Page 186 of The Good Duke
But then, with Silas’s late sire having been so very vengeful and ruthless, what other way would he become? The fact he loved at all—even if it was a perverted version of love—was a miracle.
Persephone cast a worried glance at the path she’d just traveled, which led back to where Simon and Silas in discussion.
She furrowed her brow.
Only, there could be no relaxed discourse. They’d both been spoiling for a fight, and in leaving, she’d condoned it.
She had to go back.
Persephone took one hurried step when someone called out from behind her.
“Miss Forsyth.” Lady Isabelle’s tremulous whisper froze Persephone in her tracks.
During their discussion at dinner, Persephone’s former charge had been so earnest, so innocent, and yet all signs pointed to Lady Isabelle’s duplicity.
“I understand you probably don’t wish to speak with me,” Lady Isabelle said softly. “Why should you? You, no doubt, believe I aided my brother in deceiving you.” The girl paused. “Which I did.”
Persephone’s entire body tensed.
Except something reached through the immediacy of Persephone’s anger and outrage—a new and foreign bitterness in Lady Isabelle’s tone.
Or perhaps it is just more treachery from a family given to lying?
As soon as the thought slipped into Persephone’s mind, she recognized the unfairness in that judgment and prejudice.
She turned. Lady Isabelle stood some three or four yards away. Persephone searched her gaze over the young lady’s face.
Under that scrutiny, Lady Isabelle lifted her chin a notch. That slight, proud movement, however, brought her more fully into the light cast by the sconce and revealed a glimmer of tears within the girl’s eyes. Her exquisite features were drawn in a mask of sorrow and regret.
Persephone took a step towards her and stopped. “You did betray me, then, my lady?”
The girl’s hands formed painfully tight-looking fists at her sides.
“Albeit unknowingly.” Lady Isabelle murmured so faintly, her admission barely reached Persephone. “I was an unwitting partner, but the outcome remains the same—you were ruined because of my actions. As such, I deserve nothing less than your loathing and certainly not your forgiveness.”
Persephone continued to study her.
A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek. “Silas shared with me the story of how you were once sweethearts, and how my father parted you.” An acrimonious smile formed on Lady Isabelle’s lips. “He revealed to me how deeply he loved you and asked that I arrange a meeting between you.”
A cynical laugh bubbled past the young lady’s lips. “How could I not? He claimed you were star-crossed lovers who were destined to be together.” Her gaze turned frosty. “And here you now find yourself,” she spat with a wretchedness that could not be feigned by even the best London stage actress, “ruined and forced into a union with a man you do not want.”
Lady Isabelle’s angry visage crumpled. “He betrayed us both, Miss Forsyth. He used me to get what he wanted—you. He didn’t care about your happiness and turned me into a deceiver, just like him. H-He is a liar and I hate him, and I will n-never forgive him.” Sorrow bled from her eyes. “But what is worse, Miss Forsyth,” she whispered, “I will never forgivemyself.” She thumped a fist against her breast for emphasis.
And then, with a ragged sob, Lady Isabelle’s entire body sagged, and she collapsed to her knees weeping.
Persephone was at her side in an instant.
Falling to the ground beside Silas’s sister, Persephone took the younger woman in her arms.
She buried her face in Persephone’s chest. “I-I hate him,” she wailed. “I b-believed he was g-good and d-different than our sire, but he is j-just the same, and I am left w-with no one but a m-monster.”
“Shh,” Persephone whispered, stroking a hand over the back of Lady Isabelle’s loose coiffure.
“And I-I am s-selfish as he is.” The young woman cried all the harder. Her body shook like a frail limb amidst a tempest. “Because you are h-hurting and wronged, and I’m m-mourning for myself and what I don’t h-have and n-never had in family and will n-never know. Love is a lie.”
With that, Lady Isabelle broke down; all words failed her. Through it, Persephone held the young woman until she had no more tears left to shed.
“It is not your fault,” Persephone murmured.
