A week later Dermott walked into Molly's parlor in St. James's Place.
"Rumor had it you were dead," she said, her expression reserved.
"And so I nearly was, Shelby tells me."
"But with no black crepe on Bathurst House," she coolly remarked, "I began to suspect you'd survived." She didn't offer him a chair.
He took note and remained near the door. "I know you're angry about Isabella."
Her gaze narrowed faintly. "Very perceptive for a man who's considered only himself these last many years."
"I've come to make amends."
"To me?" Her brows lifted. "Don't bother."
"To both of you. But I can't find Isabella. She's not at home and no one will tell me where she went."
"Maybe you should consider that a due."
"I know what I did was wrong," he quietly said. "But almost dying makes one consider one's life from a new perspective. Please, Molly, if you know where she is, tell me."
"And why should I after the way you treated her?"
"Because I'm not the same," he softly said. "I feel as though I'm capable of having a future now. I want a future. I want Isabella to share my life, Molly, if she'll have me."
"I doubt she will." Molly couldn't so easily forget how much he'd hurt Isabella, how callous and cruel, how selfish he'd been. "She took nothing that would remind her of you when she left, not a gown, not a book or scarf. Nothing."
"Let me talk to her at least. I'm a changed person, Molly. My mother will tell you, Shelby will tell you-hell, Charles is concerned for my consequence because I've given up all my vices."
Her reserve melted marginally. He seemed sincere, not charming or glib. "She's not alone. Joe and Mike Thurlow are with her. So don't expect to just walk in and seduce her again."
"I understand. Seduction isn't my intent."
"You'll have to convince Joe, not me." Her mouth curled in distaste. "She's not rid of the Leslies either. Her cousin Harold called on Isabella. Mercer keeps me informed."
"Then her relatives are still a danger to her."
"Of course. Your disappearance from the scene left them free to pursue their nefarious aims. So tell me," she briskly said, "are you serious this time or just missing your amusements?"
"I'm utterly and completely serious. I brought my grandmother's diamond ring to offer Isabella along with my heart. You may see it if you question my sincerity. The ring was my mother's idea."
"The dowager countess knows, then."
"She knows-and approves and is waiting for me to bring Isabella home to Alworth to meet her."
"Hmmm."
"Don't look at me like that. I'll willingly pay penance for all my sins. You can make up a list while I'm gone. But give me Isabella's location so I can plead my case in person."
"What if she's forgotten you?"
"Then I'll do my best to refresh her memory."
"She may want you to beg," Molly tartly submitted. "And I wouldn't blame her."
His dark gaze was unambiguous. "Then I'll beg. I'm dead serious, Molly."
She smiled for the first time since he'd entered the room. "The thought of you on your knees, pleading, almost makes one wish to post to Higham and see for oneself."
"She's at Tavora House?"
"Since the day of your duel."
"With Joe," he murmured, suddenly thinking Isabella and her bodyguard had been together a very long time. He and Joe had met occasionally at debauches, the heavyweight champion welcomed into the male preserves of the beau monde.
"And Mike is there as well," Molly reminded him. "You may have to convince them both of your sincerity."
"Really." One brow rose faintly. "Are they her duennas?"
"At the moment, yes, and Joe's resentful of your cavalier treatment of Isabella. She cried for weeks after they reached Tavora House, he said."
The earl inhaled softly. "I see."
"Just a word of warning."
"You don't think I can take on the heavyweight champion?" he dryly noted.
"Not in your present condition. How much weight have you lost?" Dermott was noticeably lean.
He smiled. "Not as much as Lonsdale."
"Point taken, but I wouldn't suggest you irritate Joe."
"It sounds as though he has a tendre for my wife-to-be."
"Perhaps she's your wife-to-be."
"You don't think I can prevail?"
"I wouldn't lay any bets on it."
His smile was the familiar, warm smile she'd missed.
"Fifty guineas says I win this one," Dermott playfully challenged.
"I'm not sure I care to bet."
"Don't want to lose your money?"
She glared at him for a moment. "Probably not," she relented with a sigh. "You damnable rogue."
"I'm not a rogue anymore, darling."
"Humpf," she snorted, clearly skeptical.
"My bride and I will come and call on you when we return to the City."
"And how long will the honeymoon last, I'm wondering."
"So cynical, Molly, when I'm in love."
He'd never uttered those words since his return from India, and that simple phrase did more than a thousand arguments to change her mind. "Say it again," she ordered.
"I love her," he quietly repeated.
Her smile this time was affectionate. "Then you might just manage to get your way."
"No might about it, Molly." Walking over to where she sat, he bent down, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "Thank you for bringing her to me."
Chapter Twenty-one
JOE AND ISABELLA WERE WATCHING the new foals in the pasture. Standing next to each other, leaning against the high wooden fence that surrounded the pasture, they were talking in a desultory way about the gamboling frolics of the young Thoroughbreds, the beauty of the day, their trip to Higham the next morning. The occasion was no different from countless others during their sojourn in the country.
Until Joe reached out, cupped the back of her head in the palm of his hand, and bending close, gently kissed her.
How long had it been since she'd been kissed? She thought. How long had it been since she'd felt the warmth of a man's body close to hers? But she couldn't offer Joe what he wanted, no more than she could make herself happy again, and a moment later she gently pushed him away.
He acquiesced when a man of his size wouldn't have had to.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He brushed his hand through his fair hair, a quick, nervous gesture like that of a young boy. "I shouldn't have taken liberties." His voice was low, apologetic. "If you fire me, I'll understand."
Such a huge, strong man capable of such sweet earnestness brought tears to her eyes.
"And now I've made you cry with my stupidity," he muttered in self-reproach.
"No, you haven't made me cry because of that. I'm just touched." She gazed up at him, overcome with melancholy. "And if I could ever love anyone again, dear Joe, it would be you. But-"
"You still love Bathurst." Taking out his handkerchief, he carefully held it out to her when he wished he could wipe away her tears himself.
"I don't know if I do or not, but I can't forget him." Even while she understood all the liabilities in loving Dermott. Her eyes held Joe's over the crushed linen of his handkerchief. "And you're not fired. What would I do without you?"
It was scant comfort for a wounded heart, but he said with good grace, "I'm glad, because I wouldn't want to leave."
She handed his handkerchief back. "So we shall muddle on here at Tavora as best we can."
He smiled. "Fair enough."
"And I liked your kiss very much," she softly said.
"Then, that makes two of us."
She laughed. "Good God, life is complicated."
"No one ever promised it would be easy."
"How selfish of me to whine about every little thing when you've literally fought your way to all your successes."
"I was lucky to have survived. Tony Marshall didn't."
"Your friend. Molly told me about it."
He nodded. "So you see, we're both lucky to be here enjoying the sunny day and looking forward to more."
"We are, aren't we? And you're going to take me to Higham and I'm going to buy a great number of bonnets because new bonnets always put me in a good mood."