Chapter Four
The innkeeper had come up to their room, bringing what Isabel suspected might be every extra piece of bedding they owned. He set up a small table with two chairs, and soon returned with heaping bowls of steaming stew and buttered bread. It seemed Jason had accounted for all their needs. Save one. Isabel still needed a solution to her current predicament. Hiding at one of his family estates would provide only a temporary fix.
The best she had done while pondering the situation was to realize that, more than anything, what she needed was to no longer remain unmarried. Then those men, whoever they were, wouldn’t be able to wed her in some political game. But she wasn’t married and certainly didn’t have any prospects. She didn’t even know many men her age. St. Bart’s admitted only girls, and the adjacent school, St. Basil’s, had never provided any tempting prospects. Which left only the man she was currently with. She glanced across the table from her. She’d studied him so much during the carriage ride, she feared she’d already memorized all his handsome features.
He wasn’t married.
Could he be the solution she needed? It was a ludicrous idea, but it was the only one she had. Jason was handsome and gallant, and she dared think even charming. Because of those qualities, he was more than likely already spoken for, betrothed to the prettiest of genteel-born ladies in London. Still, he might be her only hope of getting out of this mess. And certainly Jason would see the benefits of making her unavailable for marriage to someone who wanted the current queen murdered. He already worked to protect the Crown. Isabel could help do the same, if only in a small way.
She cleared her throat, trying to think of how to ask such a thing. “I don’t suppose those men would be after me if I were already married,” she said.
He looked up from his meal. “I am not certain that would stop them, but it would definitely slow them down. They have proven that they’re willing to go to the extreme to accomplish their goals. They’ve attempted to kidnap you twice now.”
“Still, it is worth considering, I think,” she said.
“What is?”
“Me finding a husband.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you have someone in mind? A suitor from near the school?” he asked.
“A suitor?” she asked, blankly. She watched his face, noting how very attractive his blue eyes were. Gold flecks enhanced them, making her want to stare into their depths. Oh for heaven’s sake. She needed to get a hold of herself. This wasn’t a romance, this was necessity. “No, nothing like that.”
He returned his attention to his food.
“You could marry me,” she blurted out.
He stilled, staring blankly at her. Then a thick line furrowed his brow and he set down his spoon. He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
She winced. That had not come out the way she’d hoped. “You are not already wed, else I’m certain I’d have seen a wife at your townhome, true?”
“True.” His frown deepened.
“Betrothed?”
“No.”
Hope blossomed within her. “Then you are available for marriage?”
He ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “No, I am not.”
She chewed on her lip and watched him. “You do not care for women?” she asked, her words slow and deliberate.
His brows rose in surprise and then he chuckled, and the mirth created such attractive crinkles at the edges of his eyes. She sighed.
“I very much care for women, as it were. I am simply not looking for a wife.”
“I see.” She dug the spoon through her stew as if she might find the answer hidden somewhere amid the potatoes and lamb pieces. “I thought that as a protector of the Crown, you would be interested in being a protector no matter the cost.”
“Isabel, I am protecting you so that you are not forced to play a part in this traitorous plan. It is not your place to protect the queen. That is the purpose of the Brotherhood,” he said.
“Yes, but that does not negate the usefulness of the rest of us. Would you not expect a man to assist the queen if he saw her about to trip, even if he were merely a footman?” she asked.
He blinked at her, and his jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke. “That is not the same thing.”
“Protecting the sovereignty of the kingdom is every Englishman’s duty,” she said.
“Perhaps, but you are not English.”
“But if I can help—”
“You cannot help. It is the Brotherhood’s job to protect the queen, and you as well. Now you must allow me to do my job.”
He stood abruptly and made his way to the door with powerful strides. “I must tend to the horses and ensure we have fresh rides ready to leave at dawn.” He pulled on his great coat. “You’ll be safe in here.”
After he closed the door behind him, she dropped her head into her hands. That had been a colossal failure. Granted, she’d never proposed to anyone before, but she wagered that had gone about as badly as it could have. Instead of helping, it appeared she had infuriated Jason. Not to mention it had been rather humiliating.
So if he was unmarried and not betrothed, then why wouldn’t he want to marry her? Was she so undesirable? Of course, he was a viscount. There were undoubtedly legions of English girls who would be better suited to be his wife. Even though she was a princess, she certainly had not been raised as one. No, Jason had probably been wise in refusing her, even if his rejection had stung.
Whether she was humiliated or not, mattered little now. She had to do something or risk being part of the downfall of the English monarchy. She couldn’t let herself be a pawn in the machinations. Not if there was anything she could do to stop it.
True, Jason had insisted that it wasn’t her place to save the queen, but that didn’t mean she had to sit by and do nothing. Besides, if Jason had to protect her and keep her out of the hands of these villains, then that meant he wasn’t helping to protect the queen.
No, Jason might not see it, but the only solution was for her to marry someone. If not Jason, then someone else. She’d rather marry a stranger than play a role in killing the young queen. Jason was right—she wasn’t English, not truly, but she’d been raised English. If Jason wasn’t going to help her, she’d find someone who would.
She stood in front of the grainy mirror at the dressing table and patted her hair. She pinched her cheeks to pinken them before she slipped out of the room. She could find some willing participant in this inn. There had been several men when she and Jason had first arrived.
…
Jason made his way to the stables to check on the horses. He would have done so regardless, but the questions Isabel had been asking him had made him most uncomfortable. She was resourceful, he’d give her that. When faced with a nearly impossible problem, she’d come up with a clever solution, even if it would prove only temporary.
But he was not the solution. It mattered not that she’d shrewdly appealed to his sense of duty to the Crown. He certainly couldn’t tell her why he’d chosen not to get married. No one need know the truth. People could think what they would of him, but he did not deserve to be a husband.
He couldn’t blame Isabel for asking. He was near, and he had already vowed allegiance to protecting Queen Victoria. He was the logical choice. Still, her request had surprised him. In truth, much of what she’d said to him this evening had disarmed him.
Earlier in the carriage, she’d talked about knowing what it was like to discover you weren’t who you thought you were. She’d looked so lost and scared in that moment, and damned if he hadn’t agreed with her. He had nearly told her everything about his own life, the secret he’d discovered about his own identity. But his mother had always told him that it wasn’t his secret to tell. Even though it sure as hell felt as if it were very much his secret. It was, after all, entirely about him. The day he’d found out that his real father had been their stable master was forever imprinted in his mind.
But he couldn’t tell Isabel he was a bastard.
After spending entirely too much time in the stable, listening to the rain patter on the tree canopy surrounding him, he realized he’d likely wasted enough time avoiding Isabel. With any luck, she’d already be asleep, and Jason could simply take his place in the chair and wait until morning.
He stepped inside the inn, and the noise from the tavern assaulted him. Cheers and shouts ensued, and he was certain he saw someone standing on a table. Drunken fools. He made his way to the edge of the room to skirt the crowd, and then a flash of chestnut caught his attention. He turned and walked closer, to better see what was happening. Isabel was perched atop the table pointing at some of the men who encircled her.
Isabel.
What the devil was she doing down here? He wasted no time in shoving his way through the men, even though several of them were twice as wide as he was and at least a head taller. They grew them big out here in the country.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked when he reached her. He moved to grab her off the table, but she sidled out of his way.
“Since you declined my proposition, I am now trying to find myself a husband.” She gave him a tight smile. “These gentlemen,” she stumbled over the word, “are vying for my hand.”
He eyed the crowd. Several of the men winked up at her. One elbowed him hard in the gut, trying to shove him away from the table. “Yes, I’m certain they are. This is not how to go about getting a husband, Isabel. Get down from there.”
She shook her head. “You do not wish to assist me, and that is perfectly all right. I shall do this on my terms.”
“You hear that, she don’t want you,” one particularly large man yelled at Jason. Then he reached his beefy hand up to Isabel. “I’ll make you a good husband, my lady.”
“I’ll bring home fresh flowers every day,” another yelled.
This was insane, pure madness. The stench of ale burned Jason’s eyes.
“I’ve got a handful of kids to keep you company,” another man boasted. And the other men erupted in laughter.
This was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly be serious. “Isabel, we will find another solution.”
She looked down at him. “There are no other options.”
For a moment, Jason simply stared at her. Standing on the table, she was glorious. Beautiful and fierce and determined. What if she was also right? What if the best way for him to protect the queen right now was to assist Isabel in marrying immediately?
He could allow her to wed one of the curs in this tavern. Many of the men in here were likely hardworking, but could they truly provide for her? They certainly wouldn’t be able to protect her, especially since they wouldn’t be privy to the information that would keep Isabel safe. She’d never find a man in here who would know true worth. That was unacceptable. Certainly, even he, the bastard son of a stable master, was a better option than the men in here.
Without thinking, Jason stood upon one of the chairs. “Isabel, please consider that the men who are after you will not quit so easily. Whomever you marry will be in danger.” He pulled her to him. “I shall marry you. We’ll head to Scotland in the morning.”
She eyed him warily. “I hadn’t considered that by marrying me, I would put someone in danger. I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I am the perfect candidate since I am properly trained for such things. I can protect myself.” He shrugged and ignored the men who continued to yell. “Besides, your logic makes a certain amount of sense. Even if your marriage wouldn’t deter the traitors forever, it will most assuredly buy us some much-needed time,” he said. Then he motioned to the men who were shouting disapprovingly. “Unless, of course you’d prefer one of them.”
Her exotic green eyes met his, and for the briefest of seconds, it felt as if they were the only two in the room. “I’d much rather prefer you.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted her from the table and out of the common room. The other men continued to yell, but Jason ignored them.
Damnation. What had he just promised to do?
…
After a restless night in which Isabel got very little sleep, she and Jason climbed back into the carriage and headed north to Scotland. She had lain in the bed and listened to Jason breathing, knowing that soon they’d be husband and wife. Nerves had eaten at her all evening. They were traveling directly to Gretna Green, the first village over the Scottish border and the most popular place for couples to elope.
She was putting him in danger simply by him marrying her and protecting her. Yes, he was trained. Still, she was unsure if she should allow him to fall on this particular sword, just for her. Perhaps she should instead persuade him to pay her passage on a ship and sail somewhere that no one would ever find her.
Now, several hours later, fatigue nearly overwhelmed Isabel. She had a mind to tell Jason to simply forget the entire ordeal. But this impromptu wedding wasn’t about her, it was about protecting the Crown of England. She could endure being uncomfortable for a while longer. They’d been riding so long, she ached everywhere. What she wanted more than anything was a nice warm bath and then a soft bed to sink into, but this was to be her wedding night. Certainly, she’d need to be alert for that. She knew a little about what to expect, but only from books and overhearing discussions between school employees a time or two. If only she had talked about this sort of thing with Lilith, but Isabel hadn’t thought marriage was on the horizon for her. Yet here she was, a bride-to-be.
“I believe we are here,” Jason said.
“Where is here, precisely?” she asked once they’d stepped down from the rig. A long, white clay building sat in front of them. A black sign boasted hand-painted white letters.
“The village blacksmith,” Jason said.
Her heart thundered. Yes, she’d heard about this. Heard about couples running from parents who hadn’t given a marriage blessing. Couples passionately in love who couldn’t wait another moment to be married. Many of the stories were so romantic, she’d nearly forgotten they were true and not fictionalized tales. The Gretna Green village blacksmith was synonymous with desperate marriages—desperately in love or desperately compromised.
It was hard to imagine that her seemingly insignificant life could prove so vital to the Crown. She felt the weight of responsibility settle around her, a heavy cloak of duty. The honor of it all brought tears to her eyes.
She grabbed his hand. “You don’t have to do this. I could run, escape somewhere.”
His eyes met hers. “They would find you. Isabel, it is my duty to protect the Crown. At the moment, that duty calls for me to marry you. This is the right thing to do.” He frowned. “Shall we?”
Perhaps he’d misread her misty eyes. “Yes. I suppose I should wish I looked a bit better,” she said.
He merely shrugged and stepped ahead of her. “It’s not a real marriage, Isabel; it matters not how you look.”
His words, truth or not, sliced right into her. “You’re right, of course,” she said firmly, willing herself to agree. He couldn’t have made it more abundantly clear that he was not attracted to her if he’d simply come out and used those exact words. While she was already quite smitten with him, which was utterly ridiculous. She told herself it was simply because he’d become her champion, rescuing her and being kind to her, although they barely knew each other. She suspected she was a complete ninny and her affection for him ran deeper than was practical.
It’s not a real marriage, Isabel.
Real marriage or not, this was her wedding day, the only one she’d ever have, and she was here alone, save her disgruntled bridegroom. He’d agreed to this, but everything about Jason revealed how displeased he was with the entire situation. The muscled tick in his jawline clearly signaled his irritation. His eyes had narrowed in shrewd observance.
They stepped inside the blacksmith’s shop. The ceiling hung low, giving the room a cave-like appearance. The heat and smell of embers permeated the space. One wedding ceremony was ending, and Isabel felt sharply out of place. Unwilling to intrude upon the other couple’s blatantly romantic moment, she stayed where she was, practically gluing herself to the door. The couple exchanging vows were quite obviously in love, so much so that it seemed to permeate the air around them, rolling off in waves of longing glances and tender smiles.
They answered the blacksmith’s questions and exchanged rings, and then the couple kissed. Isabel wished she could look away from the sight, but her eyes would not cooperate. The kiss was perfect, the way he cradled her face, the way the pretty girl’s eyes fluttered closed, then the sweetest brush of their lips. Isabel sighed in spite of herself. If she were not careful, Jason would believe he was marrying the silliest of females.
The other couple’s ceremony concluded, and it was time for her and Jason. The blacksmith asked the newly married couple to act as the witnesses required for the wedding so that his two daughters could return home for the evening. They’d happily agreed, and for the next quarter of an hour, everything seemed to slow down as if time inside this shop moved at a slower rate than the rest of the world. Odd that, considering everyone’s rush to get here.
The blacksmith instructed her and Jason to place their hands on the anvil. The fire from the simmering coals heated her back and sweat beaded down her spine. The blacksmith “priest” asked if they were there of their own free will. If they were both currently unmarried.
Jason answered, and Isabel did the same. Then Jason was sliding a golden band onto her left hand. When had Jason had time to procure rings? She’d have to remember to ask him later. The band sat heavy and foreign, and she stared dumbly at it. Then Jason tilted her chin up, bent, and kissed her. His lips pressed to hers, and she leaned in to him, and then it was over. Not nearly the tenderness nor romance of the couple before them.
This wasn’t a real marriage, she reminded herself. There would be no romance.
The blacksmith announced them married. Husband and wife.
She was a wife.