Her Secret Affair (15 page)

Perhaps she wanted to trap a killer.

*   *   *

“Will you be stealing him for yourself, then?” Callie asked.

She appeared behind Isabel in the dressing-table mirror. The glass reflected her china-doll face with the servant’s mobcap perched incongruously atop her saucy blond curls. A shrewd grin revealed her stained teeth.

Isabel paused in the act of pinning her hair. She had been smiling dreamily into the mirror, lost in the fantasy of primping herself while her bridegroom watched from the bed. She deliberately had kept him nameless, faceless, a big shadowy man waiting to love her. But today his features took on a decidedly familiar look … “Stealing who?” Isabel asked cautiously.

“Lord Kern, of course. You’ve been flitting around here this morning, sighing like a lovelorn maiden.”

“I have not,” Isabel protested. Or had she? She picked up a pin and jabbed it into her chignon. “Whyever would I spare a thought for him? He and Helen are to be wed in June.”

“Nevertheless,” Callie said in a singsong voice, “Lady Helen might have the legshackle ready, but it’s you he really wants.”

“Don’t be absurd. He despises me. He’d like nothing more than to toss me out on my ear.”

“He’d like to toss you on your back right there in the bed,” Callie said. “I know, for I saw the two of you together yesterday.”

Isabel’s fingers froze around the silver brush. No one knew of her erotic encounter with Kern at Lynwood House. “Saw us? Where?”

“Lord Kern escorted you and Lady Helen home. I spied you alighting from the carriage.” Hips swaying, Callie strolled to the window and gazed down at the sunlit street, then slid a sly smile at Isabel. “I was watching from right up here. The earl may have been holding her ladyship’s arm, but he was looking at you. Nay, he was
staring,
as if he’d like to rip off your gown and do all manner of wicked things—”

“That is quite enough,” Isabel broke in, as an unwelcome heat seared her body.
He already undressed me. He touched me and caressed me and it was not wicked at all, but wonderful.
“You’re imagining rather a lot into a mere look.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Callie purred. “By the by, have you noticed the size of his hands?”

“No.”
Yes. I remember the warmth of his fingers around my breast.

“Well,
I
certainly noticed. It’s been my observation that the bigger a man’s hands, the bigger his cock.” Callie sauntered closer as if in confidence. “Trust me, his lordship is built like a stallion.”

“I wouldn’t know or care.”
But I remember lying beneath him. I remember how he moved against me …

“Such a sweet little virgin you are. It’s time a man initiated you into the arts of passion. And take my advice, his lordship would make you a fine lover.”

Lover?
Isabel’s insides clenched with dreadful longing. In denial, she turned toward the mirror and snatched up an amber hair ribbon. “I don’t want a lover. So you can stop your silly speculations.”

“My, my. Aren’t we the milk-and-water miss today?” Callie plucked the curling wand from its stand, took a lock of Isabel’s hair, and deftly fashioned a ringlet that draped her shoulder. “I do hope you aren’t really becoming a snooty lady. You’ll soon be thinking yourself too good for your aunties.”

Guilt washed over Isabel. Pivoting on the stool, she gave Callie a hug around her curvy waist, relishing the warmth of her cushiony body. “Forgive me for speaking so sharply. I would never, ever put myself above you or the other ladybirds.” Drawing back, she regarded the older woman. “Have you heard how Aunt Persy is faring today?”

Callie smiled with motherly affection. “She’s still on the mend. Di sent a message. She and Minnie are taking good care of her, so don’t you fret.”

“If only I could be there, too.” That was Isabel’s one regret about the masquerade, having to maintain the fiction of being a gentlewoman who didn’t know of such evils as bawdy houses. How gratifying it would be if she could stop there today when she and Helen went on their round of visits.

But Helen would be appalled. She would regard Isabel with shock and disgust. Their fledgling friendship would come to a swift and bitter end.

That and worse would happen were Helen to learn of the intimate encounter with Kern, Isabel knew. How could she have lost herself so completely in his arms?

Drawing a shuddery breath, she studied her reflection in the mirror. The image of a gentlewoman, she had fine bones and a milky complexion unmarred by freckles. The delicate arch of her eyebrows accentuated her brown eyes. Yet despite her demure amber gown and the fashionably upswept curls, she was no lady. Perhaps, deep down, she was like her mother … a woman of easy virtue, a frivolous romantic who thrived on male attention.

You are who you are, a trollop’s daughter …

Unwilling to let Minnie’s pronouncement darken her spirits, Isabel jumped up from the dressing table. No, she hadn’t forgotten who she was, nor would she ever forget. How could she, when Kern had aroused her passions with remarkable swiftness?

Isabel left the bedroom and headed down the corridor. Upon reaching Helen’s chamber, she paused for a moment to prepare herself. The role of innocent country cousin seemed harder and harder to maintain these days. Coaxing her mouth into a pleasant smile, she knocked on the white-painted door.

Miss Gilbert opened it. The old governess was all a-twitter, fluttering her handkerchief like a flag of surrender. “Oh, my. It’s a dreadful turn of events. Simply dreadful.”

“I beg your pardon?” For one horrible instant, Isabel thought she’d been found out. She feared that her imprudent tryst with Kern had been exposed. Then she saw to her surprise that Helen was still in bed. She was sitting up and sipping a cup of tea, the covers drawn to her chin and her golden hair spread over the pillows.

Isabel hastened to the bed. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

Setting the teacup on the bedside table, Helen managed a wan smile. “Dear Isabel. My throat is sore and my head aches most awfully. I would have sent word, but I kept hoping I’d improve. I’m so sorry, but you shall have to do without me today.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Isabel declared, laying her hand on Helen’s smooth brow. “You’re feverish. Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, it’s merely a case of the sniffles. A few days of rest and I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll read to you, then. Perhaps that will soothe you.”

Helen smiled. “You’re the dearest, kindest cousin. But to be honest, I feel more like taking a few drops of laudanum and sleeping the day away.” She patted Isabel’s hand. “You and Gillie can leave me. Justin will join you. It’s a fine day—perhaps the three of you might take a drive in the park.”

The prospect of a day free of obligation lured Isabel. This was the chance she’d been awaiting, to pursue the investigation. Tamping down a secret thrill, Isabel hastily considered her options. “You mentioned stopping at church to discuss the details of the wedding ceremony with your Uncle Raymond. I’d be happy to go in your stead.”
And question the randy goat about the murder.

“Oh, but I couldn’t ask you to perform such a tedious task,” Helen demurred. “It can wait until I’m well.”

“Planning a wedding is always a thrill. So long as you trust me to see to the particulars.”

“Of course I do,” Helen said with a warm smile. “I would trust you with my life.”

And your fiancé?
Isabel bit back the question—and the incumbent guilt. She had no designs on Kern. In truth, she would rejoice to know she would never see him again. Now, if only she could slip out of the house before he darkened the foyer with his unwelcome presence.

She bade Helen farewell and escaped downstairs with Miss Gilbert. Isabel cautiously glanced into the drawing room, her senses alert for his tall, haughty form. The elegant green room was deserted, praise God, so she made straight for the front door.

“Oughtn’t we wait for Lord Kern?” Miss Gilbert asked, trotting faster to keep up with Isabel.

“Good heavens, no. He won’t care to escort us without Lady Helen.”

An impassive footman opened the door. Isabel swept through the portal—and stopped on the porch as a phaeton drew up behind the Hathaway coach at the curbstone. Lord Kern sprang down from the driver’s seat and tossed the ribbons to a groom.

Her heart did an inglorious leap. So much for luck.

The spring breeze ruffling his dark hair, he strode up the steps. An aura of angry purpose lengthened his strides. “Where is Helen?” he asked, glancing beyond the opened door behind them.

“Oh, my lord, we must be the bearer of bad tidings!” Miss Gilbert piped. “The poor dear has taken ill.”

“Is it serious?”

“A cold,” Isabel said, “but severe enough to confine Helen to her chambers. I might suggest that you go straightaway to the florist and order a posy to cheer her spirits. If you’ll excuse us, Miss Gilbert and I have an errand.”

He stepped into her path when she would have gone past him. Lethal suspicion narrowed his jade green eyes, the same eyes that had blazed with unbidden passion the day before. “What errand is that?”

“I promised Helen I would tend to a few minor details in regard to your wedding. We shall return in an hour or two.” Again she tried to step around him, but this time Miss Gilbert’s high-pitched voice thwarted her.

“Miss Darcy and I must call on the Reverend Lord Raymond Jeffries,” said the governess. “That is, if you think it is perfectly proper for two ladies to visit a gentleman, considering that he is a clergyman.”

Kern’s sharp gaze pierced Isabel. “It is perfectly proper for a gentleman to escort the cousin of his betrothed to church. Miss Gilbert, you shall remain here.”

As the governess sputtered a protest, he took Isabel by the arm, marched her down the steps and toward the phaeton. The pressure of his warm fingers made her skin prickle and her pulse tremble. His male scent hinted at darkness and danger, and she noticed a turbulence seething in him like a storm about to break. No doubt he blamed
her
for their kiss.

She held her chin high. Really, he was the one who should be ashamed of his conduct. He was the one who had acted the aggressor and precipitated their encounter.

And he was the one who had wrecked her plan for today. How was she to interrogate the minister with Kern hovering over her?

“Release me at once,” she hissed. “I’ve no intention of going anywhere with you.”

“Make a scene, then. If you dare.”

Before she could retort, his hands encircled her waist. His big, strong hands. The hands that signified his prodigious proportions elsewhere.

Hot and flustered, Isabel lost her chance to object as he lifted her up into the open carriage, then vaulted beside her onto the seat. She scooted to the edge of the narrow cushion, but her amber skirt still brushed his tasseled Hessians. With a piercing glance at her, he took hold of the ribbons and guided the fine bay horse into the traffic around the square.

“So,” he said in a clipped tone. “Tell me what business you have with Lord Raymond.”

“Helen asked me to go over the wedding ceremony with him.”

“The real reason,” he said impatiently. “I’m privy to your tricks. I suspect that you intend to pester him as you did my father—”

“And you,” she broke in. “Don’t forget that I flaunted myself before
you,
too.” If Kern wanted to believe her depraved, then she may as well parade her depravity.

His gaze fell to her lips, and she shivered from more than the cool breeze. Then he jerked his attention back to the busy street. “That regrettable incident has nothing to do with what I want to know now.”

His ill opinion of her hurt, and the pain made her angry. “Oh, yes it does. That
regrettable incident
demonstrates the sort of woman I am. I lure men into my clutches. I tempt them into sin. I cast a spell on them and then milk them for their money.”

He cocked a black eyebrow. “You certainly have a bee in your bonnet today. I must have spoiled your plans for the afternoon.”

“Indeed you did. I meant to have a tryst with the Reverend Lord Raymond.” Determined to rattle Kern’s self-control, she flashed him her most sensual smile. “Though if you’re interested, m’lord, perhaps we could make it a threesome.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing a muscle tighten in his jaw. “Don’t trifle with me, Isabel. I know what mischief you’re planning.”

“Of course—’tis blackmail. I seduce gentlemen and then extort wealth from them. It’s an easy way to make a living.”

“You told me yesterday that you hadn’t come to Lynwood House to blackmail my father.”

“I did?” Caught off guard, she managed an airy laugh. “Well, I must have been lying. You know you can’t trust a word I say.”

“I wonder.” While they were stopped behind a delivery dray, he gave Isabel a long, measuring stare. It made her uneasy, as if he could see through all the falsehoods to the truth of her quest. “I had a rather enlightening visit with my father this morning. He made a startling statement.”

“What might that be? Did he tell you how I climbed into bed with him? How he refused to pay the price I demanded, and so I drew my dagger in an attempt to make him yield?”

The earl cast another grim, knowing look at her, and she felt the jittery urge to squirm. “He said you accused him of murdering Aurora Darling.”

Chapter 9

Kern watched the color wash out of Isabel’s cheeks. Her sherry-brown eyes rounded with unguarded shock. A chill ran through him. By damn, she really
did
believe Aurora Darling was the victim of foul play.

And she thought his father had done the deed.

Blinking her long lashes, Isabel slid her gaze toward the crowded pavement, where servants and tradesmen hurried about their business. “Murder? I can’t imagine how the duke formed such a notion,” she said in a too-innocent voice. “He must be madder than I’d thought.”

“He was parroting your words.”

“How do you know? You weren’t there.”

Her pert denials fed his frustration. She deserved to be punished for harassing a sick old man. He seized her chin and forced her to look at him. “Don’t try to cozen me, Miss Darling. If you continue to persecute my father on false grounds, I shall see you thrown out of society and tossed back into the brothel where you belong.”