to respect the sanctity of your rooms so that she can mother and spoil you, from what I can gather.” He held out his hand to help her down. The gloved hand that slid into his was trembling but Darius did his best to pretend not to notice.

“I don’t want to be alone, Darius.”

“I know. Let me see what I can do.” He guided her up the walk, and as promised, a young woman was coming down the stairs to meet them.

“I’m Maggie Beecham and I’m to welcome you to the Grove,” she said, then added an awkward curtsy. Her dress was modest and pressed, her bright eyes spoiling her efforts to appear serious. “If you’ll follow me.”

She led them through the main dining room and common area and then up the west stairs to the first floor. “Mrs. Clay wanted me to tell you that anything you need, you just ring the bell. Good and hard so that Tally can mind it as well. He’s deaf and mute but a lamb really.”

They reached a door near the end of the hall, a good quiet distance from the stairwell. “Here we are,” she announced and opened the door with a key before standing aside. “I hope it meets with your approval. I’ll send Tally up with coal for the fireplaces and that will cozy it up for you.”

Isabel stepped inside, a mysterious woman with her face concealed by the sheer scarf and the cowl of her cape. “It’s lovely.”

It was a good-size room, with dark green drapes and bedding that might have seen better days, but it smelled of sunshine and beeswax and every surface gleamed with the care of its landlady’s hands.

Maggie set the key down on a side table. “It gets good light considering it’s February, and there’s a lovely sitting area.”

“And my room?” Darius asked.

Maggie nodded. “This way, sir.”

He gave Isabel an encouraging smile before he followed the young miss out, anxious to map the route to his room so that he could retrace his steps back to Isabel at the first opportunity. So when they only went ten steps, Darius nearly ran over Miss Beecham. “Here?”

“Yes, sir.” Maggie pushed the door open and Darius immediately realized he was looking at the room directly next to Isabel’s, with drapes and bedding the color of pomegranates. “There’s a window seat, and as I said, I’ll have Tally cozy it up for you. And there’s . . . that.”

“That?” Darius asked, following her gaze to the paneled wall.

Maggie blushed. “I’m to say again how respectable the Grove is and how proud Mrs. Clay is of her reputation.” The girl moved to the wall and, even as she spoke, demonstrated how the hidden door between the rooms worked. “And well I know it! She took me in from the streets and has given me a chance to truly make something of myself, sir. This is a good place. So,” Maggie said firmly, “I’m to give the lady the key that locks the other side. So it’s all square.”

“Understood. Thank you, Miss Beecham.”

“Would you like something from the kitchens sent up, sir? If you’ve only just arrived in London, you must be famished and ready to set for a while.”

“You’re an angel, yes, thank you.”

Maggie blushed again. “I? I’m many things, but an angel is not one of my claims. But I do aspire to better things and I am lucky in my friendships of late. Well, Daniel will be up with your bags and will help you get sorted. I’ll see what Cook has for you.” She curtsied and scurried off before he could thank her again.

Darius walked over to the secret door, testing the latch hidden in the carved panel and admiring the workmanship. He was tempted to try it but knew better than to startle Isabel when her nerves were already on edge. Instead he went back to her open doorway and leaned against the frame, hoping to elicit a smile.

“So much for my worries about creeping long hallways in the dark,” he said.

“Your room is there, isn’t it?” Isabel pointed at the wall they shared.

“Closer than you know,” he added. “Apparently, there’s a secret door. Maggie was to give you the key so that I couldn’t take advantage.”

“Ah!” Isabel unfolded one gloved hand to reveal a large, ornate key. “I was wondering what this was. She just darted in to hand it to me and then rushed off without a word.”

“It’s there. If only to make you feel better that you can reach me if you need to,” he said, then crossed his arms. “It
is
London. I would understand if you chose to leave it latched—”

“No! Are you insinuating that I loved you only when it was remote and easy, that my feelings for you might have changed because we’re in the city and the danger of discovery is greater?” She laid the key on the mantel. “Or that here the rules of society apply differently?”

“I suppose not.” He had to swallow the lump that rose in his throat.
I’m as guilty of trespassing here as I was there—but somehow with the weight of it all pressing in and the trust she’s put in me by coming here—please God, don’t let me fail her.
“Mrs. Clay is too astute to have fooled for long, so I’m pleased to think that the White Queen can summon me when she wishes.”

The sound of the man bringing up their trunks ended the exchange, and Isabel nervously pulled her veil back into place to shield her unique coloring from view.

Darius helped them sort out the boxes and then paid the footman for his aid. “Please tell the driver I’ll be back down and in need of his services for a while longer.”

“Will do, sir.” The man ducked his head and hurried back down the hall to the stairs.

“You’ll need the carriage?” Isabel asked.

“I’m going to Rowan’s to meet with the others.”

***

Isabel nervously unpacked her trunk. It only took a few minutes to hang up the dresses she possessed and to put away her things.

She’d abandoned dozens and dozens of gorgeous gowns, a life of luxury that so many would have envied; the life that she had been raised to expect.

The life I would still have but for Richard. . . .

I would still be that spoiled and pampered pet if the man holding the leash hadn’t turned out to be a demon in disguise.

It was like recalling someone else when she thought of Miss Isabel Penleigh.

I like being Helen Stewart.

Her eyes trailed around the room again, surveying every detail and fighting off the melancholy that nibbled at the edges of her mood. Because in her quest for freedom from her marriage, she’d become more and more confined. It was temporary, Darius had tried to reassure her, but it was harder to appear brave as she faced the reality of her return to London.

She would be unable to leave these rooms. Not even to walk down to the common room unless she wore her cloak and veil for fear that some guest would recognize her or notice her coloring to make a comment to the wrong person.

One whisper, one breath of gossip or speculation about the mysterious woman staying at the Grove and Richard could be standing on her doorstep and all would be lost.

I am a prisoner, just like Helen of Troy. I’m with the man I love but I’m trapped, too. God help me.

She pulled out the wooden box he’d set on the bed and lifted the lid.

It was the chess set.

Tears filled her eyes at the sight of it. All the love and patience he’d shown her was manifested in the neat rows of black and white carved figurines lying atop the red velvet, awaiting their next battle.

“I am the most powerful piece in the game,” she said softly.

She pulled out the board from the hidden drawer underneath and slowly set out the elements on the table by the window, her nerves soothed by the ritual and the promise of Darius’s return.