Page 27 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“Oh, it’s no use. I’m just bored. I want to go outside. It’s been so hot. I feel stifled. Augusta’s very kind, but I can’t expect her to entertain me every moment of the day, and the viscount…well, he’s got his own work to see to. I know they’re only trying to protect me, but…well, I might as well have been kidnapped for all the freedom I’m allowed,” she replied.
The thought was not a pleasant one, but it had occurred to Isabella after the visit of the baron. She was—for all intents and purposes—a prisoner, albeit in a gilded cage. For her own safety, she was not allowed out of the house, not even into the garden. Her world consisted of a triumvirate of her bedroom, the dining room, and the drawing room, between which she flitted over the course of the day, along with the occasional visit to the library.
The possibility of going elsewhere, of stepping outside, was denied her, and there was certainly no question of her being allowed to leave Howdwell Heights all together. Whenever the subject was broached, it was met with the response of the possibility of danger and a vague intimation of a future freedom without specifics.
“Oh, my lady, don’t think like that. You’ve got me here, haven’t you, and Caesar?” Anne said, shaking her head and tutting.
Isabella smiled. Shewasgrateful for that small mercy, at least, and she smiled at Anne, who had pulled back the covers for her to get into bed. It was late evening, and having dined with Augusta and Edward, Isabella had retired to her bedroom.
“And you must both have cabin fever, too. But I’m resolved to speak to Edward about it. If something was going to happen, it would already have done so,” Isabella reasoned, for she could not believe there was an imminent danger lurking in the shrubbery or waiting to snatch her away the moment she set foot outside the door.
The Baron of Longley had told her he had found no evidence of anything suspicious, and she had heard nothing from her father, save for a brief note delivered by a stable hand, telling her that he, too, was no closer to discovering the truth.
“Why don’t you get into bed, my lady. You’ll feel differently tomorrow, I’m sure,” Anne said, but Isabella knew she would not, and when she awoke the following morning, her mind was made up—she wouldtellEdward she was going outside, not ask his permission.
***
The pleasant scent of breakfast was wafting through the house as Isabella made her way downstairs. She had risen early—long before Augusta, who, she had discovered, was a late riser—and stood looking wistfully out of the window across the gardens, bathed in the mist of the sunrise. Caesar had stood there, too, his nose pressed to the glass, as eager as Isabella to escape.
I’m going to tell him, I won’t take no for an answer,Isabella told herself as she opened the dining room door.
The viscount was breakfasting alone, a dish of eggs and mushrooms in front of him, and he looked up at Isabella and smiled as she entered the room.
“Good morning. I trust you slept well,” he said as Marston pulled out Isabella’s chair for her, and the footman poured her a cup of coffee.
“I’d sleep better if I was tired,” Isabella replied, for she had passed a restless night, tossing and turning and unable to get to sleep.
“I find myself quite exhausted by the end of each day,” the viscount replied, clearly not realizing what Isabella was saying.
She helped herself to a large plate of devilled kidneys from the sideboard, sitting back down at the table as the butler brought in Edward’s correspondence. Isabella looked at him hopefully—she was expecting a letter from her father, longing for him to write and summon her back to Burlington Grange.
“Is there anything…for me?” Isabella asked, but the viscount shook his head.
“Nothing, I’m afraid. It’s all just dull business correspondence. There’s nothing to interest me, either, though I must deal with it all, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Isabella glanced out of the dining room window. The mist had cleared, leaving a perfect spring day. The lawns were dewy, the trees in blossoming bud, and Isabella longed to be walking across the grass with Caesar, breathing in the fresh air and the scent of new life bursting forth.
“I want to take Caesar out for a walk,” Isabella said.
She did not couch her words as a request but as a statement, but even as she spoke, Edward looked up and shook his head.
“Charles can take him,” he said, glancing at the footman, who nodded.
“He won’t walk with anyone else. It’s got to be me,” Isabella replied.
“Out of the question. It’s too dangerous,” the viscount replied.
“But you said yourself you didn’t know who could be threatening me. Your friend, the baron, said the same. It’s all just…speculation,” Isabella said, trying to keep her rising anger under check.
Edward had been kind to her. She owed him an enormous debt, but there was something strange about the persistence of his insistence on a lurking danger. Isabella had seen no evidence for it, and it was as though the bark was worse than the bite, and it was a fear of fear, rather than a true and tangible threat, keeping her confined. The viscount set down his knife and fork, fixing Isabella with an anxious expression.
“Isabella…Lady Isabella, I’ve promised your father I’ll take care of you. I’d be negligent in my duties if I allowed you to go wandering around the grounds. I’m fearful for your safety, and I’ve done everything I can to keep you safe. Please…won’t you allow me to continue doing so?” he said.
Isabella felt torn. Her anger subsided. She could not be angry with a man who was—in his own words—only trying to keep her safe. She was grateful to him for that, and yet Isabella could not rid herself of the unpleasant sensation of imprisonment and confinement she felt amidst the walls of Howdwell Heights.
“But the gardens…surely, just the gardens,” she said, for she had no intention of wandering off into the woodlands or out onto the moor.
But the viscount shook his head.
