Chapter 21
Rian had been in the city for almost two weeks before he decided he could control his temper well enough to pay Isabel a visit. He was not foolish enough to believe she didn’t already know exactly when he had left Oakhaven, or how long he had been in residence at the townhouse. That she had made no effort to communicate with him was telling. It seemed she was keeping her own counsel. A wise move on her part, but perhaps she was merely waiting for him to decide how he wanted to proceed. Rian’s own silence was deliberate. The last encounter between them was still profoundly disturbing to him. Besides, he’d been busy.
Stuart Collins was the name Liam had given him and, after their initial meeting, he had felt guardedly optimistic. Rian had taken an instant liking to the young man, and felt that he would have done so even without his brother’s endorsement. Stuart’s dogged determination and quiet intelligence inspired confidence. If anyone could discover the truth about Catherine, then it would be this serious-minded young man. After giving Stuart what little information he had regarding Catherine, all Rian could do now was wait.
Patience was not a trait that came easily to Rian, so he occupied his time with other matters. Plans for the future.
Despite Liam and Felicity’s protests to the contrary, Rian knew he could not continue to intrude on their lives indefinitely. It was time he used his talents and wealth in the pursuit of a useful and satisfying endeavor. His future beckoned and though recent events might say otherwise, he was not ready to abandon the hope that it would include Catherine. And so he turned to Liam’s man of business to see what advice he could offer.
Matthew Turner was a mournful looking man, and Rian’s first impression was that he would be more at ease in a pulpit delivering the Sunday sermon than deciding whether the fields of industry or agriculture would be a better investment. Thankfully the woeful looking exterior hid a razor-sharp mind. One that had guided Liam through many important financial transactions, thereby increasing the Connor fortune substantially. Discussing investments for Rian’s financial security had become a challenge that both men took delight in pursuing, with much good-natured wrangling involved.
“Tell me, Matthew,” Rian said one evening over a late supper, “how is it that you have never amassed a sizeable fortune for yourself?” He paused, spooning more potatoes on his plate as he looked at his companion across the table. “You certainly have a keen enough mind to pursue such an ambition.”
“It’s really very simple, Mr. Connor,” the older man said, waving his fork at him. “I am far more clever with my client’s money than my own.” For a moment he looked quite crestfallen, and then he brightened. “Taking a chance with your fortune is much more satisfying, and the risk substantially smaller!”
“Well, I would think that any man who takes such pleasure in speculating with my capital ought to be able to address me by my first name,” Rian grumbled.
“Oh, good heavens, Mr. Connor.” The broker looked horrified. “And have me forget my place? That would never do.” They both laughed good-naturedly over the differences between them that nevertheless did not prevent the forging of a friendship that would last a lifetime. Even though Matthew never called Rian by his first name.
But now it was time to visit Isabel. He was meeting Stuart Collins later that afternoon. The young man had news and Rian had the feeling a great many things would change after today. He had kept his distance from his ex-lover for long enough. It was best to get this meeting with Isabel over.
A footman, wearing the elegant Howard livery, showed him into the same salon where he had waited before. He stared at the couch, remembering the last time he had seen it and what had taken place. He could not undo the past. It was what it was, but to prove it had no hold over him, Rian deliberately sat on the couch to wait for the lady of the house.
“Hello Rian, what a lovely surprise.” Isabel’s voice was soft and pleasing to the ear. She smiled as she came toward him, giving absolutely no indication that anything was amiss between them. It was as if the incident at Oakhaven had never happened.
He got to his feet, taking the outstretched hand she offered. She was dressed for riding, and he apologized. “Forgive me; am I keeping you from something?”
“Of course not, the horse will not mind waiting.”
He gave a knowing smile. He already knew neither horse nor riding companions waited for Lady Howard, but he decided not to remark on it. Wearing such an outfit was merely a pretense, but perhaps Isabel wanted him to think she had resumed her busy social life and moved on. It might help to convince him her offer of friendship had been sincere. She sat on the couch, acknowledging his choice to sit next to her with a raised brow. The last time they had sat together on this particular piece of furniture, Rian had made love to her. But then she hadn’t been wearing quite so many clothes.
“What brings you to see me,” she asked. “Although as always, you need no reason to call.”
“A particular question has been plaguing me of late, and it seems, my dear, you are the only one who can provide me with the answer.”
Isabel tipped her head and looked at him. Things had definitely changed between them. There was no playful banter. Instead Rian’s direct manner was a clear indication some weighty matter now occupied his thoughts. Quietly she reminded herself to be agreeable and reasonable. At least until she got what she wanted.
“Of course, if I can be of any help,” she said, smiling at him as she tapped the toe of her riding boot with the crop she held.
“Had you ever met Catherine before I introduced you at our townhouse?”
Isabel cursed silently. Although it was inevitable Rian would still harbor some residual feelings for the milkmaid, it was galling to have every conversation center on the dim-witted girl. She had been hoping his obsession might be waning, but not just yet apparently.
John Fletcher had told her Rian was in the city an hour after his arrival, and she had taken this as a sign that her plan was already reaping success. It had taken a great deal of discipline to not send a note, and she had been thrilled that he had finally taken the initiative to call on her. Hoping to find him gloomy and dejected, in need of the type of distraction she was so accomplished at providing, it was frustrating to find him not in the least despondent.
“Catherine?” Isabel frowned as if pondering his question before favoring him with a sympathetic expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry, are things between you still…uncertain?” Rian gave her a steely look as Isabel tutted compassionately while pretending to search her memory. Her acting skills truly were sublime. “No, I don’t believe we had ever been introduced before,” she continued. “If you recall, she did not recognize the names of any of our mutual acquaintances. Of course it’s always possible that our paths may have crossed at some minor function. It can be so difficult keeping track of everyone you meet.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “Why? Did she say she had met me?”
“No, she did not.” His expression turned grim. “You may not be aware of this, but Catherine suffered a distressing experience that resulted in a significant memory loss for her.”
“Oh my goodness, how dreadful. What kind of experience?” Isabel’s tone made him wary, confirming that she knew more than she was admitting. Could this have anything to do with the ill-feeling between the two women?
“The details are unimportant,” Rian said, ignoring her question, “but what I find interesting is that you knew Catherine’s name…even before I did.” The smile on his face was chilling. “Now how can that be, Isabel, especially if, as you claim, you’ve never met before?”
“Why, Rian, I’m not sure I understand what it is you are trying to say to me.” Realizing that she was going to step into quicksand if she wasn’t careful, Isabel was still confident she could bluff her way through Rian’s suspicions. Agreeable and reasonable, she reminded herself. “It must stand to reason that as I do know Catherine’s name, then obviously I must have met her, although how escapes me for the present. Perhaps someone pointed her out to me, although I fail to see why you are attaching so much importance to such an insignificant detail.”
“It’s important to me, Isabel. Who else could have told you about Catherine?” His voice dropped and turned menacing. “What is it you’re keeping from me?”
Her laugh was a token of bravado that did not fool him. “Why, Rian, it sounds almost as if you believe I am guilty of some deceit.” The uneasy look in her eyes belied her confident tone. Their conversation was not evolving as she intended.
His voice now almost a low growl, Rian spoke again, spacing his words with the utmost care. “I will not ask you again, Isabel. Who is the person that furnished you with Catherine’s name?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stared at him, daring him to call her a liar, or possibly threaten to beat the answer out of her. “You make it sound as if I am being deliberately evasive.”
Her protest and false innocence jarred his nerves, and Rian watched as she glanced away. He knew she was weighing her options, trying to come to a decision. Then her eyes hardened and the way she pressed her lips into a tight line told him Isabel was not going to reveal the identity of her source to him. So be it.
Before she could take another breath he was looming over her, his hands effectively trapping her as they gripped the high back of the couch either side of her head. Isabel pressed herself further back although there was nowhere else she could go. She had not realized Rian could move so quickly, and with his face only inches away, his presence dwarfed her.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Isabel, or on whose instructions, but I will not be a part of it, and neither will Catherine.” His voice was deadly calm. “I still do not know how you managed to be in my bed at Oakhaven, but, no matter what you may tell yourself, we both know I would never invite you there. You have proven yourself a liar, Isabel, the one thing I abhor more than anything else.” He moved a hand from the back of the couch and grasped her face with his fingers, applying enough pressure to let her know she could not escape him. “Stay away from me, and stay away from Catherine. I will not be held responsible for the consequences if you don’t.”
There was no mistaking the violence behind his threat as he removed his hand and left Isabel trembling. Rian had almost reached the front door when her howl of rage stopped him. Any pretense at being reasonable or agreeable had vanished completely.
“What can you possibly want with that sop-faced girl? She’s nobody, the daughter of a drunk who wasted his fortune and her future on whores and gambling!”
Rian turned slowly and looked back across the foyer at her. Isabel’s words, a revelation she knew far more about Catherine than she would admit, now stood between them. An impenetrable barrier that could never be breached. Realizing she had said too much, Isabel clapped a hand to her mouth, and for the briefest of moments Rian considered putting his hands around her slender neck and forcing her to tell him, in exact detail, what she knew, along with the identity of her source. But she wasn’t worth the effort. Whatever knowledge his former lover possessed, he was confident Stuart Collins would soon learn the same, if he had not done so already. He watched as frustrated rage distorted the exotic features to the point Rian almost didn’t recognize the woman he had once cared for. How had she been able to hide this side of her nature from him?
“You ask what I want with Catherine?” His voice, cold and sharp as ice, carried easily across the distance between them. “I want to make her my wife, if she will have me.”
Isabel’s shriek of fury reached him even through the closed door.