Isolde groaned and turned on her side to vomit weakly. Arabella held her head and shoulders as Isolde heaved. When the retching subsided, she burst into tears.
"That man. Why was he trying to abduct me?" She looked desperately from one grim face to the next.
"I don’t know," Thomas said promptly. "Good thing we decided to keep an eye on you. I was right behind you. He wouldn’t have got away. I say Philip, are you all right?"
"Fine, really. He just threw her so hard I got bashed in the jewels. No hard feelings, Isolde, but you will make your apologies to my wife Jasmine, won’t you?" he said with a laugh.
"I couldn’t see very much from a distance. Did you know him?" Clifford asked.
"It was David Jarvis."
"Damnation!" Randall swore. "One of Howell’s set. That little bastard. I’ll bloody kill him."
"So now you’re prepared to believe me that there was a man?" Isolde asked wearily.
"I’m sorry. I was just so jealous," Randall admitted wretchedly.
He turned to Philip and managed to dredge up a sheepish apology. "I’m sorry for everything I said. I was a fool. I went mad when I saw the two of you thrashing about like that. Forgive me, Philip. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to Isolde, you and your wife, and I’ve been a complete ass accusing all of you so grossly."
"Apology accepted," Philip said at last. "But if that bastard Howell is still after her, you need to look after your wife a hell of a lot better than you did tonight. And you need to get hold of yourself, man. Your suspicions are going to poison your marriage and every friendship you have if you don’t."
Randall nodded. "I know. I won’t make the same mistake again. Thank you, thank you for saving my wife." He offered his hand.
To his relief, Philip took it and shook it warmly.
Randall stripped off his coat and draped it around his wife’s shoulders and began to walk her back to their carriage. Charlotte and Thomas continued to hover solicitously, and walked with them.
"Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I made such a mistake, behaved so barbarously in front of everyone."
"It’s all right, Randall. Just don’t do it again," Thomas said, knitting his brows.
He helped Isolde into the coach, shook Randall's hand, and then they were heading back to Barkston House.
Isolde had remained silent on the trip back to the coach. When he sat down next to her in the carriage she shrank into the corner away from him.
Randall tried to reach for his wife, but she jerked away from him into the corner even further.
"No. Stay away from me."
"I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to hold your hand."
"I don’t know you! I don’t want to know you! The world you’ve dragged me into is disgusting! As if that depraved little swine wasn’t bad enough, you accused our friends of the most vile-"
She took a deep steadying breath. "Accused me , after you swore you would try to trust me! What sort of man are you, that you can think such filthy things about innocent people?"
"You want to think well of everyone!" he exclaimed impatiently. "The world isn’t like that. Everyone has enemies. Even now, Howell is moving against us. I can feel him."
"That may well be true, but you can’t go around suspecting and accusing everyone in sight! I’m sorry I trusted Jarvis. He was someone I’ve met. I had no reason to think he would drag me off."
"I may have been a rake, but all of my women were willing. The same cannot be said for Howell’s. He is more dangerous and depraved than you can imagine, and you must be extra vigilant from now on. Promise me."
"I never even would have danced with him if you hadn’t been busy with that trollop Georgina Jerome rubbing your chest!" she accused angrily.
He sighed in exasperation. "Darling, for pity’s sake! I didn’t encourage her! I couldn’t get rid of her! Please, Isolde, don’t let this tear us apart. We both made a mistake. I love you. It sickens me to think of what could have happened, and I shall never relax my vigilance like that again."
She shook her head. "You can’t put me in a prison, I’ve told you that."
"A husband’s place is at his wife’s side."
"You can’t be with me all the time."
"I can sure as hell try! I’ll give up the painting, have the solicitors come down from London and—"
She stretched out one hand to place it on the back of one of his, which was sitting on his knee. "Randall, we would be keeping each other in jail if we did that. Please, in the end there was no harm done, except to poor Philip's groin, that is, so there's no need to shout at me. Please, can we stop fighting for now? I’m exhausted, and nothing is going to be resolved tonight."
He was instantly contrite. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that."
"I think Philip needs the apology more than I do."
"I was an idiot, I know. I think he’ll forgive me in time."
"He might, but the rest of the Rakehells were pretty cross. You blotted your copy book with them tonight."
He gave a sad smile. "Then I shall have to do my best to make you happy."
She shrank away from his questing fingers. "I’m sorry. I want to go home and have a bath. Alone. I can’t stop thinking of that man, and my skin crawls."
"I understand," he said quietly, though inwardly he feared that he was already losing her.
Chapter Eleven
As soon as they got home from the dreadful ball, Randall ran the bath for his still-shivering wife. Isolde was devastated by the attempt upon her virtue, and the reasons for it. Was she never to be safe from Howell? Was he always to be lurking in the shadows, weaving his evil web? She ran the bath as hot as she could stand it, and closed the door.
Randall waited anxiously outside, and with difficulty restrained himself from barging in or knocking to see if she was all right.
When at last she came out, she was white-faced and carried the crumpled gown. "Tell the servants to get rid of it please. I know you gave it to me, but I could never bear-"
"I understand, love. It’s only a dress. You can have a dozen new gowns."
He saw her get into bed wearily, and also noted that for the first time ever, she was wearing both a nightgown and dressing gown. He sighed. He went into the bathroom and undressed there, donning his own dressing gown before blowing out most of the candles in the room. He left his bedside one burning as he got into bed carefully. She lay rigidly on her back, her face white, her eyes closed.
"May I kiss you goodnight, on the cheek only?"
"Yes."
He gave her a peck, and then she moved in the bed and smiled. She reached for his hand, and then he was tight against her side and he cradled her as tenderly as one of the children.
"Sleep, now, darling. We’ll talk in the morning."
Isolde still felt ill from all that had happened and remained in bed, her eyes shielded from the light with her arm over her eyes. A plan was forming in her mind, a radical one, but one that might have to be considered given the danger she felt all around her.
"I’m going to stay in bed today, love. Why don’t you go visit Philip and Thomas, mend some fences with Philip?"
"You're under the weather. You need me here."
"No, really, I'm fine, I just need a bit more sleep. But you need to tell the Rakehells you're sorry."
His brows knit. "Do you really think I should go?"
"Yes, most definitely."
At length, he nodded. "If I do, will you promise me that you’ll rest here, and not go out?"
"I promise."
He stooped to kiss her on the brow tenderly, and began to dress.
As soon as he was gone, she got up and wrote to her brother to come as quickly as possible, bringing all of her father’s business and personal papers he could find.
Randall’s thoughts on how to protect his wife were also proceeding apace. Howell had to have a price. All men did. He despised him, and knew once he paid him anything, he would just k
eep on coming back. But the thought of him harming Isolde, or even any of the children, was just too devastating. They were all hostages to fortune....
But at least he had some friends. He headed over to Eltham Castle first, the easier of his two apologies, and said without preamble, "I’m sorry. I was a fool, Thomas. That remark about the orgy was really unforgivable. My only excuse is that I’m so in love with my wife I can’t think straight. I never meant to hurt you. I owe you all so much, more than I can ever say."
"But now Isolde is everything to you, and so she should be." The Duke smiled. "I never expected to be so in love with my wife as I am now. It’s grown with every passing day. Even when I think I can’t love her more, something happens to prove to me that I do.
"You know, the start of our marriage was also a bit unorthodox."
"Oh?"
The dark-haired Duke nodded. "I only married her to protect her from the seducer who had already ruined my sister."
"Oh my."
"But it was the best decision I ever made in my life. I couldn’t live without Charlotte now. I would be devastated if she were ever to be unfaithful.
"But I also know I have to trust her, or she will flee from me. And I also know that jealousy destroys. You ought not to be fighting with each other when Howell is out there to do you both harm. Especially to do you harm in her eyes."
"I know," Randall sighed. "I had hoped he would just go away and leave us alone. Now he seems to have a new wave of plots and schemes prepared for us. I can’t prove it. It’s just a feeling I have. What can I do, Thomas?"
"Find something to use against him. You know what he’s like. Go to London, get proof."
He shook his head, and pressed on the bridge of his nose to relieve the sudden pressure in his head. "I don’t want to leave my wife."
"We can write to Alistair Grant, then. He’ll know some detectives we can put on the case."
"And what if there's nothing to find? I want Isolde to be safe and happy. After what happened last night, I’m beginning to think that he’ll always be in the shadows, waiting to blight our lives."
"I will help you in whatever way I can," the Duke promised without hesitation. "As will Philip. Go see him now at Ashton Manor, and ask for his advice. He knows the seamy side of London better than anyone, and the law as well.
"Howell is a degenerate. He has to have committed some nasty deeds which could be construed as illegal. We will try to find people willing to testify to that effect. If there is any way of catching Howell in a criminal act, we’ll find out. We just need to work together, and be patient."
Randall took a deep, steadying breath. "All right, then. Let’s expose Howell once and for all. For Isolde’s sake, and any other victims he might have out there."
Thomas nodded, satisfied. "Go to Philip now. He’ll fill in Alistair, telling him everything we suspect."
Randall nodded. "So long as you promise me that the Rakehells will keep an eye on Isolde once I have to go away."
"I swear." He offered his hand, which Randall took. "Good man. You won’t regret this."
Randall sighed. "I certainly hope not. I already have enough regrets to last a lifetime."
After the attack at the ball, Isolde was confined to the house more than ever for a fortnight. But after her letter to her brother, her mother had unbent enough to allow their whole family to come to stay, and even the Clarences decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. They stayed for a few days and were impressed with her well-ordered home and the delightful children.
But Isolde grew more and more fractious at Randall’s continual worrying over her. Finally she asserted, "This is absurd. He tried to snatch me in a crowd. I was safer with the Rakehells than on my own. They all came to my rescue. I don’t want to hide any more. Never go anywhere without an armed escort," she said, referring to his sudden habit of carrying a pistol with him everywhere.
"Then I'll go with you—"
"You have other interests to pursue."
He frowned. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. "That almost sounds like an accusation."
"I’m sorry," she sighed.
"Surely you don’t think I’m carrying on some sort of what, intrigue behind your back?" he exclaimed indignantly.
All she had to do was say yes, and it would be out in the open. But she quailed at the last moment. What was it Arabella had said about the consequences of confronting her husband before she knew more for certain? "No, I never said—"
"But you’ve thought it, haven’t you?" he asked, his lips tight.
She nodded miserably. "I have thought it. But then I tell myself you love me, that it’s all in my head."
"I’ve explained about Georgina that night!"
"It’s all right," she said quickly. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
He sighed. "As if I can. Not when you apparently doubt me continually. Very well. You and I shall not stir without each other. Where you go, I do."
"No, really. I didn’t mean..."
He was as good as his word, however, to the point where they both donated their time to the local adult reading lessons. Isolde’s sewing skills earned her the honor of head of a new sewing circle. All of her particular friends joined, and several lovely young single ladies from the area. They took turns hosting in each of their houses.
Randall tagged along and made himself as useful as possible, threading needles and sorting silks. They all found his presence odd, but he was so good looking it was no great loss having him there.
Isolde had ample cause to complain, however, when she discovered her spouse having a private conversation in the hall with one of the young ladies one day. She looked daggers at the girl, who ran scurrying back to the drawing room.
"So you know her, do you?" she asked in a cold tone.
"We’ve met once or twice."
"Met? Socially, or carnally?"
"Socially, I swear. She was just welcoming me to the neighborhood. Her family are good respectable people. I have never plucked roses still in bud."
She shuddered, and sat down on the small gilt hall chair before she fell down.
"For heaven’s sake, Isolde, think! I would never debauch a child like her! She is all of what, fifteen? What sort of degenerate do you take me for? It’s insulting that you would even suggest it."
"I’m sorry, it’s just-"
"I know jealousy isn’t reasonable, but please, use your common sense next time, before you make yourself and me so upset!"
"That’s just it, though! How many more next times will there be?"
He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her. "None, if you can trust me!"
"I don’t notice you being so calm when I’m teaching the literacy lessons at the parish hall," she accused with a sharp glance.
He had the grace to colour up. "I am trying, though."
"I’ve given you no cause to be jealous! I’m hardly like to have a quick roll around atop the desk in full view of our vicar Jonathan Deveril, now am I?"
He laughed shakily, and then scooped her up and brought her into their private parlor. "When you put it like that, then yes, I can see what an ass I’ve been. I’m sorry. Forgive me?"
"If you forgive me."
He nodded. "I give you my word. I know you are a lovely woman. People would be blind if they didn’t notice and admire you. But I know you, Isolde." He placed his hand on her heart. "You’re incapable of guile. I just that fear you are too trusting."
"Well, I was in your case that first night, was I not?" she said quietly.
"But I shall never cause you to regret it, I swear."
She ran her hands down his chest to his waistband, leaving him in no doubt of her desires.
"But darling, the sewing circle."
"They’ll be fine for a few moments. Like you said, this wife has a lot better things to do with her hands," she said, a determined light in her eyes as she bent her head and pleasured him until he was faint.
Randall kept his word abo
ut restraining his jealousy, though it was not always easy. He missed not having very much time alone with Isolde, resented any intrusions upon their family circle. Their schedule grew ever more hectic, and she steeled herself for the inevitable. One day it came.
"I’m sorry, darling, I’m simply going to have to get up to London and make my maiden speech, and sign some papers in person," he said in what he hoped was a casual tone. "Much as I would love you to come with me, I think it best if you stay here to keep an eye on Mother, don’t you?"
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection #4 Page 38
