The Sweetest Revenge (27 page)

All that existed now was the fight: the rasping breaths of his opponent, the sweat trickling down his temple, the search for an opening, a place to make contact, a path to freedom.

Suddenly, a massive, meaty fist came at him from the left. Leo tried to dodge away, but the fist plunged into his stomach, the bigger man’s full weight and strength behind it.

Gasping, his body devoid of air, Leo reeled backward and crashed into the wall, the back of his head banging into the lowest curve of the ceiling.

With blurring vision, he glanced at his opponent. Hercules bent low to avoid hitting his head and took a step forward, his expression fierce. Another step and Leo would be trapped. Hercules’s massive leg rose and moved forward, as if in slow motion.

Leo dropped his head and ducked beneath Hercules’s raised arm. Then he spun around and attacked.

Punches flew now, his own punches, formidable punches which came from deep within him. The Frenchman grunted each time Leo’s fist slammed into his flesh. John had driven him to this. John had lied, had allowed him to turn to debauchery and vice just so Leo wouldn’t marry a commoner.

Leo imagined this was John, and that he was fighting him for seven lost years.

The big man’s knees weakened; his body sank to the floor.

And then Leo realized Hercules was down on hands and knees, gasping for breath, his head dropped between his shoulders.

Some instinctual response caused Leo to step back, to wait until his opponent stood once again. If he could.

Get him now!
a voice cried inside of him.
Shackle him to the wall!

He could not. It was against his code of honor to beat someone who was down.

Appalled by his own unwillingness to take advantage of his victory, he watched Hercules gather his strength.

Hercules looked up, and his sweaty face split into a grin. “Good work, monsieur,” he rasped. “Most excellent.”

He held up a hand.

Leo took it and pulled him to his feet, unable to return the Frenchman’s smile. He felt alive again, but no better. Pummeling the Frenchman wouldn’t bring Belle back to him.

Hercules clapped his shoulder. “You may dress yourself,” he wheezed. “The clothing is on the sofa. New tailcoat and greatcoat, but the waistcoat is yours.”

Leo shifted his gaze warily from the clothes to Hercules’s face. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

The giant lifted a shoulder. “Depends what you think.”

He almost couldn’t say it. He dashed a drop of sweat from the end of his nose. “They intend to release me?”

Hercules’s mouth twitched. “
Oui
, monsieur. I believe so.”

Leo bowed his head, his shoulders sagging with relief. They would not drive him to insanity down here after all. He would find her. Some way, somehow, he would make her forgive him, make her love him again.

***

She was not well. Isabelle leaned forward on her chair, clutching her stomach, her arms hidden by the mahogany table.

She had just told Anna and Susan the details of what had happened. Anna had hugged her and offered her congratulations. Susan was worried.

“Oh dear, Isabelle. I told you what signs to look for, when to pull away,” she said. “What if you are with child?”

Isabelle simply shrugged. It had been the last thing on her mind. It was too late for regrets.

She stared down at her breakfast, which she must eat if she did not want to raise further questions from her friends. The thought of eating nauseated her.

Anna raised her cup of chocolate to her lips. “You were perfect, Iz.”

Isabelle forced a smile. “Because I had a perfect teacher.” She glanced at Susan. “Correction. Perfect teachers.”

“And yet you are miserable,” Susan murmured.

Isabelle blinked and looked down at her plate, fighting welling tears. It was over. In two days, she’d leave London in a carriage bound for the Highlands.

“Don’t be sad,” Anna said.

Isabelle lifted her head. “I will be leaving you, and I…I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to return.”

She lied. That was part of it, yes, but the biggest part had to do with the look of shock on Leo’s face, the desperation and pain she’d seen there right before she’d walked out. She had been cold, callous, someone entirely apart from herself.

Worse, she had almost relished it.

I love you. I’ll find you. I’ll never let you go.

She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t count on those words. She’d believed similar words seven years ago, and he had never come. She would be foolish to think he would come this time.

He would hate her for what she had done. She hated herself.

Susan gazed at her, her face expressionless.

“But you will come to visit?” Anna said.

She gave the younger woman a doubtful look. “I am entirely at the mercy of my aunt and uncle. ’Twas only because of my Great-Aunt Mary’s endless cajoling that I was able to come this time. She had to come fetch me from the Highlands, at her age, and she is in poor health. I don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

“Well then,” Anna said. “I shall come fetch you myself.”

“That is very sweet, Anna.” Isabelle smiled gratefully but inwardly cringed at the thought of Anna face-to-face with her Uncle Ewan and Aunt Una.

Susan dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I know we’ve discussed this, Isabelle, but there is always the option of staying. Mr. Sutherland—”

“Nay, Susan,” she choked. “I cannot.”

Understanding dawned in Susan’s expression. “Good heavens. You
do
love Leo.”

Groaning, she dropped her face into her hands.

Susan didn’t speak. Anna didn’t move. Slowly, she raised her eyes. Both women stared at Isabelle across the table.

“Oh my,” Anna whispered. “You are wretched, Isabelle. You must be horribly, madly in love with him.”

Why must she love the man who had done so much damage to them all?

“I don’t wish to love him,” she whispered. “I wish I could love Mr. Sutherland. I really do.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Anna frowned. “If you love Leo, why did you walk away from him?”

Isabelle twisted her hands in her skirts. “Because I hate him, too. I hate him for what he became. I hate him for what he did to you both.” She dashed an errant tear from her face. “I’ll never forgive him.”

Their faces softened with pity. “You are the best friend in the world, Isabelle,” Anna said gravely. “I won’t forget it. Someday, I hope I may do something just as selfless for you.”

Selfless? No, everything she had done was selfish in the extreme. She had served her revenge coldly, and now she would suffer, just as the villainous Marquise de Merteuil from
Les Liaisons Dangereuses
had suffered in the end.

“You hate him,” Susan said, “but you still love him.”

“Aye.” She shook her head hopelessly. “Oh Lord, what am I going to do?”

***

Late in the morning, a blindfolded Leo sat in a carriage bumping down a cobbled road. Hercules sat beside him. They had driven for some time, turning corners seemingly at random. He supposed the strange route was meant to confuse him.

It had.

Now he knew why Hercules had chosen to fight him today. It was his last chance.

The carriage jolted to a halt, and Hercules pulled off the blindfold.

“You are free now, monsieur.
Bonne chance
.” He held out his hand; his face was as blank as could be. Leo wondered what thoughts rumbled through that gigantic skull.

He took Hercules’s hand, scrambling for the right words. This was a most awkward situation. “Thank you,” he muttered. “And…er…good luck to you, too. Ah, good luck with the lady.”

He opened the carriage door and stepped out into Hyde Park. Behind him, the door slammed shut, and the carriage lurched away. He turned in a slow circle. What now?

A man and a woman approached, talking, laughing. The man looked adoringly at the woman, undoubtedly his mistress or his wife, though one would seldom see a man looking upon his wife with such naked affection. The couple passed, neither sparing a glance for him.

He should go home, he supposed. Home was not too far from here.

Clouds obscured the morning sun, and a shadow passed over him. He shivered, clasped the new, ill-fitting greatcoat around him, and began walking.

He moved slowly. After ten days in the cellar, he relished the freedom of it, the simple ability to be able to go where he pleased. Despite the cold, he felt a brand-new appreciation for fresh air, for the sun and clouds, for strangers going about their business, for the ground beneath his feet, for walking.

As he walked, he thought about Belle. Someday they would stroll together, laughing and talking, like that couple in the park. Then, unlike today, the sun would shine warm and bright, and Belle would take off her bonnet and let the ribbons trail in her fingers. Just like she had so long ago as they walked along the banks of the loch.

He found himself at the steps of his town house and paused, wondering what he would tell everyone. He had been away, he would tell them. Visiting the ancestral pile in the Highlands, trying to keep the castle from falling into complete ruin.

The door opened as he approached, and he looked into his butler’s stoic face. “Welcome home, my lord,” Jenkins said blandly. “We’ve been expecting you. How was Scotland?”

He stared at his servant. Apparently he didn’t need to worry about giving excuses for his whereabouts for the past several days. Lady M had thought of everything.

***

Isabelle went for a walk with Phil Sutherland, but she hardly knew what to say to him. Not after everything that had happened between her and Leo.

“You are set to leave tomorrow?”

She turned away from him, studying the somber black-painted façades of the houses lining the west end of Berkeley square. “Aye.”

He took her hand, drawing her to a halt on the pavement, turning her to face him. An ass-drawn cart clattered by slowly, its drivers, two gangling lads, laughing over some joke.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said.

I don’t want to go.

“I must.”

He took both her hands in his own and squeezed them gently. “Isabelle, stay with me.”

She felt tight, constricted all over. She could hardly breathe, hardly speak. “You know I cannot.”

He dropped her hands and looked out over the street. “Am I that disagreeable to you?”

“Nay, it is not you. You are quite…agreeable.” She took a deep breath. “It is me, all me.” She reached out to take his hand again. “Please, let us not speak of it again.”

He nodded tersely.

“I should very much like to remain your friend, Phil. May I write to you?”

He visibly relaxed, turned to her, and smiled. But in his eyes, she saw hurt. “I will miss you when you are gone, Isabelle. I would love to receive letters from you. And I’d like to write to you as well. I can keep you informed of all the London gossip.”

He offered his arm, she took it, and they resumed walking up the square. “I would like that very much,” she told him softly.

***

On the morning of her departure to Scotland, Isabelle woke with a cramp and discovered that Leo had not given her a child after all. She clutched her knees and rocked in her bed, numb all over.

After breakfast, she had a few moments with Susan and Anna in the drawing room. They sat silently together. This was the last time they’d be together for a long time. Perhaps forever.

Isabelle finally broke the silence. “What if Leo finds me, and through me seeks his revenge upon the two of you? How can we stop him?”

Leo had told her he didn’t want revenge, but that was before the events of two nights ago. Things had changed.

Susan gave her a strange, undecipherable look. “That will not happen. You must understand something about men like Leo, Isabelle. He would never attempt to prosecute us. In order to do so, he would have to admit that he was bested and kept chained in a cellar by three members of the weaker sex. People would mock him. It would destroy his reputation. Trust me, dearest, if he comes after you, it will not be to get to us. His pride would never allow it.”

“What if you see him? In society?”

“I look forward to it,” Anna said. “I shall hang on Thomas’s arm and look down my nose at him.”

Isabelle frowned. “Wouldn’t he recognize your voice?”

Anna tossed her head. “I would not make a peep. Thomas will understand why I’d not deign to speak in his presence.”

“Imagine that,” Susan quipped. “A quiet Anna.”

“It would be a sight to behold.” Isabelle almost smiled. “I wish I could be there.”

But she wouldn’t.

Anna lunged out of her chair and knelt before her, grasping her hands. “Oh, Iz! We should not let you go! You will be miserable.”

Isabelle shook her head.

“She’s right, Isabelle,” Susan said. “You’re not happy in Scotland.”

“You haven’t any friends there, not like us,” Anna added.

“Stay with me, stay with us.”

“Nay, it is too late,” she told them, even as a tear crested and spilled down her cheek. “I belong in the Highlands.”

And how could she stay in London, knowing Leo resided in the same town? It would be torture.

They lapsed into silence once again.

An hour later, they went outside where the carriage stood, waiting to take her away. A hired female companion sat inside the carriage, provided by Great-Aunt Mary for safety and to preserve her nonexistent reputation for the duration of the trip. Isabelle, Susan, and Anna stood on the graveled drive, squeezing one another’s hands.

Anna sniffed. “Isabelle, you are going to make me cry. I
never
cry.”

“Oh, don’t,” Isabelle said. “Then I’ll cry again, too.”

“And I.” Susan shuddered. “Imagine it—three weeping, hysterical females on my front drive, in plain sight, for all the neighbors to see.”

Anna sniffed again. “It would ruin your standing as the most sensible female in London.”

One of the postilions coughed.