Her Secret Affair (34 page)

His act of dishonor sounded all the more horrifying when uttered by a faultless girl. A grayish cast came over Hathaway’s noble features. His disbelieving stare bored into Kern. “You seduced her?”

With a sense of fatality, Kern admitted, “Yes.”

“No,”
Isabel said in a low, urgent tone. “That isn’t true. He didn’t force me. God forgive me, but I-I love him.”

Kern only half heard her declaration. No matter what she said, the blame lay solely with him. He had permitted his loins to rule his head. In one reckless act of debauchery, he had taken the virtue of one woman and destroyed the dreams of another.

Disillusionment and disgust twisted Hathaway’s granite features. Kern braced himself for a tirade of rebukes. But he wasn’t prepared for the blaze of fury.

“Lecher.” In a flash of movement, Hathaway sprang across the foyer. His fist met Kern’s jaw with a
crack.

Kern staggered backward under the numbing impact. His vision darkened for an instant, and he stumbled over a chair, collapsing into a sprawled heap on the floor of the drawing room. The puppy yapped excitedly.

His posture menacing, Hathaway loomed over him. Kern lay unmoving, aware of the pain. By instinct, his fingers balled into fists, but he could not strike back. He could not trade blows with the man whom he regarded as a father. Especially when his punishment was richly deserved.

Isabel thrust herself in front of Hathaway. “No! Don’t touch him again.”

Hathaway glowered fiercely. His look could have curdled milk, but Isabel faced him without flinching. After a moment, he turned on his heel and strode away.

She sank to her knees. “Justin! Are you all right?”

By way of reply, he picked himself up from the rug and rose to his feet.

In the doorway to the foyer, Helen stood with her hands to her mouth, her blue eyes wide and tragic. Beside her, Hathaway regarded him with undisguised loathing. “Get out,” he snapped.

It was the second time Kern had been told to leave, and this time, he would comply. He should have done so when Helen had sent him away, and not stopped to kiss Isabel one last time. Yet perhaps the disclosure of his sins was for the best. Now, at least, he and Isabel would be spared the burden of living a lie.

That thought was cold comfort.

Isabel knelt in a puddle of wine-colored skirts. As if sensing her unhappiness, the puppy nudged at her hands, and she picked him up, cuddling his small form against her. She gazed up at Kern with such loving concern, he was tempted to sweep her away in his carriage, to carry her on a wild dash northward to Gretna Green, where he could bind her to him forever with the ties of matrimony.

Madness.

He could never marry Isabel. Nor could he leave her here to suffer the censure of Hathaway. She had endured enough already.

Kern extended his hand and helped her to her feet. As he led her past Helen, he met Hathaway’s icy gaze. The words of apology that sprang to his tongue seemed a cliché. Yet he had to say them. “I’m deeply sorry for the distress I’ve caused you and Helen.”
But not for loving Isabel. Never for that.

Hathaway said nothing. His arm supporting Helen, he narrowed his eyes at Isabel. The brooding intensity of that stare shook Kern. He had the distinct impression of dark, roiling emotions in Hathaway. A thought struck Kern harder than a fist. How well did he really know Hathaway?

Had the marquess vandalized Aurora’s chambers in an attempt to find the memoirs? Was he so desperate to protect Lord Raymond from a charge of murder?

All the more reason to take Isabel away from here. His jaw aching, Kern gripped her arm and guided her toward the front door. But she broke free and ran back to Helen, carefully placing the wriggling puppy in Helen’s arms. “Please,” she said in a broken murmur, “will you keep M’lord safe? He’s all I have left to give you.”

Helen scowled at Isabel; then the animosity left her eyes and she looked sadly down at the dog she cradled against her bosom. Ever so slowly, she pressed her cheek to his head. “Of course I’ll watch over him.”

Isabel reached out as if to give the puppy one last pat. But she curled her fingers at her side and spun around toward Kern. Holding her chin high, she walked toward him, unshed tears glazing her brown eyes.

To console the girl she regarded as a friend, Isabel had given away her most prized possession. Kern felt stunned by her selfless act, and the sudden fierceness of emotion in him rivaled the storm outside. He’d been prudent and responsible all his life. But ever since that fateful day when he had stolen into the brothel to confront a blackmailer, Isabel had turned his life upside down.

And with the desperation of the damned, Kern knew he could deny the truth no longer. For better or for worse, he loved Venus Isabel Darling.

Chapter 18

Isabel gazed out the window of the carriage. The rain wept down the glass, obscuring the city streets and mimicking the sorrow inside her. She pressed her cheek to the damp smoothness of Kern’s coat and felt the strong beating of his heart. Without making any sexual overtures, he held her close as the vehicle rumbled over the wet cobblestones, carrying her away from her life as a lady.

She needed his warmth and his comfort. With only the clothes on her back, she had left Hathaway House forever. She had forfeited the glittering world of the
ton,
the world she had dreamed about since girlhood. What was infinitely worse, no more would she laugh with Helen or listen to her blithe chatter. No more would they walk arm in arm to the shops on Regent Street. No more would they sit in bed to giggle and gossip after a fancy ball. By indulging her love for Kern, she had caused immeasurable pain to the girl she had come to think of as a friend, the sister she’d always wanted.

As punishment, she would never see Helen again.

The image of Helen’s unhappy face haunted Isabel. It had been wrenching to give away M’lord, yet she would have offered her soul as atonement if it were possible. How could she ever forgive herself for being the cause of such grief?

Yet how could she have denied her powerful feelings for Kern? It would be easier to dam the tides.

The pattering of the rain made a lonely sound. She wondered what Kern was thinking as he gazed moodily out into the storm. Did he suffer regrets over losing Helen?

He had lost so much. He had cut himself off from the respected life he so valued. Lord Hathaway had acted as a father to Kern when Lynwood had failed to do so. The two families had maintained close ties. Now Kern had made himself a pariah.

For her sake.

Somehow she would make it up to him. She would love him forever. All was not lost. They had each other, and their bond transcended physical lust. Kern felt affection for her too, else he would not sit with her like this, holding her close to his large, sheltering body as if she were the most precious woman in the world to him.

The thought lifted her flagging spirits. After a time, when he had overcome the catastrophic events of this day, he would realize how much they meant to each other. He was not a rake who kept a string of mistresses. Surely he would want her for his wife.

He turned to her suddenly and asked, “What is your birth date?”

The question caught her off guard. “June the twelfth.”

“You’ll be nineteen?”

“Yes. Why do you wish to know?”

He stared at her for so long, she thought he had not heard. “It’s nothing,” he said finally. “I merely wondered.”

He was concerned about her age. Likely he blamed himself for ruining her young life. Instead, he had brought her a joy she had not dreamed possible. Her hand sought his broad shoulder, and she pressed a kiss to the redness on his jaw where Hathaway had struck him. “Oh, Justin,” she murmured. “I do love you.”

His arm tightened around her; then he released her, setting her away from him. “No,” he said in a grating voice. “You can’t love a man who is like Lynwood.”

Horrified by the comparison, she sat up straight and faced him. “You are
not
like your father. How
can
you be, when you’ve taken only one woman to bed in more than a decade?”

“Honor isn’t measured in numbers. I either have principles, or I don’t.”

“Balderdash. You did an act of supreme honor today, an act of good conscience. You could have remained silent—as other so-called gentlemen would have done. But you were honest, and that I can only admire.”

“In the eyes of the
ton,
I behaved like a cad.”

“A pox on what other people think. You are the most decent and proper gentleman in society—quite possibly all of England. And let anyone dare say otherwise, and I shall set them straight posthaste.”

A gleam entered his green eyes. “Now that I should like to see.”

Isabel was far from done. “And furthermore,
I
shall not heed those small-minded people who judge our behavior. We cannot demean the beauty of what happened between us by calling it dishonorable or disgraceful.”

“Does that mean you still want me?”

Her pulse fluttered at the husky thread of yearning in his voice. Did he think she would refuse him? She burrowed into his arms until the masculine scent and warmth of him surrounded her. “Of course I want you, Justin. I’ll always want you.”

For a heartbeat, he did not move. Then he embraced her tightly and pressed his lips to her hair. “I warn you, my honor is tarnished. Perhaps forever.”

“So is mine. So you see, we’re a perfect match.”

Their lips met with mutual need and tender promise. He kissed her slowly, searchingly, with passion and something greater, something steadfast and loving. She relaxed against him, her arms sliding around his lean waist as the feelings inside her blossomed into the ripeness of desire. His hand cupped her breast, pampering the sensitive peak until she felt lush and full, yet empty and aching. She wanted to belong to Kern, to pledge her life to him. She wanted to call him husband …

A sudden jouncing broke them apart as the carriage rolled to a stop. Glancing out the wet window, Isabel saw the pale stone of the town house where her aunts lived. She’d come back here to stay. “Don’t leave me, Justin,” she whispered against his firm mouth. “Not yet.”

“As you wish.” He briefly held her close, then let go an instant before the footman opened the door.

She stepped down from the carriage and into the blustery, windblown day. The tree branches swayed, the dark green leaves fluttering against the gray clouds. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but a maze of huge puddles inundated the pavement, and she stood there shivering as she searched for a pathway to the front steps. She was lifting her hem in preparation to leap across a pool of water when Kern swept her into his arms and carried her up to the porch.

Flooded by warm excitement, she clung to his neck. He cradled her close to him on a public street. Surely that was an unmistakable declaration of his regard for her. A glorious sense of freedom washed through Isabel as she realized she no longer had to hide her love for him. She could be unreserved in her affections. And she wanted to demonstrate how much she loved him. Again and again.

The front door opened and Aunt Minnie stepped aside to allow them entry. “Mother of God, whatever is going on here?” she asked as Kern set Isabel down. “I thought you’d moved back to Lord Hathaway’s house.”

Isabel sobered. “Everything has changed. I-I couldn’t remain there.”

Cradling her injured arm against her purple gown, Minnie looked keenly from Isabel to Kern and back again. “Well, now. This is the best news I’ve had all morning. Welcome home, my girl.”

She enfolded Isabel in a one-armed hug to her cushiony bosom. The embrace brought back fond memories of visits here when Minnie had smothered her with attention, advising her on how to defend herself against bullies or answering a hundred questions on life in the city. “How are you feeling, Auntie? Is your arm bothering you?”

“’Tis only a nuisance, nothing more.” Minnie glanced out the still-opened door. “Where is that laggard maid of yours?”

“Aunt Callie!” Isabel’s hand flew to her mouth. “Dear heaven, I forgot all about her.”

Kern’s palm settled warmly over her shoulder. “Callandra has surely heard of your departure by now,” he said. “And no doubt she’ll set out on her own when the rain stops. But if it would make you feel better, I’ll send my coachman after her.”

“Yes, thank you.”

He went outside, and heedless of the cold rain, Isabel stood in the doorway watching him. He cut a fine figure in his dark-green morning coat and buckskin breeches, and she felt another tingle of pleasure to know that he had chosen her above all others.

“Such a considerate man he is,” Minnie said from close beside her. “To send his carriage away at your whim. He must be intending to tarry awhile with you.”

Anxiety wrenched Isabel. “Is it wrong of me?”

Minnie’s lined face softened. “No, it is not wrong to want pleasure, my dear. You’re a grown woman now, like your aunties.” She narrowed her eyes at Kern as the carriage pulled away and he strode back toward the porch. In a low voice, she added, “His lordship appears quite smitten. He should be generous with you.”

The cold prickling of gooseflesh swept over Isabel. She meant to protest that she didn’t want riches, she craved only the treasure of his love. But he leaped up the steps and came within earshot, and she could do no more than smile at him.

“I wonder if your coachman will even find Callandra there,” Minnie said, as she shut the door behind him. “You should know that a man came here this morning, looking for her.”

“A man?” Kern asked, frowning. “Who?”

“Sir John Trimble was his name. He was one of those who courted Aurora, though I never understood how she could abide so hideous a face as his.”

The news jolted Isabel. “Why was he looking for Aunt Callie?”

Minnie shrugged. “He said he wished to ask her a few questions. That was all he would admit to me. I sent him off to Hathaway’s not half an hour ago.”

Isabel shared a stunned look with Kern. The grim curiosity in his eyes reflected her own puzzlement. Sir John was supposed to be questioning the men who had romanced her mother. Why had he come here? Surely he didn’t think Aunt Callie knew more than she admitted about the murder.