Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Isabella found him on the balcony. He was clouded in cigar smoke as he leaned against the railing.

For a moment, she just looked at him. As long as he wasn't aware that she was there, it was peaceful. There was so much that she wanted to ask him, but that would have to wait.

For now, she needed to focus on what was important. Isabella needed to push her feelings aside and remember that there was a man's life at risk, and she had information that could potentially save him.

Everything else would have to wait.

"We need to talk," she said, announcing her arrival on the balcony.

He turned around and, for a moment, he seemed happy to see her. It set off a flutter in her heart. The moment he looked at her, it was as if her anger toward him drained from her.

"I've learned something important," she said. "I didn't mean to, and I think I might have been caught. You need to know about it, though."

She had hoped that he would be eager for it. Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"I thought I made it clear to you that you are no longer needed in this investigation," he said sternly.

"I haven't done anything on purpose," she argued. "I merely stumbled across this by accident."

"It isn't safe for a woman to be involved in things like this. You should understand that."

Mr. Alton was speaking over her, and it made her skin crawl with anger. She swallowed her anger down and clenched her jaw.

"I'm trying to help," she urged. "You really need to hear this."

"Enough." Mr. Alton was staring at her with so much frustration that she could feel it in the air around her. "I'm not arguing with you about this."

"Why have you changed your mind?" she snapped. "Why am I removed from this investigation? What has changed?"

She at least deserved an explanation. He had been the one to make the decision, so he was the one with the answers.

"I told you. It's not safe."

"That's not it," she said. "It's never been safe, and that hasn't stopped you before. You're the one who took me straight into the danger!"

"The way things are going now, you'll be in my way."

The words had shot out of him like rapid fire, and they pierced her right in the chest. She wasn't even angry at him anymore. Instead, she was disappointed in him.

"I was wrong about you," she said. "You are not the man I thought you were."

"Don't take it that way," he argued. "This is merely business."

Isabella held out her hand to stop him from speaking. "I don't want to hear any more from you. I'm just happy you've shown who you really are before I grew too attached."

He didn't deserve so much vulnerability from her, but she gave it to him anyway. She had to get it off her chest if she was going to move on.

She didn't want to hear what he had to say anymore. Isabella had tried to help him, and he had shot her down. So, she would keep her information to herself and if he was led astray by a decoy then so be it.

He had chosen to push her away and he would have to live with the consequences of that.

Isabella turned around and stormed away from him. With that, it felt as if she was leaving her only chance at adventure behind. As soon as she rejoined the party, she became increasingly aware of Lord Mortimer and Lady Arabella's eyes on her.

It felt as if the party was closing in on her. While she tried to mingle with others and act natural, it felt as though every time she turned around, one of them had her in their sights. She had to get out of there.

"I'm not well," she said, pulling her mother aside. "I must leave. I'll see you at home."

"Are you sure?" her mother asked. "The duke has been asking after you."

"Apologize on my behalf," Isabella asked. "I will make it up to him. I must get to bed."

Her mother looked at her and shook her head. "You do look a little pale."

That paleness was not from illness, it was from fear and stress. Isabella wasn't entirely sure what to do, and Mr. Alton was going to be of no help.

With that, Isabella and Eliza left the party as quietly as they could. Isabella didn't know what to do, and despite her desperation for it, sleep did not come easily to her that night.

***

Days passed, and Isabella's anger toward Mr. Alton had still not subsided. She could think of little else. The way he had spoken to her had made her feel so worthless.

Her appetite had still not returned, and her nights were still sleepless. Every time her parents announced a new visitor, she worried that it might be Lord Mortimer or Lady Arabella.

Isabella didn't know what she would do if she found herself in the same room as them again.

"Here's your tea, miss," Eliza said, placing a tray on the table. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," Isabella lied. She didn't want to admit what was wrong, and she wanted as little attention as possible.

"I have a new book for you," Eliza said with a smile. "I saw it while doing my shopping today and knew you'd want to read it."

Isabella took the book from her and looked it over. It was another adventure book, but this time it had no hero. It was about one woman's quest to save her family.

Without knowing it, Eliza had given Isabella the cure to her own tortured mind. Who was Mr. Alton to decide if Isabella was worthy of their adventure or not?

She was the only person who could decide that. And she had decided that she would take on the investigation on her own and take control of her own adventure.

That night, Isabella snuck out of the house after her family had gone to bed. She used the same alleyway behind the house that she'd taken with Mr. Alton.

Within minutes, she was outside the Rusty Dagger. Without Mr. Alton, it was entirely different. Eyes were on her as she entered, and she became increasingly aware of figures that seemed to lurk in the shadows of the inn.

She took a breath and dug for her confidence. If she could do it once, she could do it again. Isabella wanted to prove to herself that she could take on that adventure without Mr. Alton.

It was much later in the day than the last time she had been there, and the men around her had significantly more alcohol in their systems. They were rowdy and stumbled around.

One man even bumped into her as he headed for the door. She could smell the sweat and alcohol on him. She could not blend in there.

She was headed for the bar when a large man's eager face was suddenly in front of hers. He breathed heavily as his eyes glanced down the length of her body.

"What's a woman like you doing in here?" he asked with a greedy smile. "How much for the night?"

That was all that Isabella could take. She had no security. Nobody was there with her if she got into trouble. As fast as she could, she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

Some men were behind her when she left the inn. She was aware of their footsteps behind her, and their looming figures. Isabella needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

From down the street, she saw a carriage coming her way. Her arm outstretched, she tried to flag it down. For a moment, it looked as if it would slow. At the last second, though, it sped up again and passed her by.

"No," she whispered.

There was no time for her to slow down. Her back straight, she headed down the street on foot. It didn't matter how she did it, Isabella needed to get back to the safety of her own home.

All she could feel then was regret. So much regret that it made her feel heavy and each step toward safety was a labored one.

"Where do you think you're going?" a raspy voice spoke behind her.

Isabella ignored it and kept her pace, hoping that if she ignored him, he would leave her alone. That did not happen. A giant man stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

Within seconds, she was surrounded by men so enormous that anybody standing outside of their crowd would not see her drowning in the center of it.

"I'm trying to leave," Isabella said. "Please get out of my way."

She had hoped to sound more confident than she did but her voice cracked and gave away the fear in her.

"I have a message for you, miss," the man said.

She had to tilt her head to look up at him. He had a scar on his face, and when he crossed his hands in front of him, she saw that they were still scabbed from being recently bloodied.

Isabella swallowed hard.

"You have the wrong woman," she explained.

"No," he said. "I have the right woman. And I need to tell you that if you value your safety, you'll stay away from the Phoenix Society."

She felt her heart drop into the bottom of her shoes. Isabella was in more danger than she could possibly imagine. She was completely helpless.

"Now, I need your word that you're going to walk away from all this while you still can," the man said. "Unless you want to bump into me again."

Isabella opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Fear pounded through her body as her heart thumped in her chest. She searched for an opening in the crowd through which she could push and run away.

There was no such chance. She was completely trapped within them.

"You have my word," she said, but her words came out barely louder than a whisper.

"I beg your pardon?" the man said, stepping even closer.

He stared directly into Isabella's eyes, and she felt the world around her start to fade away. Her vision was becoming darker, and she worried that she would pass out.

Isabella was going to faint while in the most dangerous position she'd ever been in. She blinked a few times to keep the man in her focus. She hadn't heard the rapid footsteps approaching.

Just when she thought it was all over, the man in front of her went flying backward. His legs shot out from underneath him, and in his place, she saw the face of Mr. Alton.

Before Isabella could say a word, Mr. Alton reached forward and pulled her hand. He tossed a full glass of whiskey over her head, spreading it out so that it landed on the faces of the men who had her surrounded.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how he flicked a burning match to ignite the alcohol.

"Run!" he shouted over the chaos.

She did as he asked and she ran as quickly as she could. Behind them, the group of men cried out in anger and pain. He led her through alleyways and side streets until they came across his carriage.

Mr. Alton pulled the door open and helped her inside. The door was hardly closed before the carriage took off.

They were safe, and as Isabella slowly caught her breath and calmed her heart, she was left with only one question.

"Where did you come from?"