by Joyce Alec
Isabella’s cheeks pinkened as she pulled the cotton out of her ears, grateful that she had remembered to do so. Even with the cotton, the sounds could be heard, but at least it was not as loud as it had been for the others in attendance.
“Isabella!” a delicate voice rang out.
Isabella turned to see Lillian and James striding toward her, warmth infusing through her bones as she embraced the young woman. A sudden cold had kept Isabella abed since her first visit, and she had truly missed her newfound friend and her handsome brother, enjoying their company far too much. “Come,” she said, linking arms with Lillian. “I wish for you to meet my mother.”
Turning, Isabella sought out her mother, bringing Lillian to her. “Mama, I would like to introduce you to Lady Lillian Brenton.”
“Oh, how lovely to finally meet you,” her mother said politely. “I have heard a great deal about you, my dear.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Gareden,” Lillian smiled as she motioned for her brother to join her. “This is my brother, Lord Rearden.”
“My lady,” James said, bowing over the older woman’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet the woman who has raised such a lovely daughter.”
“Oh,” her mother replied, her cheeks pinkening as her eyes met her daughter’s. “I am afraid Isabella has not mentioned you, my lord.”
James’ brow raised as he glanced at Isabella. “She did not? And here I thought I had given her plenty of reasons to do so.”
Isabella opened her mouth, but her mother spoke first, laughing as she waved her hand in the air. “I am sure it is because of the wedding. It is all Isabella can think about.”
James’ brow rose even higher, and Isabella was at a loss of how to explain the situation to her friends. The silence became uncomfortable.
“Please excuse me,” her mother stated, patting her daughter’s hand. “I must speak to Lady Crennington before she departs.” She offered polite farewells to Lillian and James and left Isabella with her friends.
Isabella nodded tightly as her mother disappeared into the crowd before she turned back to Lillian and James. “I…I can explain,” she stammered.
“I am sure you can,” Lillian said, a softened expression on her face. “Perhaps we shall go for a walk tomorrow if you wish.” She clapped her hands together, delight filling her expression. “I know! James must escort us to Bond Street for some Christmas shopping!”
“Wonderful,” James muttered, his eyes on Isabella. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Lady Isabella?”
Isabella swallowed as Lillian pushed her toward her brother, and she took his arm with some trepidation. What was she going to say? Her attraction to James was all too real, and while she was engaged, she wasn’t enthralled by her fiancé. Not even in the slightest.
But the fact remained that she was engaged, and she must respect her commitment to Lord Vistley.
James waited until they had cleared much of the crowd before he tugged her closer to him, his eyes on the path ahead. “I gather this is not something you wished for?”
“It is not,” Isabella said softly, feeling her heart breaking as she spoke the words she had been holding back for so long. “It is an arranged marriage and I cannot break it.”
He blew out a breath. “It is a pity, then. I was starting to enjoy your company.”
“And I yours,” she answered as he came to a halt before her. She could see the confusion in his eyes and wished to soothe him somehow, but there was nothing to say. “I am sorry I did not tell you sooner.”
He shrugged and released her arm, giving her a smile she felt clear to her toes. “We shall endeavor to get through this together.”
Isabella returned his smile, though she did not feel quite as confident. The agreement was ironclad, the dowry already decided upon. She was as good as married.
But there was a glimmer of hope in knowing that James had feelings for her as well, even though they had just met. Could they overcome this arranged marriage? Her father would never relent, of course, especially since Lord Vistley was his closest associate. Oh, how she wished James had been there for the entire season!
“Do not worry,” he said softly, almost as though he had read her thoughts, reaching out to touch her arm before thinking better of it. “All will work out in the end.”
She nodded and forced a smile. It was all she could do.
5
The next morning, Isabella laughed as she stuck her frigid hands into her warm muff, her breath visible in the cold air. It seemed that winter had come in like a lion overnight and the air turned suddenly cold, a sign that Christmas was upon them.
Still, there was nothing short of an ice storm that could keep Isabella from joining her friends that morning. Now the three of them walked down Bond Street, with only a few patrons on the street at the early hour.
“Oh, look at that ribbon!” Lillian exclaimed, pointing to the display window. “I simply must purchase it.”
“Go on then,” James chuckled, pulling his coat tighter around him. “We shall wait for you.”
Isabella watched as her friend dashed inside, burrowing deeper into her wool coat. “Is she always this excited about everything?”
“She is,” James said solemnly, turning his blue eyes towards her. “Father always says that she is the light in our miserable family, and I find myself agreeing with him more and more.”
“I think she is quite charming,” Isabella sighed.
“What about me?”
She looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes stealing her breath away. “What?”
He took a step closer, the smell of his aftershave assaulting her senses. “Do you think I am charming, Lady Isabella?”
She breathed in his scent, wondering what it would feel like to have his affections. Life would be an interesting one, indeed, full of laughter.
“I apologize,” James said a moment later, blowing out a frozen breath. “I have overstepped my bounds and I apologize for it.”
Unable to resist, Isabella pulled out her hand and laid it on his coat sleeve, a soft smile on her face. “You are lovely, Lord Rearden.”
He looked at her before throwing his head back and laughing. “I confess, I have never been called lovely before, but coming from you, Lady Isabella, it feels like a compliment.” James looked back down at her, his eyes full of mirth. “And you are the loveliest of all.”
Isabella flushed, enjoying the kindness in James’ gaze. Would she ever see it in Lord Vistley? Would he ever laugh with her like this over trivial things that were only meant to warm the day? She knew so little about the man in an intimate sense that she did not know what he would do.
“I got it!” Lillian cried, dashing out of the store with her package held high. “I nearly had to push a woman out of the way in order to get it, but I succeeded.”
They all laughed and continued down the sidewalk, bypassing Gunter’s Ices and settling for a tearoom that served wonderful hot cocoa instead. “Ah,” Isabella said as she took a sip of the fragrant liquid, letting it warm her insides. “Nothing is better than a good cup of cocoa.”
“I would agree,” Lillian remarked, her hands wrapped around her warm cup. “I confess, dear brother, I do believe you are the only man in this tearoom.”
Isabella looked around and giggled as she saw the other women outwardly staring at the handsome gentleman in their midst. “Along with a great deal of admirers.”
James chuckled and gave the women a wave instead, sending them all in a titter. “I confess, I do not care for all these admirers.” His eyes found Isabella’s, and he gave her a soft smile. “Only one or two.”
Isabella flushed once more under his intense gaze, her heart aching at the thought of having to end her friendship with him. When Lord Vistley returned, and their marriage was official, it would not be appropriate to maintain a friendship with James. Her time spent with him and Lillian had been so enjoyable, and she did not want to let go.
H
opefully, Isabella thought, Lillian and I will remain dear friends.
“Tell me of this fiancé,” Lillian said after a moment, settling back in her chair, her cheeks reddened from the warmth of the room.
Isabella sighed, her mood souring. “He is an associate of my father’s. He is thirty years my senior.”
“I am sorry, Isabella,” Lillian murmured softly, reaching over to lightly touch her friend’s hand. “I will support you, of course. I hope that our friendship will only continue to grow.”
Isabella replied, returning Lillian’s smile with one of her own. “I confess, I thought I had experienced a relatively perfect first season, but I did not realize what I had been missing.”
“If only father had not sent us to France,” Lillian frowned, looking at her brother. “Then we could have met you much sooner.”
“Yes,” James echoed, his eyes on Isabella. “If only…”
Isabella cleared her throat as Lillian turned the conversation to her Christmas list, for which Isabella was grateful. She didn’t want to ruin the short time with the siblings by talking about what might have been.
The trio finished their cocoa and then walked back out into the cold, James hailing a hackney for the women so that they would not have to walk in the frigid weather.
“Are you not coming?” Lillian asked as he helped her up into the hackney.
James shook his head. “I have an engagement with Father.”
“I will see you at home, then, James,” she answered before disappearing inside.
Isabella allowed James to take her hand, surprised when he gripped it lightly, forcing her to look at him. “I see the concern in your eyes,” he said softly, his fingers lightly caressing hers through her gloves. “And I wish I could do something, anything to make you happy.”
Her breath caught as he leaned forward, brushing his lips over her cheek, sending goosebumps across her already chilled skin. “Do not give up so soon.”
“I will not,” she breathed as he urged her to walk up into the hackney. Isabella finally allowed herself to breathe as the hackney moved forward, seeing Lillian’s wide-eyed stare across the small space.
“Whatever is it?” Isabella asked.
“He is infatuated with you,” Lillian responded, the curve of her lips matching the warmth in her eyes. “Oh, Isabella, we must figure out something!”
Isabella did not respond, instead looking out of the window, the barest hint of James’ lips against her cheek now fading away.
Nothing could be done—nothing at all.
6
Isabella winced as she pricked her finger with her needle, immediately popping it into her mouth to stave the flow of blood that threatened to drop on the snow-white pillowcase. The pillowcase was to be part of her trousseau, to be used when she was married to the baron, and all she wanted to do was to throw the infernal thing in the fire.
The doors slid open and her mother came in, carrying the latest society pages in her grasp. “Isabella, you must see this,” she said, thrusting the paper toward her daughter.
Isabella took the pages, careful not to smudge the ink as she looked at the headlines.
‘Murder of a Marquess, Heir Charged!’ it read. Isabella’s own stomach dropped as she read the article, realizing that it discussed none others than James and his father.
Dead? Isabella thought aghast. James charged with murder? It can’t possibly be!
“The news is truly awful,” her mother mumbled as she clucked her tongue.
Isabella put the paper aside and stood, her mind frantic. “I must go to Lillian. She will need my support.”
Lady Gareden looked at her daughter, a frown marring her otherwise perfect features. “Do you think that is wise, Isabella?”
Isabella looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
Her mother swallowed, clasping her hands in front of her. “You are about to become a baroness. I do not think it is wise to have ties to a murderer.”
Isabella could not believe what her mother was suggesting. She had just found a friend in Lillian, and now she was expected to ignore her for propriety’s sake? “Then I shall be scandalous for assisting a friend in her greatest time of need.”
Her mother crossed the room and grasped her daughter’s hands. “Forgive me. You are correct. Your friend needs a comforting hand. Go to her.”
Isabella hugged her mother. “Thank you.”
Her mother patted her back and Isabella rushed out of the room, donning her warm coat and hat before dashing out into the cold weather. It took no time for her to reach the elegant townhouse, frowning as she saw the crowd gathered outside, gawking at the building like it was some kind of oddity. Unlike what Isabella had hoped, the papers were not wrong. Something terrible had happened.
Ignoring the stares and whispers, she climbed the steps, and as soon as the butler saw her, he admitted her into the warm interior immediately. “Lady Lillian is in the parlour,” he stated gravely. “Thank you for coming.”
Isabella inclined her head and walked to the parlour, sliding open the door. Lillian looked up, and Isabella’s heart broke at the sight of her friend’s tear-streaked face.
“Oh, Isabella!” she responded, hurrying to embrace her friend. “The worst thing has happened!”
“I am here,” Isabella stated, patting Lillian’s back lightly as her friend sobbed onto her shoulder. She could not even fathom the horror her friend had gone through, losing her father and her brother in the same breath. Where was James? How was he holding up? She refused to believe that he was a cold-blooded murderer. “Come, let us sit.”
She led Lillian over to the settee. Isabella immediately poured her friend some calming tea from the tray waiting on the table.
“I cannot believe this,” Lillian whispered after taking a fortifying sip of her tea. “There was so much blood and they…they did not even allow me to speak to James. He did not do this, Isabella!”
“I believe you,” Isabella said firmly, wrapping her arm around Lillian’s quaking shoulders. “We shall get to the bottom of this.”
Lillian wiped her eyes and looked at her friend. “I came home from the bookstore, you know the one on Bond Street that I absolutely adore, only to find James kneeling beside my father. He…he was…dead, and James was crying.”
“Was there no one else here?” Isabella asked, finding it odd that James would kill his father and then wait around to be found.
Lillian shook her head. “The servants were here, of course, but nobody saw anything. My brother could not be a murderer, he could not! The whole idea is preposterous!”
Isabella hugged Lillian, tears springing to her own eyes. With no witnesses, no one could protest James’ guilt. They needed to hear what had happened from James himself, so they could help him.
The door opened once more, and a tall gentleman walked in, his hat in his hands and a solemn look on his face. “Lady Lillian, my dear. I am so sorry.”
Lillian looked up and Isabella felt her shrink against the settee. “Mr. Tellsman,” she murmured.
The gentleman continued speaking, having not noticed Isabella next to Lillian. “I have come to offer my condolences and any help that you might need.”
Isabella felt Lillian shaking in her grasp and, after her friend did not utter another word, she spoke up. “Thank you, Mr. Tellsman. I am sure that Lady Lillian and Lord Rearden both appreciate your support.”
Mr. Tellsman frowned and turned to Isabella for the first time. He gave her a once over, and his frown became even deeper. “Who are you?”
“I am but a friend,” Isabella responded. “Just as you are.”
The gentleman gave her a narrowed gaze. “Lady Lillian’s father would want me to take care of her. He has said it himself numerous times.” The man looked at Lillian. “Has he not?”
“I wish for Isabella to remain,” Lillian said softly, turning her head away from the gentleman. “Thank you, Mr. Tellsman.”
Isabella watched as the gentlema
n’s jaw clenched before he placed his hat on his head, giving a sharp nod. “I will call on you tomorrow, then.”
Isabella waited until the man was gone before she turned to Lillian. “Who was that?”
Lillian sniffed. “He is my father’s associate. Father told me once that he wished for my hand in marriage, but I begged him not to allow it. He fancies himself some sort of dandy, and I do not enjoy being in his presence.”
Isabella nodded. That explained her friend’s almost fearful demeanor toward the man. “Well then, we will not allow him to bully you. Come, let us think of what we can do for James.”
7
The next morning, Isabella adjusted her stately wig, dressed as an old woman, as she climbed out of the hired coach, barely able to see her feet over the pillow that was acting as her midsection. “I feel ridiculous,” Lillian said as she exited the coach, dressed in a similar disguise, hefting her basket against her with a huff. “Why can we not just go in as ourselves?”
“Because they will not allow two young, unmarried women to visit a prison,” Isabella replied as she stared up at the formidable gates of Newgate Prison.
She had inquired about prison visits with three different servants the previous evening, and after a few uncomfortable stares, it had been Nelly, an upstairs maid, who had confirmed what she thought. They would have to become someone else to get into Newgate and visit James.
Isabella had come up with a plan, and based on the stares they had received on the ride over, their disguises were successful. “Come, we must not dally.”
Lillian hurried to catch up to her, and they walked together to the gatekeeper’s hut, Isabella rapping on the window with her cane. “Sir! Are you there?”
The guard exited the hut and eyed them both. “How may I be of service to you?”
Remembering her lines, Lillian lifted her covered basket, where piping hot scones were nestled in the cheesecloth. “We are two widows wishing to spread some Christmas cheer to you and your guards.”
“Well, that is kind you,” the guard said, eyeing the basket.
