Chapter 18

June 1st 1810

I can't escape her. She is hounding my every step. Cordelia Huntington and her father have developed a habit of appearing whenever I go to town. Whenever I attend any social function, they are there. I've seen many a woman watch me with interest and desire, but the way Cordelia eyes me, in a strangely possessive way like a cat eyeing a mouse, is unnerving.

The whispering has started. Witchcraft. There have been cattle dying in town with no visible cause. And birds. So many birds, their little hearts ripped from their chests as their bodies appear outside of doorways, like some portent of doom. My days are filled with handling the concerns of my people and reassuring them that we have no witches in our town, even though I am not entirely sure if that is true. There's only one thing I want. To be with Isabelle. I cannot find a moment alone with her, the woman I crave beyond reason.

Today, though, today I was lucky. Her father and mother joined me as I escorted her to see the ruins of Sandsfoot Castle, an old structure that dates back to Henry VIII. As long as the visitors stay safely away from the more dangerous parts of the shore, which could easily crumble, it is a safe spot for picnics and outings. I knew it was to be the perfect spot to propose to Isabelle.

As I waited outside Braxton's inn, I shifted restlessly in the seat of my carriage, my fingers curling around my mother's garnet ring, which was tucked safely in my waistcoat pocket. My footman appeared at the door, opening it and assisting the waiting guests inside. Mr. and Mrs. Braxton climbed in, taking the seats opposite me. The innkeeper and his wife were all smiles and warmth, something I liked immensely about them. They were genuine people and did not try to befriend me out of any desire to climb a social ladder.

Isabelle's face appeared as she peeked into the coach. Her beautiful eyes lit up when she saw me, and she smiled. My body burst into flames inside. She was so lovely, but it wasn't merely her looks which held me in rapture. It is her kindness, her intelligence, and the hint of passion she tries to hide each time upon our meeting. Last evening, we danced again, and my hand fit to her waist perfectly. A high color had blossomed in her cheeks, and I knew then that we would enjoy lovemaking. The night couldn't come soon enough. I wanted to please her, to give her so much, my life, my love, my soul, my passion. I wanted her to own me. A man shouldn't want to admit to such a desire, I know, but it's true. I wish for her to brand her name upon my heart and never leave me.

She slipped inside the coach and sat next to me before I could even get out and hand her in.

"Thank you for this lovely outing, my lord," Mr. Braxton said.

"You are most welcome," I answered, and I meant it.

The weather was perfect for the picnic. The attending footman saw to it the drinks and food were prepared and laid out on several blankets. The wicker baskets were overflowing with cold roast, boiled eggs, and shortbread. My footman, George, stood by ready to refill our glasses with lemonade or Madeira wine. Isabelle's parents occupied one blanket while Isabelle and I occupied the other.

As always, I engaged Mr. Braxton in a frank and intelligent discussion. Despite the other man's humble beginnings, he was well spoken and very bright. He was much the opposite of a man like Sir Huntington who did not care to know the most basic of intellectual subjects but instead preferred to bandy about names and titles of people whom he could curry favor with. The Braxtons were a far cry from that part of my life, and I relished any chance to escape such social engagements that would bring me into close quarters with the Huntingtons.

After we had finished eating, I politely got Mr. Braxton's attention.

"Could I be allowed to take Miss Braxton on a walk closer to the ruins?"

Isabelle sat up a little straighter on our blanket, her gaze darted between me and her father, the glimmer of hope barely concealed in her eyes. Did she know of my plan to propose? Surely not, I've kept the secret so guarded, she could not know.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Braxton replied, a soft and yet knowing glint in his eyes.

I offered Isabelle my hand and assisted her in standing. We strolled along the green path toward the cliffs, her arm tucked in mine. Another confession had to be made, and I feared weaker men would think it made me a fool. But the pleasure of having Isabelle's hand resting lightly upon my arm as we walked in amiable silence was one of the best moments of my life. When we were only a few yards away from the ruins, I stopped and clasped Isabelle's hands in mine.

For a few moments, she kept her gaze on the ruins. "It's peaceful here." She sighed and turned to look my way.

My heart pounded as I struggled to find the words I had rehearsed a dozen times this morning.

"Isabelle, we have only known each other a few weeks, but in that short time I have come to regard your company greatly." I swallowed, hoping to speak around the sudden knot in my throat. Sweat dewed on my forehead, and I prayed I could be strong enough to ask her. If she refused meI could not think of that. I decided I had to continue.

Something sad filled her eyes, darkening the gray luminescence to a shadow-stormy blue.

"I know what you must say," she interjected when I would have spoken. Her tone was gentle, and her eyes brimmed with a sadness I hoped never to see in her.

"You do?" Did she mean to reject me?

"Yes. You must, of course. We cannot go on as we are. It's better to end things."

"I must what?" I stumbled over her words. "End things?" I shook my head almost violently and raised her hands to my lips, feverishly kissing them. "No, no, that's not it at all, my love. I was going to propose to you. If you will let me."

I tried to tease her, but she stared at me in confusion.

"Propose? To me?" Her voice rose an octave. "But you must marry someone of your station. I am nobody. An innkeeper's daughter."

The scorn for her station was evident in every syllable. It pained me she thought so little of herself. I wished she saw herself the way I always had.

"I don't care, Isabelle. I want you. Would you prefer me to go to London and marry a simpering bore? Isabelle," I groaned in exasperation. "You!" I kissed her hands again. "You are the only woman I want and need. Please."

I dropped to one knee and retrieved the ring from my pocket and offered it to her. My heart thrashed against my ribs as I waited for her to react. "Pleaseplease do me the honor of being my wife."

She looked away from me, her eyes drinking in the castle ruins and the sea beyond before she returned her gaze to me. When she did, tears streaked down her face.

"Why do you weep, my heart?" I surged to my feet and wrapped my arms around her. Every time we touched, lightning seemed to strike my body and bind me tighter to her. She had to say yes, had to agree to end my torment. I kept the ring cupped in my palm.

"I'm overcome with happiness, my lord." Her words were breathless and hitched as though she fought off the urge to cry.

I stared at her, hope filling me with a secret warmth. "Does that mean you plan to accept my offer?"

I lifted the ring up, watching the way it reflected in her eyes like a shining star.

She held out her left hand. "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

I could barely breathe. My blood thudded in my ears like a stallion across the moors as I slid the garnet ring over Isabelle's finger.

"Oh, Richard, whatever shall we do? The gossips in town will never let us go through with this. We will be shunned."

"Shunned? No. We will not. I'm the earl. You will be my countess. The people can think what they will, but you will have the respect owed to you as my wife."

"I don't care about that." Isabelle's fingertips traced my jaw and my lips. "I only want you to be happy." It was true, every word. Only she mattered; only her joy and love meant anything to me.

I grinned, playful and excited. She was mine; we would be together and be happy.

"The only reason for living is to be with you. You make me happy." I lifted her chin and bent to kiss her. It was everything I had imagined it would be. She gave in to her own desire for me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, tugging me closer.

"We will be so happy, my love." It was our first kiss, but it would not be our last, not for many years yet, I hoped.