Chapter 5

Isabelle reread the note, feeling both better and worse. She reviewed her words, biting at her lip.

She couldn't outright say that Makem was a terrible man, but she'd implied a great sacrifice had been made and that if her parents cared for her, they'd see her sisters receive proper dowries with the funds from her wedding. She begged her mother and father to give her sisters her love.

She'd made a list too. Men who would consider marriage to either Kathryn or Anna. Good men who'd properly care for her sisters in Isabelle's absence.

Would they think she'd run away? She'd been tempted to say that she feared for her life, but if she said too much, her family might come looking for her. Did her father even know where to look?

Had he known where Makem planned to take his eldest daughter? Her father wasn't a bad man… just a desperate one.

And what if he confronted Makem? Was Makem powerful enough to hurt an earl? She ought not to care after what her parents had done to her. But somehow, she didn't wish to see her father confront Makem. He might very well lose when faced with a man who displayed so little character. Then again, he was the man who'd invited Makem into their family.

Maybe staying here was a chance to be out of both her parents and Makem's influence. A way to find her own path…

She reread her words, nipping at her lips. Had she said enough? Too much? Finally, she placed the quill in the inkwell. It would have to do because she was out of parchment. She dusted the paper just as the door to her little attic opened.

But it wasn't one set of heavy boots, it was multiple sets that clomped up the stairs.

Isabelle smoothed down her hair, knowing she'd yet to brush the tangled mess. At least she wore an actual dress.

Her captor appeared first, his scarred face a relief in this moment. Was she starting to feel safe with him?

Behind him came two of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. They weren't handsome like polished lords. The first, as tall and broad as her captor, had a devilish air about him that took her breath away. The second had a slimmer build but with a day's worth of growth on his face, and a twinkling in his eye, he was the most rakish man she'd ever seen. She dipped her chin, averting her gaze.

She clasped her skirts as she dipped into a curtsy.

"Lady Isabelle there is no need to pay any of us such deference," the first stranger said. "My name is Mr. Clayton Duke, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You can give me all the deference you wish." The second stranger winked. "Jack Wit, at your service." And he gave an elegant bow. The sort of bow that spoke of affluence and money.

Her head cocked to the side as she considered the juxtaposition of his name and the way he carried himself. "A pleasure to meet you both."

Her captor cleared his throat. "Bode Armstrong's my name."

She nodded in return as Bode crossed the room and glanced down at the note she'd been drafting. His eyes scanned over her words as he stood still next to her.

She twisted her hands together. "If I die, will one of you please tell them that I didn't just run away? I wouldn't want my sisters thinking I'd abandon them." She drew in a ragged breath. "I made the match with Makem to protect their futures."

Silence met her words.

All three men stared at her. Not knowing what else to say, she repeated. "Please."

Clayton Duke stared at Armstrong, who stood just next to her at the desk. "It's the least we can do," he finally answered, moving toward both of them, and then he carefully folded her note and slipped it into his pocket.

She nodded her appreciation. "I'll give my family's address to you so that the note may be delivered. I…" She took a breath to collect her thoughts. The tea and biscuit had done wonders to clear her head. She was not sorry to have missed her wedding night, she could honestly say that was true.

But she knew the position in which she now found herself. She was like a pawn in a game of chess, used to draw out the king and then easily discarded.

"I'll stay of my own free will because I think it's in my sisters' best interest to do so, but for no other reason." She looked at Bode Armstrong then. "And that does not diminish what you've done. Taking me like that."

For the briefest moment, she saw what she thought might be regret flick across his features before he carefully masked them again.

A throat cleared and she turned back to the other men. Mr. Duke had returned to Jack Wit's side. "Lady Isabelle." Mr. Duke issued a bow. "I can honestly say it's been a pleasure to meet you. Rest assured, I'll see that your family gets your letter, should the need arise."

"Thank you," she answered.

Jack stepped forward and executed another bow, this time, over her hand, as he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of them.

Armstrong touched her back, his fingers spreading out as he made a low rumbling noise deep in his throat.

Jack straightened, a devilish smile tugging at his mouth before he turned away.

Wordlessly, Armstrong left her side and all three men disappeared down the stairs again.

Picking up the brush, she began to work the bristles through her hair. There was little else to do besides wonder what was coming next. Not that she wanted to wish the time away. Nothing that was about to happen would be pleasant.

* * *

Bode had known Duke long enough to feel the tension vibrating through the other man. They hadn't even made it back to his office when Duke turned around, and slammed Bode up against the wall. "What were you thinking?"

Bode pushed back, hard. "What was I thinking? At first, I thought she was another harlot. And then when one of the other women told me Isabelle was his wife, I couldn't very well just return her, could I? This is a war. A war you started, if we're going to put fine points on things. But it's my job to finish it and I'm using one of the few tools that has been given to me since you tried to expand and pissed off Makem."

Duke shoved him again. "That's a good woman you're dragging into this."

"Makem dragged her into this. Not me. I neither married her nor did I match her with a filthy criminal."

Duke grunted in acknowledgment.

"How desperate was her father? And why did Makem want her? I'm assuming it's for influence but…"

Duke grunted again, his posture relaxing. "You're right. That would be valuable information for us and Isabelle. I'll investigate it."

Bode turned away, partly to hide his expression. Because much as he'd been right, Duke was right too.

Isabelle was strong, intelligent, loyal and she didn't deserve to be caught up in this situation. He hated that she was part of it. That protective instinct rose in him once again. She should be sheltered from harm, not thrust into the thick of it. "I'd leave her out of it if I could."

Duke shook his head. "Like I said, it's too late."

Bode turned back to him. "If I were to protect her instead of fighting Makem, what would I do?" He shouldn't even ask. The future of his business depended on Makem's fall. The safety of every other women in this house was at stake.

"Slip quietly from the city. Disappear." Duke scrubbed his face. "Don't use boats. With his smuggling operations, Makem has ships in every harbor. Lockton can tell you more about that. But you find a carriage and you leave."

Bode considered those words. They had merit.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" Bode asked, looking back at his friend.

"Going to slip away from London? Keep her safe?"

Bode fisted his hands against his thighs. "And leave a man like Makem on the streets?"

Duke stared at him. "He reminds you of your father."

His teeth ground together while thumping a fist against his thigh. "He is exactly like my father, which is why I ought to kill him. It's in the best interest of humanity."

"Except, if you don't succeed, then you risk letting Makem hurt Isabelle the way your father hurt your mother. Think on that."

Bode's head whipped back, the words hitting home, stealing the breath from his lungs.

"What did his father do to his mother?" Jack asked, looking between the two men.

Duke's mouth pinched, likely knowing he'd said too much. But Bode saw no reason to hide the truth. Not today of all days, because Duke was right. History could repeat itself. "Stabbed her in the gut and then cut up my face when I tried to stop him," Bode pointed at the scars. "Mean bastard when he drank."

Jack paled, for once looking deadly serious. "And I thought I had a shit father."

"Come on, Jack." Duke waved the other man forward. "We've got women to move and little time to do it. Lockton will be here soon." He turned back to Bode. "I encourage you to ask him for extra men if you're going ahead with your plan to bait Makem. But keep in mind, she takes one of the greatest risks in being here and she deserves our protection. That is what we've always done. Protect the women who are in the greatest danger."

Bode watched his friend leave, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He shook his head to clear them. Whatever he decided about Isabelle, he knew what he had to do first. Protect the other ladies in the house. His voice rang through the halls. "Meeting, ladies. Come one, come all. We're going on a trip!"

Bode looked back at his friends retreating, knowing that he ought to follow Isabelle's lead and share a few sentiments before it was too late. "Duke."

Duke turned back to him. "What?"

"Take care of Ophelia, would you, brother? She's a good woman. And take care of yourself too. You deserve to be happy." Bode needed his friend to know how much he appreciated their friendship. "And move Mama Rose to your cushy neighborhood. Stubborn woman doesn't know what's good for her."

Duke walked back to him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man too, Bode. Who deserves happiness." Duke leaned close. "Take care of Isabelle and yourself, brother. And don't mistake Makem for your father. You deserve a future, Bode. Killing Makem won't bring your mother back. And Isabelle needs you right now."

Bode drew in a long deep breath, standing taller, as he watched Duke walk away. But long after Duke had walked away, the other man's words echoed in Bode's head.