It was one thing to learn of his heartless betrayal, quite another to see the woman who had claimed his heart and his protection, in the flesh.
Thoughtfully pondering the ramifications of her flight, Isobel resolutely trudged onwards along the daring new path her life had taken.
CHAPTER TWO
Two Months Later
Leicestershire
“We will have revenge,” Dominic declared softly, staring sightlessly down at the rectangle of recently dug earth before them, his heart a leaden weight within his chest. The earth had been dug only a few weeks before, yet weeds and grass had already nearly covered the soil. “He will pay for what he has done.” He shot his friend a darkly menacing look.
Raw pain lanced through him as he watched Peter rhythmically tug at the myriad of weeds, slowly twisting their mangled path around the simple wooden cross marking her final resting place. Isobel. Peter’s sister, and the woman Dominic wanted as his wife. He adored her.
Dominic settled down onto the wet grass beside the grave, oblivious to the increasing wind and driving rain, and allowed himself to think back to their time together.
Peter had introduced them several months earlier, when Dominic had finally been in a position to accept his friend’s invitation to visit. Having met fighting the French on the horrific battlefields, Dominic had quickly found a friend in Peter, and had listened to his frequent reminiscences of Isobel’s exploits. It had been an attempt by both men to briefly escape the death and destruction surrounding them. The mental image he had built up of his stalwart friend’s intriguing sibling had tempted and teased Dominic, haunting his dreams to such an extent that despite his battle-hardened cynicism, he found himself almost eager to make her acquaintance upon their return to England.
Unfortunately, his visit to Willowbrook, her home, had been delayed by the demise of his uncle, who had bequeathed Dominic his somewhat failing estates. They had taken considerable time to resolve sufficiently to allow Dominic the time to take an extended visit to Oxfordshire. In the intervening time since his return from the war, Dominic’s family had frequently hinted that they expected him to find himself a suitable wife and establish his nursery without delay.
When he was eventually able to accept Peter’s invitation, he was stunned to discover Peter hadn’t done his sister any justice at all. He hadn’t described her rosebud lips, the teasing glint in her periwinkle blue eyes, or the delicate curls in the luxurious mass of jet-black hair she usually tried, and failed, to keep confined in a bun at the nape of her slender neck. Her gentle, somewhat eccentric nature and infinitesimal charm made her without doubt, the most captivating woman Dominic had met for some considerable time. Her slightly wilful nature had intrigued rather than offended him, until he found it increasingly difficult to be parted from her for any length of time.
Thankfully, her brother Peter hadn’t been averse to Dominic’s interest in his sister and although not outwardly encouraging a union, had ensured the couple had been allowed sufficient time alone together to get to know each other. Dominic had remained at Willowbrook with Peter and Isobel for several weeks, before the pressing need to return to his own estate in Melton had driven him to take his leave. It had been somewhat surprising to him to discover how much of a wrench it was to leave her behind. It had been even more of a shock to learn how miserable he was without her sunny smiles and gentle humour to brighten his day. Once at Melton, he had held out for as long as possible before he had sought an excuse to make a return journey to see her.
Over the course of several months, Dominic had visited Willowbrook, and Isobel numerous times with an eagerness that had grown rather than diminished. When the occasion didn’t warrant a visit to Willowbrook, Dominic had sought excuses to visit his uncle who resided a few miles away. Luckily this put him in the same locale as Isobel, and meant that he could afford her the time she needed to get to know him, and become accustomed to their growing relationship, hopefully without the need for him to throw himself upon his knees at her feet to beg for her hand.
If only he had known then what he knew now. He should have thrown himself upon his knees and begged for her mercy at the first opportunity. He should have sought her acceptance of his proposal before leaving her for Norfolk. Instead of following the dictates of his mission for the Prince Regent, he should have waited even a couple of days and rushed through a hasty marriage before leaving her within the safe confines of Havistock Hall under the protection of his staff. If he had, she would most certainly be alive now, and would not have spent the last weeks of her life at the hands of her merciless, despot uncle.
In a cruel twist of irony, the certain knowledge that if they had only been a few weeks earlier, she would have been alive, lay like a heavy weight in his heart. She would not have been driven to run for her life, into the darkness of the night, to face God knows what.
As he sat helplessly beside the grave of the woman who owned his soul, Dominic cursed fate and Rupert Davenport for the cruel grief they had played upon him.
“You have to get on with your life Dominic,” Peter muttered, swiping at the mixture of tears and raindrops upon his own face. “You cannot allow this to make you bitter.”
Dominic looked askance at his friend, and shook his head regretfully.
“My life now, such as it is, is with her,” he nodded towar
ds the darkened earth at his feet. “Rupert cannot and will not get away with this. Not while I have breath in my body Peter. I have to have vengeance.”
Grief settled its deathly cloak around his shoulders as he stood beside the simple grave in the quiet of the rural graveyard. Silence settled between them, Dominic’s tears mingling with the gentle pattering of icy raindrops as he gave in to the bleakest emotions of bitterness and regret he had ever experienced in his life. Devastation threatened to suck him under.
Struggling to draw a breath against the tightening around his heart, he longed to roar out his denial of losing her.
“I should never have left her the way I did,” Dominic bit out, tilting his head back to look at the darkened clouds ahead. The swirling myriad of cold greys matched the icy bleakness in his heart. He was vaguely aware of Peter rising to his feet to stand beside him.
They were almost equal in height as they stood shoulder to shoulder beside the newly dug earth for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Do you know where he has gone?” Dominic asked, his voice shaking with barely concealed emotion.
“No, but we will find out,” Peter replied softly, lost in his own quiet contemplation.
“She needs a proper gravestone,” Dominic dropped to one knee, and slowly trailed a gentle finger around one arm of the roughly carved cross. “Why did they bury her so quickly?”
“I don’t know, but I have sent word to the Magistrate to meet us here. I want answers. She cannot stay in such a desolate place. This isn’t where she belongs. She needs to go back to Willowbrook Hall, and be interred in the family crypt with Father and Mother,” Peter replied, staring sightlessly at the ground at his feet.
As soon as events in Norfolk had been tied up and both men free to leave, they had immediately set out for Willowbrook, only to find Elspeth in great distress and the house staff in terrified confusion. Some weeks earlier, Isobel had been removed from their aunt’s care by her Uncle Rupert, who had claimed the guardianship by issuing threats and insults. Aunt Elspeth hadn’t been certain about their destination, but had been subjected to having her objections soundly squashed by a condescending Rupert, who had threatened her with outright violence should she take steps to block Isobel’s removal from the house.
The last Elspeth had seen of Isobel had been a brief tearful good-bye before Isobel had been bundled into an unmarked carriage and quickly driven off. Nobody has heard anything from her since then. Elspeth’s clear distress had been heightened by the arrival of Peter, whom Elspeth had believed to have been murdered by the lawless smugglers he had gone to help capture. Shock had quickly turned to outrage at Rupert’s callous duplicity, and the weight of lies he had clearly told everyone to secure her compliance in her own kidnap.