Page 28 of A Dangerous Little Scandal

Isadora was completely and irrevocably foolish. No, it was worse than that.

She was absolutelynonsensical.

As two new passengers entered the coach and separated her from Lord Osgood, she could only think it was a blessing that they had stopped when they had. Isadora had made mistakes in her life, but allowing herself to become so consumed by Lord Osgood, to the point she forgot everything else she had promised herself in the past, could not be borne. There was just something so… compelling about him that it was difficult for her to resist his allure.

She was worried now that things might get complicated when they reached Dalkeith. But with any luck, they would be on opposite sides of—Dear God, did he even know where they would be staying? But more importantly, why hadn’t she thought to ask before she’d set out on this impromptu journey?

Perhaps it is because you like the marquess more than you are willing to admit, her inner voice chided.

She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her attention fixated out the window, hoping that she might shut thatannoying voice out of her mind. But when it started to get dark and all she could see was her own reflection in the pane, she gave up the pretense and dared to glance over at the marquess once again.

His attention was diverted by the gentleman at his side. By the animated way he was using his hands, it was obvious they were in some sort of deep discussion, but only the lord knew what it might be. His companion was dressed like a common villager, but he responded to Lord Osgood with a hearty laugh. She was glad to see that they were getting along so well. When Isadora glanced at her companion, she saw that his head was leaned back against the squabs, his mouth wide open and snoring rather loudly. How she had managed to ignore him until that point was beyond her. It just proved how preoccupied she had been with thoughts of the marquess.

There was a shudder and Isadora reached out a hand to steady herself as the coach came to an abrupt halt, listing on one side. The man beside her grumbled and said in a deeply annoyed, Scottish burr, “Whot’s goin’ on?”

“It appears we’ve stopped,” his friend returned blandly.

The door opened and four pairs of eyes turned to the coachman, who stood almost ankle deep in mud from the recent rains. His coat was glistening with moisture and his hat was still dripping. “One o’ th’ wheels broke. We’re close to Lauder, so we’re goin’ to ’ave to stop ’ere until it gets repaired. I’ll warn ye that it may be for th’ night.” He moved aside. “I’m afraid ye’ll ’ave to walk from ’ere.”

Isadora glanced at the marquess, who looked at her grimly. “How far are we from Dalkeith?” she asked.

“Aboot another day’s ride ’n this miserable weather,” the man sitting beside her said.

She yearned to sigh, but instead, she got up, and moved past the other occupants. The coachman lifted a hand to help her down, but nevertheless, the soft ground beneath Isadora was nota pleasant sensation. She raised her skirts as high as possible to keep them out of the muck, but still try and retain her modesty. Even so, by the time they reached the dim lights of the village ahead, the hem would likely be filthy.

Once everyone was out of the coach, the driver joined his companion at the front of the carriage as they worked to free the horses and lead them into town. The two men who had been inside with them were already sloshing ahead of them.

The marquess stopped beside her and held out his arm. She accepted it and they began to trudge forward.

She looked back longingly at her trunks which were still strapped securely to the top of the vehicle. “We nearly made it without incident,” she said, hoping that it might erase the frown from his expression.

“This latest delay just further proves that this was a wasted endeavor to begin with. I should have just stayed in England where I belong.” He paused, his tone serious when he added, “I shouldn’t have dragged you along. It was selfish of me to do so. If you hadn’t come with me, then you could be having a cup of hot tea in comfort right now.”

“I could,” she noted slowly. “But then I would be missing out on a wonderful adventure.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Is that what you would call this? I should use a few other choice words for wading through several inches of mud in the midst of a drenched countryside in the middle of the night.” He sighed heavily. “I just hope there’s a hot bath in my future.”

Isadora froze, as the image of his naked body, water droplets sliding down his muscular torso and legs was suddenly imprinted on her brain.

“Perhaps it’s your conscience telling you to release some of your inhibitions.”

His statement to her the day they’d visited the Bedlington Ironworks not so long ago flashed through her memory. Foryears, she had locked away all her desires and flirtations, pushing aside everything that made her a woman, because she had been devastated by someone about whom she had cared a great deal, someone she had loved. Never had she imagined she might feel anything close to the same stirrings within her breast—until she’d met Lord Osgood. He made her feel things that she’d thought were buried, snuffed out by a youthful infatuation with the forbidden.

But since there was no hope of anything between them, she slid her glance away as they continued walking.

When they reached the inn, things went from bad to worse. They were informed that only one room was available.

“One room is fine for my husband and I.”

She could feel the marquess stiffen beside her, but she graciously accepted the key from the man behind the counter. As they started for the stairs, Lord Osgood muttered, “We went from cousins to husband and wife rather quickly.”

She found the correct room and inserted the key into the lock. “Would you have preferred to sleep in the stables?” she returned dryly.

She opened the door to find that it beheld modest furnishings—a washstand, dresser, a dressing screen which likely hid the essentials, and of course, the dominating bed in the center of it all.

Neither of them seemed willing to actuallylookat it.

Lord Osgood walked over to the grate to bend down and stir the dying fire back to life. “Do you want to wash up first?”

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