Molly had come in at the last, carrying a robe, and when Isabella spun around at the sound of her voice, it took her a moment to merge the apparent fantasy with stark reality. 'Thank you, but I'd prefer to be alone.'
'I thought as much, so I had our chef make you a tray you can enjoy by the fire later. I thought this would warm you after your bath,' she added, handing over a delicate cashmere robe.
'I appreciate your'-Isabella lifted her hand in a sweeping gesture-'kindness and-'
'You're welcome to change your mind at any time.' Molly recognized Isabella's hesitation.
'You're extremely benevolent.'
'Just sensible. My ladies are here by choice. I wouldn't have it any other way. Although many are here for reasons that bear a resemblance in one form or another to your situation. Their options, too, were limited; they often are for women in this man's world.' Her voice took on an amiable briskness. 'Now, make yourself as comfortable as you may tonight, and we'll talk some more in the morning. Nothing is cast in stone. Perhaps you'll think of someone who will serve as advocate for you, and all your despicable relatives can go hang themselves,' she finished with a smile.
'Wouldn't that be wonderful,' Isabella replied, buoyed by her benefactor's optimism. 'I shall rack my brain tonight.'
'Don't forget to eat, now. Guillaume pouts when his food comes back to the kitchen untasted.'
'You needn't worry on that count.' Isabella's smile held a genuine warmth, her mood much improved by Mrs. Crocker's candor. 'I'm famished.'
'I'll see you at breakfast, then.'
The door softly closed a moment later, and Isabella found herself alone.
In London's finest brothel.
And if someone would have told her a day before that she would be so placed tonight, she would have thought them mad.
As Mrs. Crocker noted, she still had time to consider alternatives. But the savory aroma of her supper was causing her to salivate, and even if she hadn't been damp and dirty from her flight through the rain, the hot, scented bath would have been potent lure. She had the entire night to consider solutions to her dilemma. Just then both her supper and bath were getting cold.
Short moments later, she was seated in the luxurious warmth of the bath, the supper tray balanced on the rim of the tub, her mouth full of dover sole that was as near to heaven as culinary art allowed. Guillaume needn't worry about his food coming back untasted. She intended to eat every morsel and perhaps lick the plate as well. She'd eaten very little in the days past with her grandfather's life slipping away, and for the first time she'd become aware of her hunger.
Not until the last fragment of the lemon genoise was gone did she look up with a satisfied sigh and set the tray on the floor. A half bottle of very good champagne had come with the meal, and whether it was the food or wine or the soothing warmth of the bath, she felt lulled and appeased.
After a time, she dried herself, and wrapping the luxurious white cashmere robe around her, rested on a chaise conveniently placed near the fire. Her grandfather's long illness had taken its toll on her stamina. She'd not slept through the night for almost a month. And within minutes, she'd fallen asleep.
Molly quietly came in to check on her some hours later and covered Isabella with a blanket where she lay. The firelight gilded her pale skin and golden hair, the white robe clothed her in softness, the picture of innocence so breathtaking, even Greuze couldn't have improved on it.
Chapter Three
THE SUN WAS SHINING brightly through the lace-and-muslin curtains when Isabella woke with a start.
Her grandfather's funeral!
She sat bolt upright, threw off the blanket, and leaped to her feet. Running to the bellpull, she yanked on it and then nervously paced until a servant responded.
'I must see Mrs. Crocker at once. Which room is hers?'
Agitation rang through her voice, and the maid, wide-eyed and nervous, pointed through the open portal across the sitting room toward a closed door. 'She be havin' breakfast, miss.'
'Thank you,' Isabella briskly replied, already moving in the indicated direction. Reaching the door, she knocked firmly and without waiting for an answer, turned the latch and walked into the room.
She came to an abrupt standstill and flushed to a bright shade of pink. A shockingly handsome man, barefoot and shirtless, was seated across from Mrs. Crocker, having breakfast.
Good God, Dermott thought, his gaze on the woman he'd glimpsed the previous night. She was even more beautiful at close range. And barely clothed, he pleasantly noted. His body instantly responded to the opulent vision, the lady's sumptuous breasts, narrow waist, the soft curve of her hips, and slender legs conspicuous beneath the fragile fabric of her robe.
'Come in, my dear,' Molly invited Isabella. 'Join us for breakfast.'
'No thank you-that is-I need'-she tried not to look at his half-naked body-'I mean, I'd like to talk to you immediately.'
'Let me excuse myself.' Dermott began to rise.
'No need.' Molly waved him back down. 'I'll come to your room,' she said, smiling at Isabella, who had taken startling note of the muscles rippling across the man's shoulders when he moved. Coming to her feet, Mrs. Crocker spoke to her companion affectionately. 'You eat. I know how you need food in the morning.' With a smile for the earl, she ushered Isabella out of the room, followed her into her bedchamber, and shut the door. 'Now, tell me what I can do for you.'
The few moments it had taken to reach her room had given Isabella time to compose herself-Mrs. Crocker's breakfast companion had nothing to do with her. 'I came to tell you I
'It's completely understandable with your life in jeopardy. Surely you're not thinking of attending his funeral?' Mrs. Crocker quickly interjected. 'You'd be whisked away and married off, with certainty.'
'I know.' Isabella's nervousness was apparent. 'But I must see that the arrangements are
'Once the danger is past, you can pay your respects. If anyone would allow you that latitude, I'm sure your grandfather would. Let me send a servant to Mr. Lampert with a note from you.'
'Anonymously,' Isabella's said, her trepidation plain.
'Of course.'
'I'm sorry.' She looked embarrassed. 'How rude of me after all you've done.'
'No need to apologize, my dear. I well understand society's strictures. Mr. Lampert will be contacted with the utmost discretion. Now, write your instructions to him while I see that some breakfast is brought up for you. Or, if you wish, you're more than welcome to join Bathurst and me.'
Isabella colored. 'I couldn't.'
'Then one of the maids will bring your breakfast to you here,' Molly affably replied. 'And whenever your letter is ready, I'll see that it's sent. With luck,' she cordially added, 'you'll be delivered from your relatives' malice in short order.'
'I pray you're right, Mrs. Crocker.' Heartfelt emotion accompanied the simple phrase.
'Where did she come from?' Dermott's query greeted Molly's return.
'I'm not sure. Pursued and terrified, she stumbled on us by accident last night. Apparently, she was being forced into a repugnant marriage.' Molly took her seat at the table.
'That takes a certain boldness. To run into the night.'
'Or rank terror. She's quite without connections, and those she has are after her fortune.' Molly poured herself a fresh cup of tea.
