Once a Duchess(77)

 

Isabelle ordered tea for them, then went to Alexander’s room where the surgeon was attending him. She waited in the hall while the wound in Alex’s scalp was stitched closed.

 

After the surgeon spoke to her and departed, she went in to see Alex. A bandage wound around his head and he lay perfectly still. Isabelle’s eyes widened in alarm, but she reminded herself he’d had laudanum.

 

She remained at her brother’s bedside for several minutes. Too anxious about Naomi to maintain a vigil, Isabelle sent for a footman to sit with Alex and instructed the servant to alert her as soon as he was awake.

 

Isabelle’s imagination concocted every sort of evil scenario into which her loyal friend may have been tossed. She closed her eyes against the distressing thoughts and hissed.

 

A bustle of activity from the entrance hall alerted her to the return of the search parties’ representatives.

 

She rushed over to find two of the three men speaking with Grant. Marshall’s brother dropped his face into his hands. Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat.

 

“Has something — ” she started, too afraid of the possibilities to finish the question.

 

“No,” Grant said. “No news.”

 

Isabelle exhaled. She nodded weakly. No news was preferable to bad news, but it was still a blow.

 

A few minutes later, the third searcher returned from Marshall’s group. He shook his head. “Nothing.” Then he turned and strode back out to his waiting horse. The other two followed close on his heels.

 

Isabelle stood for a moment, staring blankly at the heavy wooden door after it closed behind the men.

 

“There’s no need for you to stay, you know.”

 

Isabelle slowly turned to face Grant. Though his coloring was lighter than Marshall’s, the lines of his face resembled his older brother. His gray eyes were like cold gunmetal.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“This is a family affair.” Grant’s lips pressed together in a hard line. “It would be best if you go now.”

 

She drew back. Even now, Marshall’s family still had the energy to act so spitefully toward her? “What have I ever done to you?” she asked, her quiet voice full of hurt and bewilderment.

 

Grant turned his head. “You didn’t see him after he found out about you and your friend. He lived in a bottle for a month. We were all afraid he was going to do himself harm, so I stayed with him until he snapped out of it.” He raised his brows. “Did you know that, Fairfax?” he asked, pointedly refusing her his family name, “Your infidelity nearly killed Marshall.”

 

Isabelle rubbed her tired eyes. She started to argue with him, but what was the point? Nothing she said or did would ever convince Grant or Caro that Isabelle was not the scheming adulteress they so wanted her to be.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally said. “And his divorce nearly killed me. But he and I have a chance to get past that now. I hope you will, as well. Either way, Marshall asked me to be here. You don’t have to like it, and you don’t have to like me, but I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Grant’s jaw tightened. Isabelle raised her nose a fraction of an inch and walked down the hall in even, gliding steps.

 

She found Marshall’s Aunt Janine in the library. The older lady was sitting in the same chair by the window where she’d been when Isabelle first met her. She held a book loosely in her hands. Isabelle noticed it was upside down. “Do you mind if I join you?”

 

Aunt Janine lifted her left hand. Near the base of her thumb, Isabelle saw a small red welt. “Look at that,” she said mournfully. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I ought not have left her. My father died of a bee sting, and I’ve been afraid ever since. But I shouldn’t have abandoned her.”

 

Isabelle gently laid the book in Lady Janine’s lap and took her hands. “No, my lady. Please don’t. If you’d stayed, you might have been attacked, as well. Don’t blame yourself, Lady Janine.”

 

She sniffed loudly, her chin all aquiver. “That’s Aunt Janine to you, missy,” she declared in a wounded tone. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

 

Isabelle smiled and nodded.

 

“If you don’t mind, dear,” the older woman said, “I think I’d prefer to be alone. But you will come the instant there is news?”

 

“Of course, my lady.”

 

Aunt Janine mumbled her thanks, then she lifted her book, still upside down, and gazed blankly at the pages.

 

The minutes passed in agonizing slowness. When the door opened, Isabelle sprinted to the front hall. Mr. Turner was among the three returning men this time. Neither he nor the others had found Naomi.