19 An Assignation

I an waited in vain, for Kiltarlity merely shook his head. "It is a devilish business, Monty. What did Izzy say about it… when you first heard?"

"She screamed a lot… threw things." He smiled a little as he remembered. "But she would not come to town with me to get the special licence, and when I got back, she was gone, off on her travels. She is so angry with me… says it is all my fault for not checking the man's credentials."

"He was her family's chaplain," Kiltarlity said. "It is for them to check his credentials, I should have thought."

"So I would have thought, too. Kiltarlity…" Ian stopped, again quite unable to ask a direct question. He decided to skirt around the issue. "Have you seen much of Izzy, since she arrived at Lochmaben?"

He sighed. "She has called three times, once with the duchess, once with her mother and once by herself. Fortunately Mama and the girls were here then, or I should have refused her entry, of course. Monty, what does she want with me? Tell me plainly, my good fellow, I beg of you, for the ladies are inclined to be suspicious of her motives, and much as I would like to acquit her of anything… underhand, I cannot be certain."

So he did not know what she intended… that was a bad sign. Ian's spirits plummeted again. "I am sure you can work it out when I tell you that her previous stops on this little tour of the north were to see Davenport and Marsden. She quarrelled with Davenport and Marsden has secretly married his housekeeper, so—"

"The devil he has! The old rogue! And there he prances around town pretending to be an eligible bachelor and being pursued by charming young ladies wherever he goes."

"Quite so," Ian said with a rueful smile. "And then she comes here. You can see the pattern, I am sure."

Kiltarlity jumped up, pacing agitatedly across the room. "But…" He poured himself another, larger glass of claret and downed it in two gulps, then pulled a chair neared to Ian and sat down with a whump. "Tell me the worst, Monty. Does she see herself as free, now? Is she hoping I shall take one look and throw myself at her feet?"

"Shall you?"

"No!"

Thank God! Relief washed over Ian with such intensity he almost felt he could weep.

Kiltarlity went on, "You must not take this amiss, Monty, but she would not suit me at all, even if I were looking for a wife at the moment, which I am not. I should be, I suppose, but I am so overwhelmed with this whole business of being an earl and the head of the family… the responsibility, Monty! I cannot cope with it, and a wife, any wife, would just be a distraction. As for a wife like Izzy…! All this jauntering around by herself… and you have to jaunter around in her wake. It is… not helpful of her."

Now that he knew the situation, Ian was almost light-headed with joy, and answered him jovially. "Would you really prefer a meek wife who stays at home, and hangs on your every word? I should get tired of that very rapidly, I assure you. Being a dull man myself, it pleases me to have a wife who brings a sparkle into my dreary life."

Kiltarlity shook his head. "I do not mind the sparkle, for that was what drew me so powerfully in the first place, but she always seemed a trifle — unstable. I realised very quickly that she was not for me. I need stability in my life more than sparkle. It was an accident that I offered for her at all."

"An accident!"

"Well… I never intended to, but she had me so bewitched I hardly knew what I was doing. And then with four horses in the race, I wanted to put one over on you fellows and be the one who won the prize. But afterwards, when it was all over, I was horrified at how close I came to disaster. How could I possibly have afforded a woman like that? How could I ever keep her happy? How could she make me happy? I was so glad she chose you. I swore then never again to entangle myself with a woman like that."

"Like what?" Ian said, frowning as he looked for the insult.

"Beguiling. And seemingly innocent but all the time playing a man as if he were a fish on a line. Which we all were, I suppose. You, me, Davenport and Marsden. I made a pony out of you, anyway. I always thought you would win."

"Did you? I was never so confident. The only thing I had in my favour was the title."

"But I had nothing at all," Kiltarlity said. "No title and no prospect of it, or so it seemed then, no money and no style. I was always the hopeless case at the back of the field."

"But you had so much charm," Ian said. "And she was in love with you, which must have made her very torn. But in the end she wanted the title more than love."

"Was she?" he said in a small voice. "In love with me?"

"Oh, yes. Head over heels."

"Surely she never told you so."

Ian hesitated, but Kiltarlity was an old friend, and somehow he no longer cared what anyone thought. His long chase after Izzy had scoured him free of any lingering pretence. "She did. Whenever we quarrelled, she threw it in my face that she had always loved you and not me. And that Marsden was far richer than I was, and Davenport had the soul of a poet. Whereas I was born to be a grocer, she assured me, with my attention to the accounts."

"God, Monty! How awful! Tell me at least you called her a few choice names in return. No, of course you did not. You are far too gentle a soul to do such a thing. I should have given her an earful, I can tell you. Why on earth do you want her back?"

Ian laughed. "Because she is the most wonderful and amazing creature in the world, and she is my wife. The woman I love with every fibre of my being. Five years we have been married, and it is not enough, not nearly enough. I want to spend my whole life with her and the life beyond, too. I cannot give her up, but I need to stop her flitting about the country and face up to what has happened. I have a plan but… Kiltarlity, will you help me?"

"Like a shot. Just tell me what you want me to do, my friend."

***

T he note was delivered by the youngest Lochmaben footman, who could not have been much above fourteen, but well grown and very dignified. He chose a moment when callers were just leaving, so there was a general mêlée around the door and no one paying much attention to him.

"For you, my lady," he murmured, and pushed a paper, folded up small, into Izzy's hand, before moving swiftly away.

The folded edges were sharp, but she curled her fist around the little ball of paper, hiding it behind her back. As soon as opportunity offered, she made an excuse and left the room, racing up the stairs to her chamber, half thrilled at the subterfuge, but also half terrified. It must be from Robert, and if he should want her again… would she go with him? Would she marry him, despite the scandal that would undoubtedly explode around them? Could she simply walk away from Ian, Helena and Aurelia — leave them behind as if they never existed?

Reaching her room, she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it as she pulled out the paper and hastily unfolded it.

‘We must talk urgently. Meet me on the holly walk at two. R.O.'

Robert Osborn. It was him, then, and not using his title, but then he disliked his inheritance. He was unhappy with his present life, just as she was. There was nothing specific in the note of what he proposed but surely it must mean that he wanted her… what else could it be?

She had half an hour before the appointed time. Half an hour in which to decide what she wanted to do with her life. She had reached the end of her quest, a quest she had not realised she had embarked upon until she reached Scotland. She had thought she was running away, but it seemed that she was running towards something all the time. Not Godfrey Marsden, for she saw him now for the clutch-fisted man he was. She would have been desperately unhappy with so mean a man. And not Sydney Davenport, who had seemed so romantic and poetic a man, yet now he was happy to sink into dreary domesticity with whatever wife would bring him a field or two.

But Robert Osborn… surely that was where her future lay? Was it not opportune, that her marriage was shown to be a sham while he was as yet unwed, and now an earl? Wealth and charm and a title… everything she had ever wanted. And she loved him, did she not? She had loved him since she had first met him at that silly woman's rout — she could not recall her name. Benson or Belford or some such thing. She had thought it exciting then, newly arrived in town as she was, and especially so when the first person she saw was Robert. For weeks she had dreamt of him, quite sure that when he offered, she would accept him.

Yet by the time he spoke, she had three other offers dangling, all of them more eligible, and she knew beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt that she would not marry purely for love. Wealth and charm and a title… Ian had two of the three, and that was enough for her to decide her future.

But that was then, and now everything was different. She was not married to Ian, and Robert had wealth and charm and a title… so that settled it. Surely that settled it? Except that the charm seemed to have evaporated. This fidgety, indecisive man, so overwhelmed by his new responsibilities, was not the man she fell in love with. He was not appealing at all.

Whereas Ian… she could not reflect on Ian with anything less than deep gratitude. Such a lovely husband, the kindest, gentlest, most noble of men. He had not changed, as Godfrey, Sydney and Robert had changed, their youthful promise dwindling away to ordinariness. Ian had only improved over the years. He was not ordinary at all.

Crossing quickly to the chest of drawers, she rummaged amongst her stockings until she found what she was looking for — the framed miniature of Ian. She gazed at it now, wondering, as she had so often over the last five years, where he was and whether he was thinking of her, too. Was he still in pursuit of her, or had he gone home at last? Had he finally given up? Had she driven him away forever?

To her surprise, she found her eyes filling with tears — she who never cried! Her throat was unaccountably tight as she thought on this husband of hers… no, not her husband, she reminded herself fiercely. Not her husband… she was not Lady Farramont anymore. She was not even Lady Isabel Atherton. She was nobody…

And then she wept in good earnest, although for what she could not have said.

It was no use. How could she walk away from everything she had for an uncertain future? Not only her husband, but her children, her home… everything she now was. She was not a green girl any longer, dazzled by her first success in society. She was a married woman and a mother… she could not abandon her two sweet girls. She could not abandon Ian.

Her husband.

She no longer wanted to meet Robert. Perhaps she should ignore the note? But having effectively thrown herself at his head, she could hardly ignore his overtures now. Besides, he only said he wanted to talk urgently. That did not sound particularly lover-like. It may be that he had heard some news from home… Ian! Or the children! And it was almost two already!

Sudden fear sped her steps down the back stairs, hastily fastening her pelisse and bonnet. "I am going for a walk… tell Lady Rennington and her grace that I have gone out," she said to the footman guarding the side door. It was the same one who had brought her the note.

"Very good, my lady," he said, smirking knowingly as he held the door open for her.

She half ran down the drive, almost to the lodge at the western gate, then turned aside into the holly walk. It was a dark, dismal place to walk, in fact, the sun not penetrating the dense foliage, and previously she had only ever ridden here, for it was wide enough for two or three riders abreast. Now she hurried along, keen to know the worst.

Robert was standing just round the first corner, smiling at her. Smiling! It could not be anything terrible, then.

"What is it? What is so urgent?" she said, her breath heaving with the exertion.

"Nothing dire, I assure you. Forgive me for alarming you, but I had to be sure to see you alone, and it was the only way I could think of." He smiled more widely, but for once his charm failed to move her.

"You dragged me out here to no good purpose then?"

"Not that, I hope. Shall we walk, and I can explain?"

He held out his arm, and instinctively she settled her hand upon his sleeve. With another smile, he rested his gloved hand over hers, and began to move, so that she was carried along with him. She was still cross with him for making her think something was amiss, so she said nothing and allowed him to express his thoughts.

"I was very flattered that you sought me out, naturally," he began. "I am honoured to be your confidant, and shall always be your friend, I sincerely trust, but you must understand that there can never be anything more than friendship between us. Whatever my hopes and wishes might once have been, that time is gone. We can never relive the past, Izzy, however much we might want to. Things happen to us, our lives change and we are swept forwards, always. There is no going back. I know your situation is a difficult one, but it is for you and Farramont to devise a way forward. It has nothing to do with me. Our paths crossed briefly, five years ago, but you have a husband now, you have children who need you, and I have this wretched title and all the duties and responsibilities that go with it. So many estates to manage, and one of them needs me even now. I am on my way there this moment, and only came to say goodbye, Izzy."

It was no more than she thought herself, but it enraged her to hear it from him.

"You are abandoning me, are you?" she said. "A fine example of your friendship!"

They were still walking arm in arm, but angrily she tore her arm from his and strode on ahead of him.

"You have your family about you, so you have no need of me," he called from behind her. "Talk to your husband, Izzy. He is the proper person to discuss your troubles with. Between you, a resolution should be possible."

"Talk to him? Where is he, Robert? Nowhere to be seen! He has abandoned me, too. Everyone has abandoned me! Do you expect me to crawl home like a beaten dog and beg his forgiveness? And for what? I have done nothing wrong."

He made no answer, and she could no longer hear his footsteps behind her. Spinning round, the path was empty.

"Robert?"

She spun all the way round but the path was empty in both directions. There was deep silence for a long, bewildering moment, as disquiet slowly rose in Izzy. Somewhere not far away, a horse blew and stamped a foot. That was odd, for she was nowhere near the stables. Then silence again.

Anger boiled inside her. "Robert Osborn, come back this minute! This is not funny!"

Rustling sounded in the holly bushes bordering the path. At last! There he was!

But it was not Robert. Two men, hooded and cloaked, jumped out either side of her, and before she had time to do more than gasp in fear, a roughly woven bag was pulled over her head, and her arms were grabbed.

She screamed, of course, and fought desperately for her freedom and perhaps her life, for who knew what mischief they planned? It was no use. She was half carried and half dragged along the path, and then more hands lifted her and pushed her forwards so that she fell into what could only be a carriage of some sort. The door slammed, men shouted, and the carriage moved off, slowly at first and then rapidly gathering pace.