Virtue and Vice (6 page)

Chapter 5

A sharp knock on the bedroom door awoke Izzy the next morning. When a quick glance to her side revealed Belinda still sound asleep, Izzy pulled a wrap about her shoulders and crept to the door.

Her mother stood on the other side, eyes wide with concern. “Oh, you must have been feeling truly dreadful, darling, you look awful. I’m sorry I didn’t check in on you, Bel didn’t indicate you were seriously ill.”

Izzy muttered up a prayer of thanks for the ill effects of over imbibing. Before she could protest, her mother felt her forehead, clucking over her like a hen. “Mama, I feel ever so much better today. And I wasn’t very sick at all.”

“Perhaps you should spend another day in bed for good measure. I’ll have a maid bring you something with which to break your fast.”

“Really, Mama, that isn’t necessary. I feel right as rain. In fact I think some fresh air might do me good.”

Mama looked skeptical, but her attention was drawn toward Belinda, stirring in her bed. She heaved a big sigh. “Soon, you’ll be married and gone and I won’t be able to come find you girls like this in the morning.”

Not any time soon, Mama
. 

As the thought went through her mind, guilt nagged at her. Her mother just wanted what was best for everyone and it wasn’t her fault she chose to support her husband in this. It was what a proper wife did. “I’ll be one property over, Mama, not across England.” She restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

Her mother stroked her hair. “I know. Still, it will not be the same as having you here, at home with me, though.”

Her mother would be so disappointed when it came to light what Izzy had done. Izzy ducked her head, overcome with guilt. But what other option did she have? She loved Paul and she would do whatever she had to do to make sure she became
his
wife.

An image of Julian rose up, so dark and virile. She pushed it down. Lust did not equate love, and she was sure part of her attraction to him was the illicitness of their acquaintance, however brief it would be.

She needed to ready herself if she was to meet him at their appointed time. With a quick kiss to her mother’s cheek and a mumble about getting dressed, she shut the door and retreated into her chamber. She found Belinda staring at her.

“Did you need something Bel?”

“You’re planning something. I’ve seen that look in your eyes enough times to know that much.”

Izzy bit her tongue to avoid sounding exasperated. “I’m
planning
to take a simple ride to clear my head. Ale leaves much to be desired.”

“Would you care for some company on your ride, then?”

Izzy struggled for calm, but obviously, Belinda’s suspicions were on high alert. The best friend in the world she might be, but she was as tenacious as a bulldog when it came to sniffing out Izzy’s schemes. More often than not, Bel would join her on whatever escapade Izzy hatched, but she’d never go along with this. One word to Belinda would find Izzy locked in this house by her parents until the wedding day. Flouncing back onto her bed, Izzy reached for her cousin’s hand. “Bel, you know I appreciate your support and concern. But truly, I need some time to myself, to think things through and resign myself to my future.”

Belinda snorted. “You’ve never
resigned
yourself to anything.”

“I’ve little choice, have I? This wedding will proceed as planned whether I approve or not. These are my last days of freedom, and though I love you dearly, I’d like some time to myself, to adjust to it all. I must grieve the loss of Paul in my own way.”

Belinda’s eyes softened with sympathy and she squeezed Izzy’s hand in return. “I know you love Paul, and giving him up is hard for you. Since the death of my mother you’ve accepted me as a true sister in your heart. If I could marry the Viscount in your place, I would, to save you this pain, but my pedigree is not lofty enough.”

If Belinda could do it, she would. Izzy’s throat clogged with tears at her cousin’s willing sacrifice. “Piffle.” She laughed off the awkward moment. “You’ve not the backbone to stand up to this viscount. He’ll no doubt be overbearing and haughty beyond measure. You’d be no match for him with your meek acceptance.
You’re
exactly the kind of woman he expects, and no roundhead deserves to get what he wants. They get what they deserve.”

Belinda’s eyes danced with laughter. “Meek, eh? I don’t recall being so meek when I climbed the wall with you to spy on Tyrone and his pretty barmaid. And what about that summer we dressed as lads to accompany the royal hunting party, though we’d been expressly forbidden to do so?”

Izzy laughed at the recollection. Nay, Belinda wasn’t meek so much as practical, and she was the best friend anyone could ask for, standing at her side when they’d been caught, refusing to let Izzy take the full blame, and had been punished right alongside her. But Belinda had more stringent moral limits and if she knew what Izzy still planned, she’d do everything in her power to stop it. “I misspoke. You’re not meek, just more accepting than I.”

“’Tis why I worry for you so.”

“Please don’t, Bel. I’ll be fine. I only need some time.”

Belinda studied her closely for a moment with pursed lips, then relaxed and nodded. “Go, then. Have a pleasant ride. I’ll see you when you return.”

Izzy pressed a kiss to her cousin’s cheek and launched out of bed, ambling to her wardrobe. What on Earth should she wear for an assignation of this sort? She didn’t have another peasant outfit. Perhaps her plainest gown? But even her most ordinary gown, though worn and faded, would identify her as an aristocrat.

Her eyes lit on the breeches buried at the bottom of the wardrobe, the same ones she’d worn when she and Belinda had infiltrated that hunting party. They’d been cast-offs from her brother Eric when he’d outgrown them. She’d worn them a few times since when she’d gone riding on her own, as they were more practical for riding than a gown.

Would Julian be repulsed?
Well, it was better than wearing a gown that shouted her true identity to the world. And more importantly, Belinda would think nothing amiss if she wore them. Bel certainly wouldn’t imagine Izzy was on her way to a clandestine meeting with a man while dressed like a boy!

She pulled the breeches on, then rummaged through the wardrobe until she found the plain linen shirt she sought, another cast-off from one of her brothers. Pulling on a pair of black riding boots, her ensemble was complete. Would Julian still be willing to make love to her the way she was dressed? She prayed so.

Going to the polished silver mirror, she brushed her hair out, plaiting it into one long, thick braid that hung down her back. How she wished she had the beautiful garland he’d bought her to wear, but it had been lost sometime during the long day. Sighing, she reached for a plain cap instead, since the one she’d worn yesterday had been lost as well. With a quick wave to Belinda, who was still abed, she sauntered out of her chamber.

***

Belinda lay in bed for another ten minutes to make sure Izzy had truly gone. No matter what her cousin said, Belinda knew her better than anyone else in the world. Izzy would never sit back with calm acceptance and let her father dictate her life. Not when she thought herself in love with Paul.

God, Paul
. Belinda shuddered at the mere thought of him. Belinda had been glad when she’d heard about the upcoming nuptials with the viscount, not because she wanted to see Izzy unhappy, but because she saw Paul for who he truly was, which was something Izzy never had been able to do. Her cousin was blind when it came to Paul- with good reason. The man was handsome as sin, with flaxen hair and piercing blue eyes. But he was a philanderer and had pursued nearly every woman at the royal court, as well as bedded most of the wives of the men he called friends. He’d once even tried to woo
her
, during a bout of sheer boredom, and she’d given him a blistering set down, which only seemed to make him more determined. Belinda had kept those advances to herself, all the time hoping Izzy would open her eyes and see the truth about him.

When Paul left for the West Indies to sail with the great Prince Rupert, her relief had been overwhelming. But she’d vowed if he returned for Izzy as he’d promised Belinda would break her silence and tell her cousin the truth.

Now she wouldn’t have to be the bearer of bad news. A selfish thought, aye, but one that brought great relief because not for one moment would she ever wish pain on her best friend. It troubled her that Izzy’s father had arranged a marriage against her will, but she also knew he was a fair man who loved his only daughter fiercely. He would never make a bad decision where Izzy was concerned, and if he had faith in this viscount, then so would Belinda. And Izzy would someday as well, once she resigned herself to her fate. Her cousin did all things with great gusto, and once this marriage was a fait acompli, she would throw herself into the role of wife and viscountess and eventual mother, as if she’d always wanted it.

When enough time had passed and Belinda knew Izzy had truly gone, she slid from the bed and retreated to her own chamber where she hurried to dress. She had recognized the look in her cousin’s eyes. Izzy was up to something likely to land her in a heap of trouble, something she particularly excelled at. It would be best to follow at a distance and keep a discreet eye on her.

***

Ram paced back and forth before the riverbank, anxiously awaiting Izzy’s arrival. Would she come? Aside from the brief disagreement with his father earlier, he’d thought of little else since he’d watched her walk away when he’d left her the night before. Just the thought of seeing her again lifted his flagging spirits almost the moment he’d stalked from his father’s study.

He hoped she didn’t feel poorly this morning from all the ale she’d consumed. Because even if she did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself. Should he whisk her off to Wadebridge and let a room at an inn for the day, or lay the blanket he’d brought with him on the ground right there beside the river?

God, what was wrong with him? He ran his fingers through his hair. This was ridiculous. He was supposed to be in Cornwall spying on his soon-to-be-bride, or even better, ferreting out any reason why she wouldn’t make a good bride. Yet he couldn’t take his thoughts off his mystery maiden long enough to concentrate on his betrothed.

Mercury nickered and Ram whirled about, knowing the sound heralded her arrival. His breath caught, and he almost choked.
Izzy?
Was she wearing
breeches?
He watched the vision before him as it grew nearer, breathing harder the closer she came. Those pert lips that haunted his dreams all evening long were quirked in a grin and wisps of chestnut curls escaped her loose braid. There was no denying it was Izzy; she was indeed dressed in breeches and a plain, billowy white shirt, but that garment couldn’t conceal the high curves of her breasts or the gentle flare of her hips. Dear God, she was of short stature, but the snug doeskin breeches encased legs that seemed to go on forever. His attention focused on the juncture of her thighs, visible though her shirt, which hung only to her hips. He swallowed hard.

Then he found himself frowning at her hair, braided and tucked under a cap. That wouldn’t do at all. She needed that glorious chestnut hair spilling all about her shoulders and down her back as she’d had it yesterday. He’d remedy that straight away.

He strode towards her with purpose, intending a greeting, but it died on his lips when he saw the hunger in her eyes. Instead, as soon as she was within reach he grasped her shoulders and hauled her against him, swooping down to capture her mouth with his. He tore the cap from her head and shook out the braid, letting her hair flow around them. Then he slipped his hands beneath the shirt and found her bare breasts. She gasped in pleasure, straining against him as if trying to get closer as he cupped them in his palms, feeling their weight in his hands. She was perfection. Yet hadn’t he known she would be?

Her hands clutched at his back, then slid around to his front to explore the planes of his chest as though she’d never before touched a man. He loved that he excited her as much as she did him. He tore his mouth from hers, gasping heavily. The riverbank it would be. “Wait here.”

She stood with glazed eyes as he turned to Mercury and grabbed the blanket draped over the horse’s rump, then shook it out, laying it upon the ground.

He knelt on the blanket and reached out a hand. She stepped to his side and took it without hesitation. He lowered her down to the ground, rolling his body over hers. Finally, he was where he most desired to be.

He studied her face in the light of day, obsessed with her all over again. She had the most adorable nose. Small, with a slight tip up at the end, it was irresistible. He feathered kisses over it before moving on to her cheeks, her forehead, and finally her lips. When their mouths met, it was like flame set to kindling. They exploded all over again, her mouth opening to accept his eagerly seeking tongue.

He wasted no time now. His hands lowered to the hem of her shirt, tugging upwards, lifting it slowly over her head, baring her to his gaze. He froze at the loveliness revealed before him. Her breasts were divine. Pale and uplifted, her nipples a dusty rose color, he watched in fascination as they came to attention only from the force of his stare. God, if she was so responsive to just a look, what would her response be when he buried his tongue between her legs?