A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell

by Joanna Johnson

  ‘Honora...’ He snatched a glance across at Charlotte, feeling the insistent tick of his pulse at his dry throat. If his ward overheard this conversation, decided to get involved... She’d always obeyed his orders not to mention Frank’s name within the walls of Marlow Manor, forbidden by disgust and the desire to erase the past. It lingered like a silent ghost, however, never uttered but doubtless thought of every day—and never more than a whisper away from guilty lips. Any talk of secrets was sure to intrigue Charlotte and risk breaking the taboo, the spectre of Frank surely one that haunted her more than anyone could know. Now, though, she seemed happy enough—distracted as any sixteen-year-old girl would be, her attention was entirely absorbed by the trunk of dresses she delved inside, deaf to all else but the occasional grumble of her son that Honora quickly soothed. Currently the only part of her Isaac could see was her back as she drew out another silky creation and he turned to his wife, slightly more assured they weren’t to be overheard.

  ‘What is it you think I’m hiding?’

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’ Honora shrugged, but it was an unhappy gesture that tore at Isaac’s soul. ‘All I know is that two days ago you seemed to stumble into saying more about Frank than you intended and now I can’t help but feel you’re avoiding me. So what is it? What happened in connection with Frank you think you have to conceal? Your venom was so strong and yet you denied it. I want to know why.’

  Isaac opened his mouth, but only air came forth, a soft sigh that must have told Honora more than any words. She watched him so closely, her frame so rigid at the end of that great bed, and the ache inside him to finally abandon the lies that had bound him for so long grew unbearable. It twisted through his insides and wrung out his chest, a weight within him suddenly exhausting. It would be so much easier to confess, to pay Honora the ultimate compliment of the truth—and as he stared down into her waiting eyes he knew he could deny her nothing.

  She’ll hate me. She’ll be distraught, for what I’m about to tell her and by the fact I kept it hidden for so long—and the knowledge I was once almost as undeserving a man as Frank. I ought to have told her long ago, but I can’t look her in the eye now and lie. Not when she sits before me as everything I ever wanted, the only woman I know I’ll ever love.

  He pushed a hand through his hair, searching in vain for the wisdom of how to begin. The tense wariness on Honora’s countenance grew by the moment, her attention never straying from him as he took a short step away and back again like an animal in a cage. More than once he saw her lips twitch as though she wanted to ask a question, but each time she stopped short, waiting for him to speak with the same nervous energy he recognised from the first moment he had seen her.

  I wonder if she wishes she had her pistol on her now? Fortunate for me she doesn’t have it to hand. I wonder how many holes I’d be left with if it was beside her when I finished.

  ‘Isaac? Why are you pacing like that?’

  Charlotte’s puzzled glance shot through Isaac like a bullet from Honora’s flintlock and he stopped at once, head whipping round to see her standing at the other side of the room with a pretty green muslin hanging from her fingers. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, so innocently unaware of his turmoil it made his stomach clench.

  Charlotte. I almost forgot she was there.

  How would she have felt to overhear the horrible truth issue from his lips, her most shameful secret laid bare before Honora’s cautious stare? If he was to finally take that plunge, the most dangerous path from which there was no way back, it must be private, to spare Honora’s horror and Charlotte’s distress, although no matter how carefully he broke the news he knew there was no way of avoiding pain completely—

  But his scheming was in vain.

  Honora glanced from Isaac’s set face to Charlotte’s open one and in that single look seemed to make up her mind. Before she even opened her mouth to speak Isaac knew it was too late, absolute certainty that he had just lost his one chance blinding him like a beacon of forlorn light.

  ‘Isaac was about to tell me of his dealings with Frank Blake, Charlotte. Perhaps you know why such a thing might make him seem so ill at ease?’

  Isaac watched helplessly as the colour drained from Charlotte’s cheeks. At the very mention of that name all light died in his ward’s expression and she froze, the dress still clutched in her fingers, but sagging limply like an empty sack.

  ‘Frank Blake? What...what do you know about him?’

  ‘More than I’d like to, in truth. Did you know him as well as Isaac?’

  Charlotte’s eyes flickered around the room like a rabbit’s might when caught in a trap, trying to find a way out. Isaac took a step towards her, but Honora rose, too, dodging neatly round him to hasten across the room.

  ‘Dearest, you’ve gone white. Sit down at once. Whatever’s the matter? Do you feel ill?’

  The girl shook her head, her eyes seeking Isaac’s and locking desperately on to him as though he could save her from Honora’s unwitting cruelty. ‘I’m not... I’m not allowed to talk about Frank.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  As if seeing it in a dream Isaac watched Honora’s head turn in his direction, confusion and—worse, so very much worse—dawning distrust breaking over her beloved features. He wanted to reach out for her, to gather her against him and make her see he would never have chosen to hurt her, but his arms wouldn’t move and all he could do was plead.

  ‘Honora. Honora, wait a moment—’

  ‘Why, Charlotte?’ Honora backed away from him, wariness radiating from her now that cut Isaac to the bone. ‘Why aren’t you allowed to talk about him?’

  Charlotte had sunk down on to the lid of the trunk of dresses and reached out to take Christopher with shaking hands. She seemed to quail beneath Honora’s strange calm, its unnaturalness a sign to anybody that something was dangerously wrong. ‘Isaac forbid his name.’

  ‘And why would he do that?’ Honora pressed on, quietly but giving no quarter. ‘Was something amiss between you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it certainly was.’

  Like one trapped in a nightmare Isaac could predict exactly what was coming, but was powerless to prevent it. Only minutes before they’d been laughing at Charlotte’s delight, but now as he saw his wife’s rising fear he thought he might never laugh again. Her breathing seemed to have speeded up and the bodice of her gown rose and fell quickly, reminding him of someone having just finished a race, but there was no running from what he knew was about to fall from Charlotte’s lips.

  ‘How so?’ Honora prompted the poor girl, fixing her with an unblinking stare that excluded Isaac completely. ‘In what way did he offend you so grievously?’

  Desperation rose up inside Isaac’s very core and with one final push he freed himself from the paralysing spell that bound him. ‘Honora, please!’ He reached for her, tried to seize her hand and make her look up into his face. If she would only see the true feeling there surely she couldn’t hate him—if only she would let him explain—but she shook him off, coldness blazing from her now as icy as the driven snow, and when she stooped down to catch Charlotte’s shame-filled whisper Isaac felt the ground shift beneath his feet.

  ‘Mr Blake. Frank. He...’ Charlotte swallowed, tears rising that clawed at Isaac’s tattered soul and surely told Honora all she would ever need to know. ‘Heaven forgive me, as well as him. He was Christopher’s father and he died running for his life from Isaac’s rage.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The clasp of Honora’s case bit into her finger as she pushed it closed, but she didn’t feel its sting. Her senses seemed to have stopped working and she was hardly aware of anything other than the kernel of pain lodged deep inside her, a glowing ember of agony that burned brighter with each breath. Her entire existence had shrunk to fit into the terrible space that throbbed and ached as though part of her soul had been torn out.
r />   It was all a lie. Every last word of it. He never loved me at all.

  The truth repeated itself over and over again, twisting through Honora’s mind like an echo that wouldn’t end. The facts were so clear to her now she could have kicked herself for not seeing them sooner. Frank had fathered Charlotte’s child and, in order to stop Honora from spreading the scandalous story, Isaac had made her believe he loved her, silencing her with false regard and the prospect of a family that now lay in tatters. Of course there had never been a true return of the feelings that had melted her cold heart. She’d been tricked again, lured into dancing to a handsome man’s tune by sweet words and broken promises, and now she was set adrift once more to be borne away by suffering and the knowledge everything she’d thought she had found was lost.

  Leaning over the case, she closed her eyes, for the briefest of moments allowing her body to sag beneath the despair that pulled her down. Her strength was in danger of leaving her just when she needed it the most. It was a long walk to the nearest coaching inn and, although she had left the gowns Isaac had bought her hanging in the armoire, the bag was still a dead weight. Given the choice she wouldn’t make the gruelling trek down muddy roads, dragging her luggage with her—but there was no choice. She was leaving, putting the hulking shadow of Marlow Manor behind her, and she determined there and then that she wouldn’t look back.

  But Isaac seemed equally determined he wouldn’t let her go.

  Dimly Honora heard another round of hammering on the locked door of their bedchamber. The numbness that had invaded her body the moment Charlotte uttered that tearful confession still covered her like a cloak of disbelief, blunting the full horror she knew would consume her soon enough. For the moment it was as though she was floating through a bad dream, watching the sickening truth unfold through a pane of frosted glass that could splinter into piercing shards at any time.

  ‘Honora, please. Open the door!’

  The handle turned fruitlessly and the door shuddered a little on its hinges as Isaac’s voice came again to beseech her through solid wood. It was amazing how genuine he sounded, some far-off part of her thought, considering his regard for her was as false as Frank’s had ever been. No wonder she’d been fooled, Isaac’s gift for play-acting so convincing it had brought her to her knees.

  At least I know Charlotte had no part. Her unhappiness couldn’t be faked by even the most talented liar—she never knew my connection with Frank and I imagine she feels as much an idiot as I do for trusting Isaac’s word.

  The handle gave a particularly violent rattle and Honora watched it in impassive silence. Isaac would break the door down at this rate, although what he hoped to achieve by forcing her to speak to him she couldn’t possibly guess. The damage had been done, the truth was out, and all that was left was for Honora to wait for the first fog to lift, when the full severity of what was happening would hit her like a punishing blow.

  ‘Please, my love. Open the door and I can explain. If you would only listen...’

  Dazed as she was, some of Isaac’s pleading managed to penetrate Honora’s hazy mind. She still felt numb, detached somehow from the reality that snapped at her, but something else began to creep between the cracks in her shattered heart to fill her with icy shame.

  ‘My love’? I was never his love. I was only ever his pawn.

  Humiliation lapped at the edges of her consciousness and she took a deep breath, the stretch of it painful, but helping her stand in the face of her misery. Under the façade of Isaac’s ‘love’ she had thought herself accepted, drawn into the tapestry of life at Marlow Manor, but it had all been a lie she’d been too idiotic to see. There was nothing left for her now Isaac had blown apart her hard-won happiness. For him to persist in trying to fool her was more than she could bear.

  With another steadying breath Honora heaved her case off the bed and turned resolutely away before the sight of the great four-poster could wound her further. It was the very bed in which she and Isaac had expressed their love for each other. She had found surety in the embrace of his strong arms and a purpose in the press of his lips on hers—but with a hot rush of shame she clenched her jaw. There had been no love after all, only false coin on Isaac’s side and a hopeless yearning on hers, and the ruins of her dreams for the future circled round to taunt her as she squared her shoulders and with the greatest reluctance opened the door.

  ‘Honora. At last.’

  Isaac’s gaze was anxious as he immediately stepped to her side, his sharp eyes roaming her face and then lower to spy the case gripped in her fist. At once he shook his head, one hand coming up to pass over his forehead and his cheeks pale with what a more naive woman might take for dismay.

  ‘I know what you’re planning to do, but please. You can’t. You can’t leave me.’

  Honora’s stomach lurched at the entreaty in his voice, but she jerked her bag away from his fingers when he tried to take it. Whatever sense of disbelief had shielded her was swiftly evaporating now Isaac was before her, attempting to block her way, and the shame that curdled her insides ebbed slightly to make way for rising grief.

  ‘Can’t I? Why not?’ She spat the words as though they tasted foul in her mouth, cursing the tremor of emotion that accompanied them. She would not allow Isaac to see the tears she feared would soon begin to fall, the beloved face of the man that stared down at her one she would never show vulnerability to ever again. ‘You know I can’t stay. You know there’s nothing here for me now. Everything I thought I could count on was a lie—and you the creator of it all.’

  She turned resolutely away, snatching up the skirts of her dress so not even the hem brushed Isaac’s boots as she passed. No part of her would touch him again, she vowed desperately, not now he had betrayed her—he was a Judas and deserved none of the ache that dogged each beat of her broken heart, lying in pieces that scattered to the wind.

  ‘But it was all real, aside from my dealings with Frank. I should never have tried to keep that truth from you. I wanted to protect Charlotte and then I was too ashamed to admit our real friendship when I saw how much you’d despise me... I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than I can say.’

  Isaac tried once more to get between her and escape, his face white and hands ready to reach for her, but she shouldered past him and, with her teeth set so hard it hurt, made for the staircase at the end of the landing. Each step was an effort, every placing of her foot an ordeal she had no choice but to make even as her spirit wanted to return to sink into Isaac’s arms. It would be so easy to believe his sweet persuasion and allow herself to be drawn back under his spell, so wonderful to pretend it could all be made better—but when he strode ahead to bar her way she turned on him like a lion, bitterness and shame forcing her lips into an agonised grimace.

  ‘No!’

  She watched with fierce despair as he took half a step backwards, the passion in that one word sure to make a lesser man flinch away completely. His mouth opened to answer her harsh rebuke, but she didn’t let him speak, cutting across him and wishing the prickling behind her eyes would stop.

  ‘You let me think I was wanted here, needed even—when really you were just keeping me close to protect Charlotte’s secret. Did you really think I’d do anything to expose her? Did you truly think so little of me to fear that?’ Honora heard the rising of her voice, but couldn’t stop it, sick unhappiness stealing away all restraint. ‘You must have had scant regard for me—just like Frank did. You lied to me—just like Frank did. You made...’ A sob rose in her throat and she tried to swallow it down, although another came at once to finally free the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. ‘You made me fall in love with you when you knew you had no use for my heart—just like Frank did. For all your promises you were the same in the end, or worse, even, for he never gave me everything I wanted only to rip it away and my feelings for him were never anywhere close to what I felt for you. You have ruined me, I
saac, and now the best thing you can do is to let me go.’

  The tears slid down her face and angrily she cuffed them away, determined Isaac wouldn’t see. His eyes burned into hers, taking in the sight of her misery and some reflection of it creasing his own brow—but she wouldn’t be fooled again. Isaac might pretend to care for her, but she knew better and there was nothing he could say or do to stop her from leaving now with the fragile scraps of dignity she still possessed.

  ‘Please don’t do this.’ Once again Isaac tried for her hand, but she moved away, her arm hanging heavy and barely responsive. Only the very tips of his fingers brushed hers, contact she both hated and craved, knowing it would be the final time his skin ever touched hers.

  ‘Honora, don’t go. Please. Stay and give me the chance to prove myself,’ he implored her. ‘I love you.’

  She looked up into his earnest face and felt the pieces of her heart grating inside her like broken glass. He sounded so sincere.

  And yet for the entire time we’ve known each other he has hidden the fact Frank is Christopher’s father from me. He would have let me help raise the child without a clue, as if it didn’t matter at all.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Honora stated simply. ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t have kept me in ignorance. You could have told me at any time, but you didn’t. That isn’t the action of a man in love.’

  With finality that drove a knife into the raw cavity behind her breastbone she slipped past Isaac’s outstretched hand and descended the stairs, her case bumping behind her. She heard Isaac’s heavy tread at her back, but stumbled on, feeling that at any moment her legs might give way beneath her.