Rock continued, “That night, she came to him again. Unharmed.”
He did not elaborate, but Isabel was no fool. She felt sick at the idea of him with the woman. “Was she very beautiful? “ The question was out before she could take it back.
“Yes. Very.”
Isabel hated her.
“Her beauty was overshadowed by her being evil incarnate.” Rock pressed on. “He begged her to stay with him that night. Assured her that he would keep her safe. Promised her safe travels back to England. She agreed, but refused to leave immediately—gave him some excuse about possessions or some such. He believed her, and they arranged a meeting place and time when he would collect her. And they would run away.”
Dread settled in Isabel’s chest. She knew what was coming, but could not stop herself from listening.
“It was a trap, of course. The Empire knew that the bulan was there, that he was searching for the informant. And they’d somehow discovered that it was Nick for whom they were looking. I was nearby when they took him. I watched the whole thing.” He stopped, lost in the past. “This is the part that I remember the most—it took six enormous Turks, bigger than me, to hold him. When he was subdued, Alana approached, removed her veil, and spat in his face.”
Isabel recoiled at the image of the betrayal.
“He told me that he deserved the scar.”
Rock nodded once. “He thinks he did. As punishment for falling victim to her womanly charms. For believing that she loved him.”
They were silent for long moments as the truth of Nick’s past settled between them. Isabel flinched at the pain he must have felt, having been laid low by a woman he loved.
No wonder he had left.
She had done the same thing.
Rock continued, unaware of the turmoil she was experiencing. “He swore off women then. I’ve never known him to tie himself to one since. Not until we came here. Not until you.”
The words were a physical blow. He had opened himself to her, trusting himself to love again. Trusting her to accept that love. And she had rejected it. Rejected him.
She was going to be sick.
He leaned forward, recognizing her turmoil. “Isabel. He loves you.”
The words made it worse. “I did the same thing she did.” His protest was immediate and unyielding. “No. You did not.”
“He loves me. And I rejected him.”
“Isabel. She betrayed him. She sent him to prison. She had him tortured. He would have died had I not found him.” He paused, using it to emphasize his words. “You are the very opposite of what she was.”
She shook her head. “He does not know that.”
“Yes, Isabel. He does. He just needs time.”
“How much time? ”
“I don’t know. He will not be able to stay away, though. That I can guarantee.”
They were quiet for long minutes, the sound of crickets in the background. Isabel thought about Rock’s story and her own time with Nick.
For her entire life, she had been afraid to take what she wanted for fear of failure. She was afraid to leave Townsend Park and face the gossip that her father caused; she was afraid to send James to school for fear that he might turn into her father.
And she had been afraid to love Nick, for fear of losing herself.
Now, however—without him—she was lost anyway.
But she had a chance to make it right. To make it better.
To have the life of which she’d begun to dream.
All she had to do was reach out and take it.
Take him.
She stood, looking down at Rock. “I want to go after him.”
Rock’s brows shot up. “Now? ”
“Now. Where is he? ”
“Halfway to London, I would imagine.”
London.
She nodded. “Then London it is.”
He stood. “I shall take you.”
She shook her head. “No. I must do this alone.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “Isabel. Nick will have my head if I let you travel to London on your own.”
“It will be fine. I shall go by mail coach.”
Rock laughed at the ridiculous prospect. “He shall kill me without a second thought if I allow you to do that.”
“Why? Plenty of girls come here by mail.”
“Yes. Well, you are Lady Nicholas St. John now, sister-in-law to the Marquess of Ralston. You do not travel by mail.”
The conversation was taking up valuable time. She acquiesced to speed the process. “Fine. How do you suggest I go?”
“We shall rent a coach and six tomorrow morning.”
“We shan’t be there for days!”
He sighed. “If we stop only to change horses, we shall be there in two and a half days. Mail coach will take four at the least.”
Isabel’s face lit. “Then your escort would be much appreciated, good sir.”
Rock looked up to the sky. “He’s going to flay me for this.”
She smiled. “Not if I succeed in winning him back. In that case, he shall be eternally grateful.” She turned and headed up the stairs, eager to prepare for the journey. Several steps from the top, she turned back. “Wait. Where do we go once we are in London? ”
Rock did not hesitate. “We go to Ralston House. You will need the assistance of the marchioness.”
Twenty-two
I should kill you for forcing me to do this.”
“Probably. But you won’t. It’s your own fault for returning to London. If I were you, I would have stayed away for the rest of summer.”
“How would I have known that Callie was hosting a summer ball?” Nick took a long drink from the tumbler of scotch he held, stopping to scowl at his brother. The twins sat in Ralston’s study as the orchestra in the gardens beyond began tuning their instruments. In less than an hour, half of London’s elite—the half that had remained in town for the month of July—would be in the gardens, as well. Nick fidgeted in his formal attire. “Who has even heard of a summer ball?”