“I love you so much I’m willing to let you go.”
“You don’t want me anymore?”
“I want you! But I want you to use your head. If you choose me, be clearheaded. I’m an unemployed academic with a pedigree the village baker could best! On the heels of this annulment, you could avoid the worst of scandal. Your parents may yet amend their stance and apologize for all the harm they caused you. For their own pride’s sake, they may wish to make quite a show of their acceptance and sympathy. Genuine or not, it would be all the support you needed to rewind the clock and begin anew.”
Isabel’s look wavered between astonishment and anger. “You’re impossible, Darius Thorne! Pushing me around and making foolish pronouncements about your worthiness! You think you’re the only one clever enough to have any perspective? To see beyond the surface of things and to understand what’s at stake?”
He slowly shook his head but was unable to speak.
His silence only fueled her fury.
“You think nothing of my happiness! I may not worry about class and blood, but it’s clear to me now that you are the one trapped by prejudice and preconceptions!”
Darius cleared his throat. “I’m not trapped. I’m just more familiar with the ways of the world, Isabel.”
“I don’t care if your parents were pig farmers, you prat of a man! I don’t care! And I said I loved you! Which apparently is also a fact you’ve dismissed in your survey of the game! Well, I don’t wish to play! I’m not a pawn to be protected or ignored! I’ve learned the lesson, Mr. Thorne. I am the most powerful woman on the board and I don’t need you or any man telling me what is best for me or wh-what . . .”
Her tirade suddenly lost steam, a faint confusion clouding her eyes as the sound of a horse’s whinny interrupted her thoughts. “B-but that’s impossible. . . .”
She turned on her heel and ran toward the stable adjoining the garden only to be confronted with the sight of a very impatient and anxious Samson demonstrating to Ashe’s grooms that he wasn’t about to be pulled or pushed anywhere.
“Samson!” she cried out and, ignoring the fearful warnings of the stablemen, ran forward and threw her arms around his great black neck, sobbing in relief and joy. The stallion’s reaction was equally remarkable as he lowered his head to enjoy every wet kiss she offered him and accept the worship that he considered his due.
Darius watched the scene, pleased to see her happy and miserable at the return of his unreasonable jealousy of his equine rival. He watched them until he couldn’t bear the sight of his beautiful Helen for another second and turned to go.
“Wait.”
Darius froze and Isabel’s hand on his arm pulled him back to face her once again.
“You secured an annulment, negotiated my freedom, took care of all of the legalities, and . . . somehow managed to get Samson in the bargain?” she asked in astonishment. “How?”
“A stroke of luck,” he conceded. “Pure luck.”
“Darius?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the most amazing and thoughtful gesture that anyone has ever made to me. How is it possible that you can solve complex puzzles, master foreign languages, and wield such intellect and then be so blind when it comes to love?”
Darius studied her for a long moment. “I just want you to be happy, Isabel. What if you had everything you ever wanted and it was my selfish desire to be a part of your life that ruined it for you?”
“And what if you’re wrong?” she asked.
“How wrong?”
“Completely wrong,” she said with a smile. “How can anyone still think themselves selfish when they’ve sacrificed everything for someone else? My happiness isn’t going to be found at a ball. It isn’t about the balance in my accounts or ribbons and hats and ridiculous parties.”
“Perhaps not but—”
“No. You cannot have it both ways, Darius Thorne. Am I the queen? Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop overriding my wishes. I’m telling you that you are my happiness. I will forfeit anything to have you, Darius, and I will never know a moment of regret.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, a blaze of hope overtaking him.
“I am sure that I tire of living in sin, sir. I am sure that we should marry quickly and here so that my best friend, Mrs. Blackwell, can be in attendance and so that our child can bear the name Thorne with all the pride and pomp it is due.”
“Our child?” he whispered.
“Let’s be clear, Mr. Thorne. I am marrying you because I love you! Not because of . . . circumstances.”
He nodded wordlessly, then finally managed to speak. “But you are marrying me.”
Isabel smiled. “Yes.”
“Then that, my dear Helen, is what is known as man’s ultimate victory.”
Chapter
29
At Rowan’s brownstone, every seat and corner inside his eclectic study was filled with the Jaded and their wives, all gathered in a quiet evening’s revelry.
“I cannot believe it! Thorne is tethered, and by such an elegant hand!” Galen smiled. “Welcome to our odd family, Miss Penleigh. I’d always thought that Darius would be the last in our company to find a willing wife.”
Isabel blushed. “Thank you, Lord Winters. But I cannot believe such a thing of Darius. He is too appealing to go unnoticed or to be neglected by the fairer sex for long.”
Rowan held up a small tray full of glasses of sherry for their toasts, which his wife promptly took from him to avoid spills. “We don’t doubt he’s pretty,” the doctor teased, “but we had worried that he wouldn’t look up from his books long enough to even notice the fairer sex.”
“I swear, I would think you men would be kinder to each other,” Gayle chided as she graciously ensured that everyone had a glass of their own. “Poor Darius.”
Isabel sighed and stepped closer to her fiancé. “There is nothing poor about Mr. Thorne.”
Darius took her free hand, tucking it into the protective harbor of his bent elbow. “Don’t mind them, my darling. They are mannerless oafs and it takes some time to accustom yourself to their idea of jealous compliments.” He shot his friends a cutting look over the rim of his gold glasses, and the men sobered as best they could, especially in the presence of ladies.
“We were fools not to use our heads as wisely as Thorne and find our wives by hiding in libraries,” Galen conceded, raising his glass of lemon water to initiate the festivities. “A toast!”
“Yes,” Haley concurred, rising from her chair in a lovely dress of ruby raw silk. “I think a toast is definitely called for.”
Michael stood from his chair in the corner, joining in the gesture. “To a friend’s well-deserved happiness.”
Rowan lifted his glass. “To you both!”
“To Darius and Isabel! May the difficulties of your beginnings mean you’ll have nothing but ease from this day forward!” Ashe raised his glass even higher.
“You’re not taking her back to the wilds of Scotland too soon, are you?” Galen asked.
“Stay long enough for a new trousseau!” Haley added. “My gift to wish you well, Isabel.”
“Thank you, Haley!” Isabel said, her eyes filling with tears at the generosity of her friends. “You are too kind.”
“Not to Scotland too soon,” Darius said. “Not for a while yet. There’s too much going on here, and Caroline has asked Isabel to stay for her confinement. I hate to be the one to point out the obvious, but a feminine coalition has been created behind your backs, gentlemen. The Jaded have been outflanked.”
Michael’s eyes darkened. “Not all of the Jaded. At least one of us has to keep a clear head during troubled times.”
“Your turn is coming,” Rowan said firmly, but Michael’s look was uncompromising.
“Never.” Michael put down his glass, his gray eyes darkening with his vow.
“Enough!” Isabel swatted at Darius’s shoulder. “No one is outflanking any
one. It is an innocent friendship among the wives and I am grateful for it. Leave Mr. Rutherford alone. Besides, my promises to Caroline aren’t the only reason we’re staying.” Isabel turned to address the circle, her voice laced with quiet pride. “My husband-to-be has accepted a formal position as head of the new women’s college at Bellewood. Mrs. Blackwell has asked him to run the academic programs and see to the certifications!”
“The formal academic position you always dreamed of!” Rowan cheered. “Ashe! Why didn’t you think of it?”
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. “I was still befuddled by my beautiful American’s insistence at hiring female professors as well as male instructors for the venture. Besides,” he said in mock defense, “I assumed Darius was already occupied. I’ve never met anyone so buried in books and paper in my life.”
“A terrible recommendation if ever I’ve heard one,” Darius said with a smile.
“There’s still a certain prophecy to resolve and a wounded Jackal on our heels,” Michael stated flatly. “We’ll need that keen mind of yours if we’re to move ahead.”
Gayle stepped forward. “Yes, but that is for another day. Tonight, we are celebrating the joy we have and not lamenting unknown shadows on the horizon. Gentlemen, please. For one night, let us pretend that our greatest worry is coming up with a better name for your club.”
There was laughter all around at her jest, and hearty protests defending the Jaded “to the end.”
***
Darius pulled Isabel from their midst and retreated to the quiet of Rowan’s first-floor landing to take his fiancée into his arms. She was a vision in a pale blue silk, wearing the peacock necklace he’d sent for from Craig & Cavendish’s. The opals of a raja gleamed at her throat, their opulence muted and outshone by her delicate beauty and the love shining from her eyes. The necklace had been his engagement gift to her, and Darius knew it had somehow been fashioned for her alone.
Isabel blushed. “What are your intentions, Mr. Thorne?”
He carefully placed one hand at her back and lifted the other level with his shoulder. “I’m going to dance with the woman I love until the world falls away.”
“Oh!” She smiled at him in the candlelit hallway. “There is no music, Mr. Thorne.”
“Since when has that stopped us?”
He swept her into a turn, and Isabel laughed, giddy with the euphoria of finding her place in his arms, protected and safe.
And invincible.
***
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Berkley Sensation Titles by Renee Bernard
REVENGE WEARS RUBIES
SEDUCTION WEARS SAPPHIRES
ECSTASY WEARS EMERALDS
PASSION WEARS PEARLS
OBSESSION WEARS OPALS
Obsession Wears Opals Page 30
