Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor by Regina Jeffers

Author:Regina Jeffers [Jeffers, Regina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: White Soup Press
Published: 2014-03-06T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

She had repaired the tat where the material had torn in one of the gowns presented to her by Lady Lowery. It was a beautiful royal blue confection, and Isolde had been anxious to wear it. Her cousins would think she had taken on airs, but she would enjoy their jealousy. It was like no gown she had ever thought to wear for she was essentially of a very practical nature. In truth, she would prefer to wear it for Lord Swenton’s eyes only, but those dreams would never know fruition. Tomorrow, the baron meant to remove his household to York, and soon after, Isolde would depart for Ireland. She would never return to England, and most certainly would never see London again. She would accept the intentions of one of her countrymen, marry, and bear the man a half dozen children. Yet, she would always remember her time with Lord Swenton. “Your days are numbered,” she warned her foolish heart. “No dancing a jig in celebration of your marriage. No wearing a gown which would set His Lordship’s heart a reeling.” A wistful sigh escaped before Isolde could swallow it. “Best to wear the drab cloths of a lady’s companion,” she chastised her whims. “It is my armor against temptation.”

The sound of a ruckus below interrupted her thoughts. She rushed from her rooms to encounter the man over whom she had spent too many hours in daydreams. Lord Swenton carried his wife towards the lady’s quarters. Lady Swenton’s limp form announced the baroness had discovered a new supply of laudanum.

“My Goodness!” she rasped and then raced ahead of the baron to open the connecting doors. She jerked the counterpane free of the bed to permit him to deposit Lady Swenton upon the mattress. “What happened?” Isolde asked as she undressed her mistress.

“Did you know?” the baron asked in accusatory tones. He stood beside his wife’s bed, his hands fisting and unfisting, arms akimbo.

Isolde’s fingers released the clasp of the baroness’s necklace and turned her mistress to her stomach so she could unlace Lady Swenton’s gown. Out of breath, she asked testily, “Did I know what?”

Lord Swenton’s voice had turned cold. “When you convinced me to escort my mother’s remains to York, did you know Lady Swenton meant to remain in London to meet her lover? Or was it your purpose for me to encounter Prince Henrí tonight? You did say this evening would be a monumental event.”

Isolde’s fingers froze in their task. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Her hands wildly brushed away his allegations. “I have been nothing but loyal to you. Other than Lord Morse, I am ignorant of a potential lover, and I have never heard of Prince Henrí.”

“What of a heated spat between your mistress and Lady Fiona?” he accused.

“Nothing!” Isolde said defiantly. “When I came to Miss Aldridge’s service, the baroness was some four months with child. She withdrew from her social engagements shortly after my taking the position. I never held the pleasure of an acquaintance with the former baroness.

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