Promise Me Tonight (31 page)

“Shall I show you to your chamber, my lord?”

“I should be lost without you,” James responded dryly.

Dimpsey left him at the door to his room, but instead of going in, James waited until the butler was out of sight, then crossed the hall to peer inside Isabella’s bedchamber, needing to see her again. She had fallen asleep atop the bed, fully dressed except for her shoes. He unfolded the quilt by her feet and gently covered her. Then he shrugged off his coat, yanked off his boots, and took a seat near the bed, content simply to watch over her as she slept.

She looked like one of Botticelli’s angels. The drapes had been only partially drawn, and soft light filtered into the room, casting a golden glow around her. Her face was peaceful in slumber, making her appear so young and vulnerable, it seemed unbelievable that she had borne a child—his child.

She was far from innocent—it hadn’t been an immaculate conception, after all, but a planned seduction—but it was so damned difficult to remember that when she looked like this. He knew he shouldn’t be there, wasting time looking at her. He needed to come up with a plan before she woke up, to think of some way to convince her that he was back for good. It wasn’t going to be easy. She was an angel who had tangled with an all-too-mortal man, a man with none of her light and goodness, and her wings had been broken. Now he had to figure out how to mend them, how to heal her heart and give her the strength to believe in him again.

God, how could he have been such a fool to throw away her trust without a backward glance? He stopped himself from going down that path. The road of regrets and recriminations ran to eternity and beyond. He needed to look forward, to act before it was too late. He had hammered the wedge between them into place; it was up to him to pry it out and close the gap he had so thoughtlessly created out of fear and frustration.

He really ought to leave and formulate his plan of action, but to a man who had been wandering lost in the desert, she was the cool, sweet water of deliverance, and he couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of her. His breath caught as she turned over onto her side, nestling her cheek into the pillow, her hand reaching out to search beside her.

“James,” she murmured drowsily.

He froze, then rose to his feet and turned toward the door. He wasn’t ready to face her; he hadn’t come to terms with everything yet. He forced himself to turn around, opening his mouth to respond to her, and then abruptly shut it when it became apparent she was still very much asleep.

“James,” she sighed again, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow.

She dreamed about him? The very thought of it instantly had him harder than the wooden bedposts. Then again, her dreams about him probably had very little in common with his dreams about her. They were both usually naked in his dreams. With a sigh of his own, he sank back down into the chair and buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to force his mind away from thoughts of Isabella naked.

Of course, she needn’t be naked. There was something naughtily arousing about making love to a woman with all her clothes on, something extremely erotic about having to burrow beneath all those skirts to reach the hot, secret heart of her.

He stifled a groan, half ready to explode, lust clawing at him, gripping him with sharp talons. The fact that Isabella was lying in bed only steps away wasn’t helping things. He took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then counted to ten again, trying to get himself under control. He wondered whether there was an icy Scottish loch nearby. Dimpsey would know. That man seemed to know everything.

Stiffening his spine, and ignoring other uncomfortably stiff parts of his body, he raised his head and pushed himself up out of the chair. Much as he would have liked to sit and watch Isabella all day, James forced himself to leave the room and make his way downstairs.

He wanted to be sure he’d have every day of the rest of his life to look at her, and the germ of a plan was forming in his mind. He was going to woo his wife. And three meddlesome women and a hulking giant of a butler were going to help him.

Chapter 19

I understand from Mama that you are quite impatient for us to travel to Weston Manor, though I am not sure which excites you more—the arrival of your new granddaughter or the return of your wife—though I have my suspicions. You will be happy to know that even though our motley crew will be traveling slowly, in deference to the baby and the weather, we shall certainly be back well before Christmas.

From the correspondence of Isabella, Lady Dunston,

age twenty

Letter to her father, Oliver, Viscount Weston, regarding

travel plans and the painful absence of loved ones . . .

and the activities one can engage in with them—November

1798

T
he knowledge that James was just across the hall kept Isabella tossing and turning all night, and once the sun started trickling through the curtains, she gave up trying to sleep. Deciding to let her maid stay abed a bit longer, she donned a heavy flannel wrapper and went upstairs to check on Bride.

“I was just aboot to bring her to ye, milady,” the nursemaid said, jouncing the crying baby in her arms. “She’s up early this morning, and fair hungry by the sound o’ it.”

Izzie settled down with her daughter and, calmed by the sweetness of her baby at her breast, she let herself relax. Her eyelids started to feel unbearably heavy, and it soon became harder to keep them open than it was to let them close. She was still distantly aware of the baby’s suckling and the rhythmic creak of the rocking chair, but after a while she let go of those moorings as well and drifted off into oblivion.

She awoke sometime later to find Bride asleep in her arms, and her heart swelled at the sight of the tiny fists clutching the fine linen of Isabella’s night rail like a lifeline. She dropped a kiss on her daughter’s downy head and settled her back in her cradle.

Much restored by her brief repose and feeling ready to confront the day, Izzie headed back to her room to get dressed. When she entered her chamber, though, she found that her maid was several steps ahead of her: The entire contents of her wardrobe were strewn atop the bed.

“Becky?” she called out.

“Coming, milady,” came the huffed reply as her maid emerged from the dressing room, dragging one of Isabella’s trunks behind her.

“Whatever are you doing?”

Her maid frowned. “His lordship came looking for you, and I told him you were probably with Lady Bride. He said he’d find you, and that I was to start packing all your clothes and such and then see to the little one’s things. Did he not speak with you, milady?”

Isabella drew a deep breath and slowly released it. “No, Becky, he did not, but I intend to remedy that directly. In the meantime, you may leave off packing. As far as I am concerned,
he
is the only person leaving here in the near future.”

She strode across the hall and rapped on the door. No response. She knocked again, louder this time. Nothing.

“The earl is taking breakfast, my lady.”

Isabella whirled around, heart pounding, to find her aunt’s giant butler not three feet away. “Heavens, Dimpsey, you startled me!”

“I beg your pardon, my lady. It certainly wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no, of course not, but how a man your size can creep about so quietly is a mystery. There’s an interesting explanation, no doubt, but at the moment I’ve another, more pressing explanation to demand. He’s eating breakfast, you said? Well, I hope he is prepared for some serious indigestion!”

Isabella barged through the castle and stormed into the dining room like an Amazon ready to do battle. James sat alone at the head of the table, reading a newspaper. He glanced up briefly at her entrance and then, as if he hadn’t noted anything—or
anyone
—of interest, went right back to his paper. If she’d thought she had the slightest chance of succeeding, Izzie would have seated herself next to him and eaten her breakfast while ignoring him as splendidly as he was ignoring her. Since she lacked that sort of reserve, however, Isabella marched over to her husband, tore the paper out of his hands, and threw it aside.

James just sat back in his chair and gave her a lazy smile that made Izzie’s heart skip a beat. Longing filled her in a heady rush and her own lips started to turn up and—no! She was angry with him, she reminded herself.

“Good morning, wife. I say, you’re looking a bit peckish. Has something happened?”

His eyes twinkled with merriment, and Izzie had to fight the urge to throw something at him. She eyed the stack of plates on the sideboard longingly. No, it wouldn’t do to break her aunt’s china. Well, maybe just a saucer . . .

“Izzie? Has something happened?” James repeated.

As if he didn’t know.

“Not something,” she ground out. “Someone. You. You ordered my maid to pack up all my things.”

“Is that what has you so overset? I apologize, my dear. I shall tell her to stop at once.”

“You will?”

“Of course.”

Izzie eyed him suspiciously, mistrusting his easy capitulation. He didn’t disappoint her. After a moment’s pause he continued. “But were I you, I should instruct her to resume the task directly, as I mean for us to leave once the second carriage arrives from Edinburgh. I sent my man to hire it yesterday afternoon, so I expect it shall be here tomorrow or the next day.”

“I have no intention of accompanying you anywhere.”

“There are matters I need to attend to at Sheffield Park.”

“Go on, then. Bride and I have managed fine without you thus far.”

He winced. “Please, don’t make this difficult, Izzie. You and Bride are coming home with me, and there’s an end to it.”

“No.”

“I don’t recall giving you a choice.”

“Bride and I are staying here.”

“Oh dear.” Her aunt swept into the room. “I am afraid that won’t be possible.”

Izzie frowned. “What won’t be possible?”

“Staying here. You see, Charlotte and I always spend the holidays with my stepson, and since he insists on residing in the most remote part of Wales, I need to pack up the household and be on the road within a fortnight.”

“Bride and I will travel home with my mother and Livvy, then.”

“Didn’t I tell you, darling?” Her mother entered the parlor, Olivia right behind her.

“Tell me what?”

“Well, as you know, I have been here far longer than I originally intended, and I am most anxious to get back home. You won’t be able to travel quickly with an infant, so James has offered to take your sister and me to Edinburgh and see to hiring a post chaise for us.”

“Actually, I’m not all that anxious to get home,” Olivia spoke up.

Bless her, Izzie thought. A sister could always be counted on to—

“If it is all right with Aunt Kate, I should like to travel with her to Wales. I’ve always wanted to see the area, and I can help take care of Charlotte.”

“Olivia Jane Weston, where are your manners? You cannot just invite yourself along on other people’s journeys! Certainly not to someone else’s house! Charlotte has nursemaids to look after her, and if this is your notion of how a young lady of good breeding acts, she’s better off without your poor example. Furthermore, such behavior is not at all proper.”

There it was, Isabella thought, her mother’s favorite word.

Proper.

She shuddered. She really, really loathed that word. “But then my children”—she looked pointedly at Isabella—“seem to delight in this sort of reckless impropriety.”

In
all
its forms. She shuddered again for good measure.

“But I haven’t finished with the library yet,” Livvy countered. “I didn’t mean to be rude, Aunt Kate, truly I didn’t, but I would so like to see Wales. Once I have my Season, I may never have the chance, so I must go before it’s too late.”

Aunt Kate moved forward and drew Olivia into her arms. “Darling, I had no idea you wanted to accompany us. Of course you must have a last adventure before you settle down, and I shall be very glad to have someone to help entertain Charlotte on the journey!”

“Fine.” Lady Weston rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and reward her bad behavior. You’ll regret it when Charlotte is old enough to follow her example.” With that dire prediction, she swept out of the room, Olivia and Lady Sheldon following cautiously in her wake.

Izzie turned to face James. “I suppose I have no choice but to go with you. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“I would be happier if you were not so put out by the arrangements. Come now, it won’t be so terrible, will it? We’ve never lacked for things to talk about, you and I. You might even find yourself enjoying my company.”

“Unlikely.”

“Careful, sweetheart. I might take that as a challenge.”

“Do you live to vex me?”

“Certainly not. Men don’t like to upset their wives.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “It tends to give them headaches.”

It took a moment for her to comprehend his meaning. “If you think that I—that you—,” she sputtered.