But his beautiful golden eyes, so close to hers when she opened them, were filled with concern. So strong and bright he burned, like the fire before her. She took his hand, clinging to his warmth as it burned through her benumbed senses.
"They stole my inheritance, Julian. My cousins." Her voice was flat. "I received the note from my parents' solicitor today. I had written him recently, asking about the state of my account. How much interest it had earned and such."
A harsh little laugh left her throat. "The solicitor wrote back that there was no longer any such account. He went on at some length about my 'extravagance,' how frivolous girls who spent their future on silk gowns and lavish decor got exactly as they deserved." She paused. "Silk gowns. Millie's gowns!"
Her tart chuckle deteriorated to bitter laughter. Izzy rocked back and forth on the bench, arms wrapped tightly about her midriff. Her trembling intensified.
Julian pulled her into his arms, moving to the bench and setting her in his lap. Rocking her slowly, he whispered helpless nonsense to her, oblivious to the fascinated staff.
As he smoothed her hair with gentle hands, a deep-burning wrath flared within him. She shook in his embrace like a leaf in the wind. His valiant little sprite had been nearly broken by this betrayal. As Izzy's trembling gradually stilled, his anger grew.
She had been robbed. Betrayed by the very people her parents had entrusted to care for her. He shook his head in disbelief at the bald, outright theft. Years had she labored for them and been given the barest of necessities for survival. And all the while, they had been using her inheritance to further their own social-climbing existence.
He wanted to tell her that she would not need her inheritance, that as his wife she would never lack. However, he knew she still clung to her dream of independence. She would not take well learning of his deception, learning that he had never intended to let her do aught but marry him.
For an instant, he felt an uncomfortable sense that his trickery and that of the Marchwells weren't so very different. He never intended to let her go, not because he loved her, but because she was the only avenue to his inheritance.
He squashed the ridiculous notion. His intentions would only better Izzy's circumstances. She would be the duchess of Dearingham someday, the envy of all the ton. The Marchwells had offered nothing and taken all.
Also, he knew it was not just the loss of her funds that was making Izzy unhappy. Somehow, through all these years of neglect and ill-use, the girl had clung to one last thread of connection to her parents—their bequest. Now, it was gone and she was truly alone in the world.
He could not stand to see her thus. When he had arrived, he had been relieved to find her unhurt. Now, he understood that she had been injured—deeply, almost more than any physical mishap might have caused. If only he could snap her out of it.
Where was her fire, her outrage? It seemed while Izzy was quick to defend others, she was not so for herself.
"Are you angry yet, my dear? Are you ready to tear strips from your cousins the way you did to my father?"
"Oh, no, Julian. I do not want to face them. I just want to leave here. Take me from this house, Julian,
now
."
"I will, my dear, I will. However, first I wish to speak to your family—"
"No! Not my family, never again!"
Julian was somewhat pleased to finally hear healthy passion in her tone. Nonetheless, he wished to face the Marchwells himself. He might not yet be the marquess, but he thought he might still hold some power to strike back at these miserable villains who were Izzy's cousins.
Brushing gently at her tearstained cheeks with his fingertips, he set Izzy on her feet, steadying her as she trembled.
"My dear, will you come with me, or must I face the lions on my own?" He almost hoped she would remain behind. She seemed so fragile in the wake of her betrayal. It seemed it would not take much more to crush her completely. Yet she straightened her shoulders and took a fractured breath.
"I suppose I should accompany you. It is my affair, after all."
He held out his hand to her. "Together then. Shall we?"
With a trembling Izzy nearly hidden behind him, Julian faced the Marchwells. Disgust roiled in him as he listened to their vile justifications.
"A young girl's finances are the business of her nearest male relative, Lord Blackworth. You are a bachelor. You have no idea what it costs to raise a child. To maintain a home for her. To provide her with an education."
Hildegard posed in a heavily scrolled chair that resembled a nightmarish throne. Her husband stood a little behind her, nodding vigorously to punctuate her every sentence.
"I shall thank you to remember, as well, that you were promised no marriage portion, nor has Izzy ever been promised a penny from us. You should have thought of her lack of dowry before you put yourself in a position to have to wed her."
Hildegard's eyes were slits of poorly concealed loathing. Her mouth twisted bitterly and her regal facade slipped a hair.
"Not that you need it," she spat. "Nor will Izzy need it. I fail to see why we are even being subjected to this insulting inquisition."
Julian knew Izzy had no legal recourse. What Hildegard said was unfortunately accurate. It had always seemed reasonable to him before, if he had ever really thought on it. Of course the men of a family had charge of a young woman's funds.
But the law assumed responsible care would be taken of the girl. He spared a moment to wonder how many found themselves at the mercy of wretches like the Marchwells. His lip curled in contempt, he regarded Izzy's cousins as if they had recently crawled from the ooze.
"You needn't worry, Mrs. Marchwell. It is evident it would do little good to sue for Izzy's inheritance. However, perhaps you should realize that there is more than one way to get back one's own in society." Julian said the last with an almost cheerful inflection, and took satisfaction in the look of alarm that crossed Hildegard's face.
He felt Izzy straighten from where she clung to him. She moved slowly to his side and stood, eyeing her family impassively.
"Hildegard, you seem to have forgotten that I have done the bookkeeping for this household for years," she said calmly.
Julian felt a wave of pride sweep him. His fiancée looked so fragile, facing down the belligerent Hildegard, and yet she was anything but.
Izzy raised cold, shrewd eyes to her cousin. "I know precisely how much it requires to raise a young girl in the manner in which you raised me. I know it takes a great deal less than twelve thousand pounds to buy two cheap dresses a year, to provide the merest sustenance, to house someone in an unhealed chamber.
"I know precisely how much this household has saved by using years of my unpaid labor for the housekeeping, tutoring, and gardening. Would you like to hear the total of what you owe me, Hildegard?" Izzy advanced on the suddenly mute woman, then stopped.
"No, it doesn't matter anymore. You'll never understand that I would have gladly shared anything I had, if only you had returned a morsel of affection. But it is only in you to use. It is simply too bad for me that I did not see it earlier.
"I am leaving this house. I do not know what the future holds, but I do know that you had best never look to me for aid of any kind. I am quit of you forever, Hildegard. Pray that you never cross my path again." Having said the last with such deadly intensity that even the hard-shelled Marchwells paled, Izzy turned precisely and strode from the room.
Deciding anything he might say would only detract from Izzy's grand exit, Julian only bowed mockingly and followed.
With the knowledge that Julian awaited her below, Izzy calmly gave instructions to a tearful Betty to pack her new wardrobe and send it on. She had no idea where she was to go, so she told the maid to have it all delivered to Julian's townhouse.
Icy numbness had returned after the confrontation with Hildegard. Now she merely felt compelled to leave, as quickly and irrevocably as possible. She had few possessions from her years here.
It struck her in a distant way that all she valued were the things Julian had given her, a tiny ivory fan from a stall at the Vauxhall Gardens; a dried bloom from a tussie-mussie he had laughingly purchased from a street vendor and presented with a gallant bow; ribbons from a favor she had received at one of the many social events he had escorted her to.
"Miss, will you be wantin' a maid with you, now? I'd like to come if you need me."
Betty's plaintive voice reached through Izzy's detachment and she looked at the tiny girl. Life as Hildegard's maid could not be easy. And if she was not mistaken, there was another reason.
"Are you terribly fond of Timothy, then? Is that why you want to go?"
"Yes, miss. And you, too. We all know what they did to you, miss. It weren't right. And if they'd do that to their own flesh and blood, well, the help is in for it, for sure. Ain't no one wants to stay now. Most will be puttin' the word out that they're thinking of makin' a change, even though Herself won't give anyone good character.
You
were always real kind to us, and I thought, if you did need a maid…"
Izzy shook her head. "I appreciate the thought, Betty, and it is a good idea. I simply do not know where I shall be going next. I could not even pay you."
Betty only looked at her uncomprehendingly. "Why, you'll marry his lordship, o' course. What else would you be doing?"
Perhaps she should accept Betty's offer. Julian would never let the girl go hungry, and she could likely find another position eventually. It did seem a shame to separate her from Timothy, seeing how close the two had seemingly become. Izzy had never thought much of the practice of refusing servants a personal life, having had her own freedom curtailed for so long.
"Very well, Betty, come along for the time being."
"She's right, you know."
Izzy looked up to see Millie standing stiffly just outside the open door, her face pale with uncertainty.
"It was wrong, what Mother did. It may be disloyal to say it, but it's true." Millie's pointed chin lifted a trifle, as if she expected rejection or rebuke. "I don't suppose you will believe me, but I never knew…" Her pale eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled childishly. "It was me. They took it for me. The dresses, and the gowns. All of it. But I never knew. Never."
Openly crying now, Millie looked for some sign of forgiveness from a stunned Izzy. When nothing was forth' coming, her narrow shoulders drooped and she turned to go.
"Wait. Millie, please wait." When the girl turned back to her, Izzy did her best to muster a smile. It was a sickly effort, but the blonde girl brightened all the same.
"I knew, I think. That you had nothing to do with it. Although we are not as close as we once were, I know you would never seek to harm me."
Millie breathed a trembling sigh of relief and nodded. "I wish you well, Izzy. And I wish…"
Looking down at her hands, Millie shrugged. "I wish we could talk now and then, you know, as we used to? I miss that, sometimes."
Izzy shook her head. Millie truly wasn't bad, she'd just been raised to be a bit shallow. "It may not be possible for a while, Millie. But if you ever need me, I shall be in town until the end of the season." The girl nodded eagerly and left, her narrow little world righted once again.
It was a small thing, but the mending of the breach with Millie did much to ease Izzy's heart. Leaving Betty to her work, Izzy made her way down to where Julian waited. Perhaps the touch of his hand would help to drive away the remains of her chill.
As Suzette writhed sinuously on the bed before him, Julian eyed her lush body entangled in the silk sheets.
"Won't you come to bed now, my lord? I've been waiting here, all warm and wet for you." A sly cat's grin stretched across her dark sensual features as she saw his arousal. Sitting up so the sheet arranged itself along with her waist-length black locks to artistically frame her full breasts, she beckoned to him, or rather to the vicinity of his loins.
He moved closer, saying nothing, as she reached out to fondle him through his trousers. It had been many weeks since he had visited Suzette, the lapse caused by all the preparations for Izzy's launch into society and the fortnight following.
He had told himself that he had a responsibility to accompany Izzy on her ventures into society. Now, however, Izzy had been sequestered in Celia's elegant townhouse, licking her wounds and trying to decide her future.
He'd still not told Izzy of his determination to see them well and truly married. It had been easy to convince himself that now was not the time, that the longer she had to experience the social whirl of the season, the more likely she would be to accept her fate as his wife.
The truth of his cowardice was what had brought him here tonight. Izzy's sadness and need had affected him far more than he could bear. He felt himself changing, and that was not what he wanted. He needed to remember the man he had been—the man whose heart was impenetrable, whose motives were perfect in their selfishness.
Julian wanted that man back.
As if she sensed his inattention, Suzette rose to her knees on the mattress, the sheet falling away to reveal her entire arsenal of charms. She twined her arms around his neck and slid her tongue between his lips without touching them with her own.
It was a carnal kiss, a blatantly sexual kiss, one that had always inflamed him.
Until now. Suddenly it seemed crude, almost animal. He withdrew from her mouth in aversion.
She slipped away from him, sliding across the sheets to the far side of the bed.
"Come, Julian."
He flinched. She had never called him anything but "my lord" or occasionally "my darling Eppie." Hearing Izzy's name for him from Suzette's painted lips seemed to soil it, somehow. As if Julian were a finer person than Eppie, more deserving of true affection, not bought company.