Mr. Chandler oozed charisma. A man with his voracious appetite would know how to please his wife. “The quiet ones are often the most surprising. You would be amazed how far a woman will go to protect what is hers.”
He raised a quizzical brow. “And how far would you go to protect what we have?”
In an instant, the air about them pulsed with a sensual intensity.
She smiled. It was a covert way of asking what he meant to her. “There is nothing I would not do for you.” She met his heated gaze, conveyed a lifetime’s worth of love.
He seemed pleased with her answer, yet she knew he all he wanted was to hear a more definitive declaration.
“Then know that I feel the same.” There was a moment of silence before Tristan rubbed his dimpled chin and said, “One thing does disturb me about the whole thing.”
“Are you still referring to the incident with Miss Smythe,” Isabella said with a mocking snigger, “or to the hauntings, the suspicious deaths or your mother’s plot to ruin our lives?”
“It all sounds so unbelievable when you say it like that. No, I was referring to the incident with Miss Smythe. When I found her near the fountain, her gown was torn at the shoulder. She said a gentleman accosted her.” He removed his hat, placed it on the seat next to him and scratched his head. “There is no doubt my mother played a part, but who ripped Miss Smythe’s gown?”
“Whoever he was, I suspect your mother paid him handsomely in return for his assistance.” Indeed, there were a handful of men who had gambled away their souls on the turn of a card. “With some persuasion, I am sure your mother will reveal his identity. And no doubt Mr. Chandler will have something to say about the matter.”
Tristan cradled his head in his hands. “Damn it all. I cannot help but feel responsible for what happened. What if it ends in disaster? Two lives ruined, and for what?”
It was not like him to have such a cynical approach.
“And what if it is the making of them,” she said with an air of confidence. “From your earlier account, they seemed perfectly content when you left the garden.” Yes, Mr. Chandler was reckless, but she was convinced Miss Smythe would prove to be a calming influence. “We will give them our support and help in any way we can.”
“We?” His eyes twinkled with the boyish charm she so loved. “Does that mean you intend to see more of me?”
His words roused various lascivious images. The sudden pulsing between her thighs made her shiver. “I should like to see a lot more of you,” she said, knowing he would hear the hitch of desire in her voice.
“That can easily be arranged.”
Isabella shook her head. “You really are incorrigible.”
“Isn’t that one of the things you love about me?”
“Perhaps.”
Tristan chuckled. “In my haste to tell you of Chandler’s predicament, I did not ask how you fared with Henry Fernall.”
Isabella tutted and waved her hand to show her frustration. “The gentleman is a selfish prig. He wanted me out of Highley Grange so he could use the house to entertain his mistress.”
Tristan’s expression darkened. “You do realise I could call him out for what he has done to you.”
Panic flared. “Oh, he is simply not worth bothering about.” Good Lord. She could not cope with the thought she might lose Tristan again. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash. One way or another bad fortune will find him.”
Tristan did not seem appeased. “At the very least I will have a few things to say on the matter, and I do not expect it to be pleasant.”
A warm feeling filled her chest. To feel cherished, loved and protected was all she had ever wanted. “Henry did say something of interest. It so happens that Mr. Blackwood has been acting rather strangely of late,” she said in a bid to distract his mind from thoughts of fights and duels. “He disappears for hours when he should be working.”
Tristan shrugged. “A man who would orchestrate the terrible things that happened to you undoubtedly has loose morals.”
“But Henry said Mr. Blackwood flits from place to place.”
“It is feasible that he would take a short term tenancy when in town or use a guest house. That way he is not liable for rent when staying at Highley Grange.”
Tristan’s points were logical. Yet she could not shake the feeling that Mr. Blackwood had something to hide. “When I questioned Henry about the missing items he denied any involvement.”
“Please tell me you did not expect him to confess.” Tristan snorted. “He would not want it known he had arranged for someone to steal items from his own home. People are suspicious by nature and would suspect fraudulent activity.”
“What need has Henry for a silver pin pot and candlestick? He could buy a hundred if he so wished.” Indeed, he had ample funds to purchase a house in Cambridge to entertain his mistress. Then again, her stepson was nothing if not frugal. “No. I am convinced Mr. Blackwood has stolen the items. Of course, Henry cannot say anything to him. Not unless he wants to risk others discovering the deplorable methods he used to get rid of me.”