27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make".Euripides, MedeaIsabel opened her eyes to a room beset by dawn. A thick and pounding migraine assaulted her head, and she repented waking up. Memories of the night before crumpled her defenses, and she accepted her pain with a groan. She had hurt herself, and the fault was entirely hers. Hadn’t she known all her life that passion led to disgrace? To think she could have ruined her reputation for that… that—for once, she could not find an epithet to call Henrique. Still, a treacherous part of her, the one who mutinied every time he came near, couldn’t understand his betrayal. She rubbed her chest, trying to soothe the ache inside, telling herself it would soon fade.

If only she could believe in animal spirits as Henrique did. Why did women and men have to be so different? While men flew from attraction to attraction, never cooling their wings, women longed for the same love, their life’s purpose diminished by a quest from myth—a man who gave constancy as he gave passion.

Sophie flung the door open.

"Mon Dieu, Dolly isn’t here?"

"I’m certain she overcame her fears and decided to sleep alone."

"Her bed is made."

Isabel flinched. Sleeping after noon was Dolly’s motto, and she would rather make merry than her bed. "Are you sure she isn’t sleeping in her bedroom?"

The maid wrung her hands, her eyes downcast.

Isabel flung open the door to Dolly’s room. If the chamber’s stillness wasn’t telling enough, then the ominous envelope atop the counterpane became doom’s messenger.

With legs shaking and spirits sagging, Isabel opened the letter.

Your Highness,

You are right. I’m much more than an illustrious nose. I decided to follow my dreams.

I hope with all my heart you will understand.

With all my regard,

Dolly

Isabel lowered the sheet and stared into Dolly’s empty armoire. She had eloped. Lady Dolores had ruined herself. Her brain searched for guilty parties and latched onto the most obvious culprit—Henrique. Why had she allowed him to convince her? Charles Whitaker, a man in love? A reformed rake? Impossible. She should have sent Dolly to her father the moment Charles arrived here. But no, she had permitted their interactions, even allowed herself to be convinced of his feelings.

"Do you think she went far?" Sophie asked.

"I don’t know what they plan to do."

But Charles’ best friend must be privy to their direction.

Isabel marched out of her room. Outside Henrique’s door, Isabel paused.

She would not show him how his inconstancy had hurt. By God, she would not. She would ask for Charles’s whereabouts, nothing more. Girding herself against his caressing eyes, she knocked.

Diomedes opened the door, unleashing a racketing noise from inside. His blond hair was disheveled, and purple lines marred his fair skin.

When he saw her, his eyes widened. "Yes?"

"I want to speak with him. Now."

"A second, if you please. I’ll see if Viscount Penafiel is receiving." Diomedes closed the door in her face.

Isabel expelled air from her mouth. See if he was receiving? No one left a princess waiting. She tapped her foot, crossing her arms firmly in front of her chest.

Diomedes appeared again. "He asks your forgiveness, but he is otherwise occupied."

Isabel clamped her jaw so hard that her teeth hurt. "Tell him if he does not come here this instant, I will box his ears."

Diomedes gasped and vanished inside.

Isabel blew an impatient breath and glared at the closed door.

Diomedes returned. "He wants to know if you wish to offend him by telling him you want to box his ears."

"Offend? Of course not. I only wish to cause him unimaginable pain."

"If that is the case, then—"

Before he could shut her out, she barreled inside. Diomedes escaped the bedroom and her wrath, closing the door behind him.

Isabel inspected her surroundings and found her culprit at his worktable, in indecent shirtsleeves. Henrique had his back to her, pounding at something with a hammer, the sound of iron clubbing steel resounding like strident bells.

He glanced at her sideways and resumed the infernal noise. How dare he give her a cold shoulder? As if he were the injured party?

"I came to know the whereabouts of your acolyte," she said, raising her voice.

"I’m sorry, I can’t hear you." His shoulders bulged with the force of his rams. The shirt was glued to his shoulders and chest. Any moment now, his laborer appearance would revolt instead of fascinating her.

"Then stop bashing."

He increased the speed.

Gritting her teeth, Isabel placed herself in front of him.

His eyes flared, but he quit. The silence pounded, reverberating over the empty room.

His expression was serious, and the shadow of a beard gave him a piratical appearance. "If you came to play Venus to my Vulcan, you are too late. The shop’s closed for the day."

"Dolly eloped. She’s ruined herself, and all because of your friend and partner in crime."

Henrique’s eyes widened, and he rubbed his forehead. "But Charles’ intentions were honorable. He loves Dolly."

"And you believed him? You, above all else?" Isabel could not keep the accusation from her voice.

Henrique lifted his brows. "Perhaps if you didn’t hound the couple like Cerberus guarding the gates of hell, Charles would not have felt the need to flee."

Isabel stabbed his chest with her finger. "I forbid you to shove the blame on me. As we speak, your rakish friend has probably seduced Dolly, broken her heart, and left her alone to fend for herself. How do you think she will feel? Learning that after he gave her earthshaking pleasure, he returned to courting married women?" Her voice broke, and by the end of her rant, she was shaking.

"Isabel, are you all right?"

She placed her hands on her face, horrified to find her cheeks wet with tears.

He took her wrist and pulled her, trying to embrace her. After spending the night with her cousin, he wanted what? To amuse himself with her? A quick morning tryst to settle him for the afternoon?

"Don’t touch me! Never touch me again, " she shrieked.

He stepped back, raising his palms.

Isabel used his confusion to flee.

She hastened through empty corridors and out into the garden. Her corset constricted her breaths, and her feet weighted too much, the ground stalling her progress as if made of wet cement.

Midway to the lawn, she stumbled upon a male chest.

"What’s wrong?" Alfonso asked, holding her shoulders.

"He took her," Isabel babbled, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Alfonso rubbed her back and guided her to the kitchen. Among a crowd of ruffled servants, he brought her tea. Only when she regained her balance, he bade her speak. Sniffing, she told him about Dolly, who had a difficult childhood and finally found her confidence when a drunk libertine robbed her of a future.

"Do you think this sinverguënza is after Lady Dolores’s fortune?" Alfonso offered her his kerchief.

"Why, no… His father is wealthy and does not deny him anything." If the port trader had been less indulgent with Charles, he would have learned to respect propriety.

Alfonso frowned. "Is Lady Dolores’ family unwilling to give permission?"

So many questions. Isabel pressed her fist against her forehead and shook her head. "Not that I know of…"

"Then why would he elope with her?"

"Why? Why! To ruin her, of course. To take advantage of her innocence and then leave her to fend for herself."

Alfonso nodded, and if her outburst surprised him, he disguised it well.

"If you are sure about this, I will lead the search party myself."