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Authors: Shirlee Busbee
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thought about it, the more annoyed Marcus became. Hugh Manning had been a fine young man, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Isabel had loved her husband so much that she could not even bear the thought of marriage to another man. It was, he decided, downright insulting. Why, he had as much to offer a wife as Hugh! How the devil did she know that he wouldn’t prove to be an even better husband than Hugh had been?
Hastily reminding himself that a comparison between his husbandly virtues and a dead man’s wasn’t the point, Marcuscleared his throat and said, “Since you are determined not to marry me, we have only two choices.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One, if word of a betrothal between us becomes public, we deny it and paint Whitley as a malicious spreader of gossip, or, two, we confirm it and at some later date, you will have to cry off.” Dryly, he added, “Since you refuse to marry me, I’m afraid you may have to face being labeled a jilt after all…and please remember that it is your choice. I did offer to marry you.”
Softly she said, “Yes, I’m aware of that and I appreciate it. And if the worst happens and I am labeled a jilt…” Her jaw clenched. “It will be unpleasant for a few weeks or months and I can only hope that my father-in-law and Edmund do not suffer from the gossip and speculation.”
“So what do you propose we do?” Marcus asked. “Deny or confirm, if the question arises?”
They discussed the matter for several minutes longer, before Isabel said, “We can do nothing until we learn what Whitley will do with the information.” She bit her lower lip. “He might, though I doubt it, say nothing, but that would be totally out of character for him. I think we have to simply wait to see if he does spread the word….” She made a face. “And if he does, then we shall confirm our engagement and a few weeks later, I shall cry off.”
Reluctantly, Marcus agreed and shortly he took his leave of her and rode toward Sherbrook Hall. His thoughts heavy, Marcus had much to consider. Whitley had some power over Isabel. Whatever it was, and Marcus didn’t doubt that it was serious indeed, she was unwilling to tell him what it was or let him help her. He supposed he should be offended that she was willing to face social disgrace and rampant gossip rather than marry him. He half smiled. How could he have expected any other reaction from Isabel? She’d been confounding him since birth.
But the situation with Whitley was no smiling matter and, thinking of the major, his expression darkened. He wouldhave to deal with Whitley. Isabel might refuse to marry him, but she could not prevent him from doing just as he pleased in the matter of Major Whitley. Whatever power or secret Whitley held over Isabel had to be discovered and destroyed and he was just the man to do it. A lethal, dangerous glitter lit his eyes. Julian or Charles would have instantly recognized that glitter and applauded its appearance with relief and enthusiasm. The tiger that both cousins knew had to live within the cautious and amiable Marcus Sherbrook had finally awakened.
Chapter 3
I sabel misjudged Whitley. Even with Sherbrook’s stunning announcement echoing in his ears, he did not immediately head back to the Stag Horn Inn and start ferreting around for information. Instead, he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode toward the coast. His schemes involving Isabel may not have played out as he had hoped, but he would consider his next move at a more convenient time. He could brood and plot later; right now, he was focused on another little plan dear to his heart—one that he was confident would pay a much bigger dividend.
Several miles later, the terrain changed dramatically and, the closer he came to the coast, the neat farms and forested areas of the gentle hills gave way to bare, windswept, wildly undulating ground. Coming to a divide in the road, he dug in his vest pocket and pulled out a
Hastily reminding himself that a comparison between his husbandly virtues and a dead man’s wasn’t the point, Marcuscleared his throat and said, “Since you are determined not to marry me, we have only two choices.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One, if word of a betrothal between us becomes public, we deny it and paint Whitley as a malicious spreader of gossip, or, two, we confirm it and at some later date, you will have to cry off.” Dryly, he added, “Since you refuse to marry me, I’m afraid you may have to face being labeled a jilt after all…and please remember that it is your choice. I did offer to marry you.”
Softly she said, “Yes, I’m aware of that and I appreciate it. And if the worst happens and I am labeled a jilt…” Her jaw clenched. “It will be unpleasant for a few weeks or months and I can only hope that my father-in-law and Edmund do not suffer from the gossip and speculation.”
“So what do you propose we do?” Marcus asked. “Deny or confirm, if the question arises?”
They discussed the matter for several minutes longer, before Isabel said, “We can do nothing until we learn what Whitley will do with the information.” She bit her lower lip. “He might, though I doubt it, say nothing, but that would be totally out of character for him. I think we have to simply wait to see if he does spread the word….” She made a face. “And if he does, then we shall confirm our engagement and a few weeks later, I shall cry off.”
Reluctantly, Marcus agreed and shortly he took his leave of her and rode toward Sherbrook Hall. His thoughts heavy, Marcus had much to consider. Whitley had some power over Isabel. Whatever it was, and Marcus didn’t doubt that it was serious indeed, she was unwilling to tell him what it was or let him help her. He supposed he should be offended that she was willing to face social disgrace and rampant gossip rather than marry him. He half smiled. How could he have expected any other reaction from Isabel? She’d been confounding him since birth.
But the situation with Whitley was no smiling matter and, thinking of the major, his expression darkened. He wouldhave to deal with Whitley. Isabel might refuse to marry him, but she could not prevent him from doing just as he pleased in the matter of Major Whitley. Whatever power or secret Whitley held over Isabel had to be discovered and destroyed and he was just the man to do it. A lethal, dangerous glitter lit his eyes. Julian or Charles would have instantly recognized that glitter and applauded its appearance with relief and enthusiasm. The tiger that both cousins knew had to live within the cautious and amiable Marcus Sherbrook had finally awakened.
Chapter 3
I sabel misjudged Whitley. Even with Sherbrook’s stunning announcement echoing in his ears, he did not immediately head back to the Stag Horn Inn and start ferreting around for information. Instead, he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode toward the coast. His schemes involving Isabel may not have played out as he had hoped, but he would consider his next move at a more convenient time. He could brood and plot later; right now, he was focused on another little plan dear to his heart—one that he was confident would pay a much bigger dividend.
Several miles later, the terrain changed dramatically and, the closer he came to the coast, the neat farms and forested areas of the gentle hills gave way to bare, windswept, wildly undulating ground. Coming to a divide in the road, he dug in his vest pocket and pulled out a
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