Page 91 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Moreton is not a foe to be so easily dismissed,” she said.
“So, you say.”
“Adrian—”
“I won’t hear any more on the subject. It’s time to retire for the night.” He picked up her nightgown from the bed and offered it to her. “Goodnight, Isobel.”
“I’m no longer to share yer bed?”
“I would like to sleep alone tonight.”
More hurt. She hadn’t thought it possible—after all, he was sending her away aftereverything—but it transpired he could still break her heart further.
She sucked in a deep breath.
“Fine,” she said and gripped her nightgown tightly. “If that’s what ye want. I’m sure I’ll be out of yer hair soon enough.”
Something flickered across his expression, but he merely nodded. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“Goodnight, Adrian.”
Not trusting herself to say anything else, she opened the adjoining door to her own cold bedchamber, the air stale from her absence from it, and slammed it.
Then she sank against the wood, pressed the soft cotton against her face, and wept.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Ihardly see why you felt the need to visit me first thing,” Adrian scowled at his old friend as he closed his study door. “I have things to be doing.”
“I heard the duchess is leaving London.”
Adrian sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Two days after his pronouncement that she would leave, and he had almost everything in place. The journey, the servants accompanying her—he had even put about a story that she was retiring to Brighton for the summer, in case Moreton should go sniffing around.
“She is,” he admitted.
“Not to the beach, I take it.”
“I would hardly risk her life like that.” He sighed as he collapsed in one of the armchairs the by the fire and unstopped the brandy bottle. “Drink? I know I need one.”
“I saw Moreton dancing with her the other day at the ball,” Joseph said as he accepted the glass and leaned against the mantelpiece. “I assume that’s why.”
“He threatened her with ending my life,” Adrian said, his voice clipped. “And of course her life is in danger so long as he knows where she is. I thought I could protect her here, but I can’t.”
“I don’t see how you can protect her better if you’re separate from her.”
“The fact is, he can’t touch her if he doesn’t know where she is. If he thinks she’s here, or better still, in Brighton, then he won’t be looking for her elsewhere. And it’ll be one less thing for me to think about.”
He pinched his nose, trying to suppress the ball of worry that had taken residence in his chest. Whenever he thought about the danger Isobel could be in, it made him want to tear at his heart and toss it into the fire—anything to make this discomfort go away.
He’d never had to endure this level ofinvestmentin another person before, except perhaps his mother, and he’d never been responsible for her in precisely the same way. There was a difference between fulfilling one’s duties to one’s estate and being fully responsible for another person’s welfare.
Especially when the person in question was in so very muchdanger.
Joseph watched him with hooded eyes. “And this is for her benefit?”
“I can’t have her here. You’ve met her—she’s too impulsive by half. She’s going to put herself in danger, and who will be the one pulling her free? It’ll be me. I won’t be able to focus on bringing Moreton down if I have her hanging on my coattails.”
