Sunrise with a Notorious Lord Page 18

  Mrs. Allen listened for Isabel’s reply. When none came, she continued, “Mrs. Thorne has expressed a desire to speak with the earl. So far, I have managed to talk her out of it, and she remains in her room.”

  Good grief, the notion of Sybil explaining anything to Vane froze the blood in Isabel’s veins. Coming to a decision, she strode toward the door.

  Unaware of her mistress’s actions, Mrs. Allen spoke with a sense of urgency, “Nevertheless, that angry young man pacing the threadbare rug in the study will not leave the house until he sees you. If you refuse, he is likely—”

  When Isabel opened the door, the housekeeper sagged with relief. “This house has turned into bedlam since your mother’s arrival. You need to put things in order, Miss Thorne.”

  Mrs. Allen’s scolding was exactly what Isabel needed to coax her out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. “Make certain my mother remains in her room. Ply her with one of your special teas if you must.”

  “Very good, Miss Thorne.”

  Isabel halted at the entrance of the study, allowing her greedy gaze to commit every detail and line to memory. Vane still wore his evening clothes, and it appeared sleep had eluded him, too. He looked dreadful, but also wonderful. When he realized he was being observed, he froze and slowly turned around to confront her.

  “I wondered if you’d have the courage to see me.”

  His cutting remark struck with impressive accuracy. Since she deserved it, Isabel ignored his baiting and sat down on the settee. She did not invite him to join her, doubting he planned to remain in the same room any longer than it took him to rid himself of the vitriol burning in his stomach.

  “Have you nothing to say?” he said thickly.

  “My lord, I am so sorry—”

  He silenced her with a gesture. “Spare me your regrets. You have been thoroughly caught, Miss Thorne, and I demand an explanation.”

  “What is the point, my lord? Last evening, you judged me and found me guilty.”

  “You lied to me.” Frustrated, he speared his fingers through his uncombed hair. “Our first meeting was even a lie!”

  “Yes.” Isabel saw no reason to hide anything from him. “Your mother told me where you and your—your mistress would be that afternoon. She trusted me to arrange an introduction with my sister that would not make you suspicious.”

  “And the pickpocket?”

  “One of Mrs. Allen’s nephews.” She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I intended to feign an injury to gain your sympathy. However, the boy panicked and I truly twisted my ankle when I fell.”

  Isabel cried out in fear as Vane dropped to his knees in front of her and seized her hands. “Tell me, Isabel. Was everything a sham? Did you accept my offer of friendship because you were counting on me to choose your sister over you?”

  She had ruined everything. Unable to meet his furious gaze, she concentrated on his fingers. He was gripping her hands so fiercely, she would have bruises by morning.

  “Yes. It was simple enough to include Delia, and your mother was pleased that you had taken an interest in her.”

  He released her with a curse on his lips. “Damn it, Isabel, I took an interest in you. From the very beginning, it was you, and you betrayed me. Every smile and timid glance, the honeyed lies that dripped from your tongue each time you spoke.”

  His thunderous expression revealed just how close he was to losing his temper. He stared down at her as if he hated her.

  “And what of your innocence? Was that feigned, too?”

  It was a vile taunt. Isabel thought he was beneath such calculating cruelty. Then again, perhaps they did not truly know each other.

  She deliberately met his harsh gaze. “No, my lord. You took my innocence.”

  Vane pointed his finger at her. “By God, you will not lay ravishment at my feet. You gave yourself freely.”

  “Yes.”

  Her quiet acquiescence only seemed to enrage him. “It was not enough to have me merrily dancing on your strings. You had to ensnare me further, using your virginal body to bind me to you.”

  “It was nothing like that,” she snapped, her composure crumbling with his horrid accusations. “Do not sully what we shared.”

  “No, Miss Thorne, you already did that with your deceit,” he shouted back at her. “What were your intentions? Did you think I would be so smitten that I would marry Delia?”

  Her tears coursed down her cheeks. “I do not know what I was thinking! Your mother kept insisting that Delia was perfect for you. I did not want to disappoint her, and yet the more time I spent with you, the more conflicted I became.”

  Vane remained unmoved by her tears or her rambling explanation. “And what of Ruddel?”

  Isabel sniffed. “Once he learned of my ruse, he offered to make the betrothal genuine, but I do not plan to accept.”

  “I paid a visit to Lord Botly,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

  Anger unfurled in her chest for the first time since she’d entered the study. She rose from the settee. “What gave you the right to speak to him?” she demanded, thoroughly incensed that he had gone behind her back.

  “You did.” He lowered his chin so they were almost nose-to-nose. “The night you surrendered your innocence and became my lover, you became mine. Botly was behaving like an arse. I thought I might be able to reason with him, and if that didn’t work, then I was willing to settle for straightforward threats.”

  Isabel’s eyes widened as her fingers dug into her temples. “I cannot believe you threatened that old man!”

  “What makes you think reasoning didn’t work?”

  She gave him a scathing look. “Because that unreasonable old man turned away his own daughter when she needed her family. He has never acknowledged that he even has granddaughters … as far as Lord Botly is concerned, we might as well be baseborn.” The sound she made was a mix of bewilderment and outrage. “Just when I thought things could not get worse. You had to meddle in my business.”

  His mocking bow had her grinding her molars. “Forgive me, Miss Thorne. I see that I have overstayed my welcome.” He headed for the door.

  “You ruined everything!” she shouted at his back, knowing as the accusation escaped her parted lips that she was being unfair.

  Vane paused, and glanced over his shoulder. “No, Isabel. You did. I fell in love with you.”

  He left her standing alone in the middle of the study.

  “Now who is the liar!” she cried at the sound of the door slamming shut.

  The man who had just claimed he loved her had walked out of her life.

  Sobbing, she crawled onto the settee and buried her face against the padded armrest. Isabel felt Mrs. Allen’s strong arms encircle her as she was pulled into a comforting embrace.

  “He hates me!”

  “Hush, now, child,” she crooned, rocking her. “Your earl will be back.”

  Isabel shook her head. Mrs. Allen was wrong. Vane would never forgive her for her lies and conspiring with his mother.

  “No, he’s right. I have ruined everything!”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “I never thought I would see the day when my own mother would betray me.”

  His mother peered up from her embroidery. “Really, Christopher, that is being a tad dramatic, do you not think? I merely provided you with the opportunity to meet two ladies you would never have encountered on your own. Admit it. You would have given me a dozen excuses if I had asked you to meet the Thorne sisters.”

  Vane saw no point in refuting his mother’s claims. He had been avoiding her attempts at matchmaking. Too restless to stand still, he paced in front of the sofa and concentrated on his bitterness.

  “And Isabel. She had me completely fooled. I never met a more skillful liar, and having known Frost for fifteen years that is quite an achievement.”

  “Pish! Isabel is no more a liar than you.”

  Vane did not know how to respond. He rubbed the back of his neck. Since he h
ad walked out of the Thorne residence, the knotted muscles were giving him a nasty headache. “If I am a liar, then I learned from the best.”

  “And who is that, dear?”

  “You!”

  Unperturbed, the marchioness put aside her embroidery. “And exactly how did I lie to you, Christopher,” she asked, removing the spectacles she wore for close work. She placed them on the table.

  “You never mentioned meeting Isabel and Delia at Cotersage. Hell, you did not mention traveling to the village at all.”

  “And why would I?” she asked in reasonable tones that made him feel like a brute. “Do you regale me with every aspect of your life? No. Nevertheless, if you had inquired about my little trip to Cotersage, I would have told you the truth. I was visiting a cousin of mine. It was she who introduced me to Mrs. Thorne and her daughters.”

  “Do not play games, Mother. I am aware that you invited Isabel to London,” he said scathingly, his ire renewed as he recalled what he had learned the previous evening and his recent confrontation with Isabel.

  “And so I did. Thanks to their neglectful mother, Isabel and Delia were withering in Cotersage. I thought a visit to London might improve their spirits.”

  Vane groaned, fighting the urge not to throttle his own mother. “How far do you want to push me? I know of the proposition you made to Isabel. I am also aware that the day I met Isabel and Delia in the dressmaker’s shop, the meeting was orchestrated by you and Isabel.”

  His mother looked warily at him before she opened her mouth.

  Vane ruthlessly cut into her next words. “Do not bother denying it. Isabel admitted that much to me.”

  “I had no intention of denying it, dear boy. It is true that I sent Isabel to the shop. I knew you would be there with that greedy creature, Miss Corsar.”

  “And how did you learn that salient fact. Do you have spies in my household?” he said, aghast that someone had been reporting the details of his life back to his mother. “Who?” If necessary, he would fire his entire staff.

  “Really, Christopher. You have a suspicious nature. No one told me that you were going to be at the dressmaker’s shop. It was I who suggested it to Miss Corsar when I chatted with her.”

  His mother had paid a visit to his mistress. Vane covered his face with his hand and collapsed into a chair. “Have you no shame?”

  “I could ask the same of you. Miss Corsar was entirely unsuitable. I’ll wager she was rather disappointing as a mistress.”

  Vane opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it. He refused to discuss his former mistress with his mother. Ever. In an attempt to change the subject, he said, “So you ordered Isabel to find a way to introduce herself to me.”

  “The shop seemed like a less threatening way to meet her and her sister. My word, you’ve become positively skittish when I try to introduce respectable young ladies to you. A more inventive approach was called for.”

  Vane let his hand fall away from his face. “Because you’ve got some maggoty notion that I should marry Delia,” he sneered.

  Isabel had offered him friendship, and he had been relieved that she had sought nothing more from him. Even when she had surrendered to passion and given him her innocence, she had asked nothing from him. It had been trickery to lower his guard and gain his trust. The silly fool had sacrificed everything for her ungrateful sister.

  “Wrong! I never wanted you to marry Delia.”

  His gaze shot up and locked onto his mother’s. “There is no reason to deny it. Isabel told me everything.”

  “Isabel only told you the part of my plan that I revealed to her.”

  Vane gave a humorless snort. “Isabel Thorne does not warrant your protection, Mother. She willingly participated in your schemes, and was prepared to sacrifice everything in your name. You should be proud.”

  “No!” Showing the first signs of agitation, his mother braced her hand on the armrest and leaned forward. “Oh, you’ve got it all wrong. Isabel was my plan. I brought her to London for you, you ungrateful child!”

  The lack of sleep was making his head spin. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning,” he said gruffly, feeling like a bounder when the marchioness retrieved a handkerchief from her embroidery basket.

  “I was not lying about how we met. I did travel to Cotersage to visit my cousin, and it was through her that I met the Thornes.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “It took only minutes for me to realize she was perfect for you!”

  She glared at Vane, silently accusing him for not coming to the same conclusion.

  He straightened in his chair as he recalled one of their earlier conversations about Isabel. “You told me that Isabel was all wrong for me—that you would be disappointed if I pursued such a spiritless young lady.”

  “All lies. I adore Isabel, but if I said as much, you would have avoided her without a second glance.”

  It did not set well with him knowing that she spoke the truth.

  “Isabel believes you wanted me to marry Delia.”

  For the first time, his mother had the grace to look uncomfortable. “A small ruse, I must confess. Believe it or not, Isabel can be rather prickly about certain things, and I sensed straightaway that she would never agree to meet you if I told her the truth about my little matchmaking scheme.”

  “Why the hell not?” he asked before he realized his angry question revealed more than he liked.

  His mother looked startled by his outburst, and then gave him a very catlike smile that had him silently cursing. “First of all, there were her responsibilities to her family. She would not have dashed off to London and abandoned them. Then there was that Mr. Ruddel. Isabel seemed quite fond of the gentleman last summer,” she said as if the news still did not sit well with her.

  Vane was not fond of the bastard, either.

  “It became apparent that if I desired Isabel’s cooperation, a little subterfuge was necessary. I told her to bring Delia to London, and I would arrange an introduction. Isabel had doubts about the whole thing but I brushed them aside, telling her that spending the season in London would allow her to find the proper business contacts for her father’s papers.”

  “You knew she was selling her father’s work?” It was one thing for his mother to meddle in his life, but she had been playing with Isabel’s as well. “Are you aware how much it hurt her to part with those papers? To watch other men claim her father’s inventions for their own?”

  “What was I supposed to do? I offered to pay all her expenses, but the stubborn girl refused. She said that we were not family yet so it was improper to accept my generous offer. I helped when I could, even going so far as to inform Lord Botly that his granddaughters were in town.”

  The pressure behind Vane’s eyes increased with that bit of news. “You were the one who warned Botly? Do you know what trouble you caused with that bit of mischief?”

  “Christopher, it was not my intention to hurt Isabel and Delia. I thought that once Lord Botly learned his granddaughters were right under his nose, he might see past his pride and anger. Those girls should not have to pay for their mother’s sins. How was I supposed to know that Isabel inherited her obstinacy from her unpleasant grandfather? I feel just awful about everything!”

  “As well as you should,” Vane said sternly. If his mother was looking for a sympathetic ear, she would have to ring for one of his sisters. “I have often found your meddling rather endearing, but this time you have gone too far.”

  “I know,” the marchioness said miserably.

  Vane pushed out of the chair and resumed his pacing. “I cannot fathom why you thought Isabel had the makings of a decent wife. In truth, Delia and I had more in common.”

  Vane thought of the masquerade, when Delia had wrapped herself about him and kissed him. Although the kiss had been mildly pleasant, it paled in comparison with those he’d shared with Isabel against the side of his coach. He had been so crazed to have her that he had taken her back to his town house, where he had
claimed her innocence and spent the rest of the night making wild, passionate love to the reckless woman.

  Later, he thought the sadness he occasionally glimpsed in Isabel’s brown eyes was her unspoken regret for giving her innocence to a man who had no interest in marriage. He had been wrong. It was not regret that had been eating away at Isabel’s happiness, but guilt. She saw him as Delia’s future husband and felt she had betrayed Lady Netherley’s trust. Deceitful, stubborn, and selfless to a fault, Vane silently raged. Not once had Isabel thought to keep him for herself. The insight put him in a nasty mood. He furiously wondered: If he had married Delia, would Isabel have continued to welcome him into her bed? If so, perhaps marrying into the Thorne family would bring its own rewards.

  “Marrying Delia would have been a disastrous choice,” his mother said, blithely unaware of his dark thoughts.

  “How so?” he asked silkily.

  “You are too much alike in temperament. I doubt the bliss of your union would have lasted a fortnight.” His mother dismissed his fictitious marriage to Delia with a wave of her hand. “Isabel, on the other hand…” She left the sentence unfinished and gave him a shrewd look.

  “She has been lying to me since the first day I met her,” he said, trying not to think of her shy smiles or her unfeigned responses when he coaxed her into his bed. It was probably the only time she had ever been honest with him. “And because of you, she still seems to have her heart set on me marrying her annoying sister.”

  His mother’s frown deepened at the bitterness in his voice. “So I was wrong about Isabel, after all.” She bowed her head and sighed. “Forgive me, Christopher, I only wanted you to be happy. I would never have meddled if I did not think Isabel was perfect for you.”

  Vane dropped to his knees and clasped both of the marchioness’s hands. “It was wrong to manipulate me and Isabel, especially when hearts are involved.”

  His mother shuddered as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I know, son. Never again. I have learned my lesson.”

  Vane nodded and inhaled deeply. He slowly exhaled. “You weren’t, however, wrong about Isabel. About her being the perfect woman for me. Before I learned about your damn scheme and Isabel’s part in it, I was working up the courage to ask her to marry me.”