Page 73 of When the Rogue Returns
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TWO DAYS LATER,around noon, Isa placed the last few items she’d need into her trunk for the house party. She couldn’t get her mind off of Victor. She hadn’t seen him since he’d gone off to investigate, and she felt the loss of him like the loss of a limb.
He’d said he wanted them to be a family again, and the sparkling hope of that had kept her going despite all their problems. Whenever she thought of him making love to her so sweetly, so fiercely, the problems became as nothing.
But if she didn’t see him soon, she would go mad! Any minute now, Mr. Gordon was supposed to come by with Mary Grace to drive them out to Kinlaw Castle. She’d feel better if she knew that Victor was all right, first.
Betsy appeared in the doorway. “His lordship is here.”
Isa blinked. “Rupert? Why?”
“I don’t know. But he looks none too happy about something. Do you think he’s heard that Mr. Cale is your husband?”
“It depends on whether Victor has spoken to Lady Lochlaw yet.”
Betsy sniffed. “Well, I must say, Mr. Cale has been mighty absent these past two days for a man just returned to his wife after ten years.”
“Heistrying very hard to unearth my relations.” She had told Betsy everything, confident that her servant would not betray her. What she hadn’t expected was that Betsy might become suspicious of Victor.
Then again, the woman considered Isa and Amalie family; she would protect them to the death. She agreed that Victor was handsome and brave—and the profusion of dahlias had swayed her a bit—but she hadn’t liked that he’d been so ready to distrust Isa ten years ago. Betsy was nothing if not loyal.
“If you’ll finish up this packing for me,” Isa said, “I’ll see why Rupert is here.”
She got her answer as soon as she walked into the parlor, where Rupert was compulsively straightening her paintings on the walls. That was always a sign he was agitated.
“Good morning, Rupert. I thought you would be well on your way to Kinlaw Castle with your mother by now.”
He faced her with a grim set to his mouth. “I’m not going.”
“What? You can’t do that! It’syourhouse party. You have to go.”
“No, I don’t,” he said sullenly. “I’m the baron. I can do as I please. People already think me half-mad anyway, so who cares if I choose not to go?”
“I care,” she said.
“That’s not true,” he said in a voice of deep betrayal. “You lied to me. You told me you were a widow, and you’re not.”
She sighed. “I take it that Mr. Cale has spoken to your mother.”
“Yes. Just this morning.” He scowled. “And she delighted in telling me all about how you and Mr. Cale have been married for ten years. Ten years! Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lord help her. She’d been dreading this ever since their last encounter. “Because I couldn’t. Back when I believed the awful lies my family told me about my husband, I was afraid that he might find me, so I became Sofie Franke. When hedidfind me, I learned that we had both been laboring under an enormous misapprehension. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you ever since.”
Her explanation didn’t seem to dampen his anger one bit. “I trusted you! I believed you to be a widow. I wanted tomarryyou.”
She swallowed. This was so hard. “I’m sorry about that. I never realized that you saw me as a possible wife until this whole mess with Victor—Mr. Cale—happened.”
“That’s because you never sawmeas a possible husband,” he said petulantly. “It’s because I don’t understand women, isn’t it? Because I’m not a man about town, and I buy walking shoes instead of flowers and—”
“No, Rupert, of course not.” Stepping forward, she put her hand on his arm, relieved that he didn’t pull away. “I’m older than you, and far beneath you in station. I never dreamed that you would consider me a suitable wife. I assumed that we were friends. Good friends, but no more.”
He wouldn’t look at her, but his frown softened a fraction. “Wearegood friends, aren’t we?”
“We willalwaysbe good friends. You are the kindest, sweetest man I know.”
“More even than Mr. Cale?”
She suppressed a laugh. Victor was many things—forceful, ardent, seductive—but “sweet” wasn’t one of them.
