Lady Scranton wiped her eyes on a black lace handkerchief that was nearly sodden. “I thought he would be cold and scornful. I thought he would mock us.”
“He is not so unkind as that. He really is quite generous. His entire family is.”
“We refused to acknowledge him or your marriage, or even let him speak to us about settlements,” Lady Scranton said, sniffling. “We shut him out for stealing you from us. I thought he’d gloat about our ruin, laugh at us when we were forced to live in the gutter.”
“Then you read Mac very wrong. He would never do such a thing. And you will not have to live in the gutter.” Isabella took her mother’s hands again. “Mama, what happened? With Papa, last night, I mean. Can you tell me?”
Lady Scranton looked not so much crushed in grief as very, very tired. “He called me into his study yesterday afternoon and told me he wanted me to take Louisa and go live in Italy, where I would be able to do well on very little. He wanted me to leave then and there, but of course I could not. I asked when he would be joining us, and he said he would not be able to for a long time. He’d stay behind and try to unravel the mess he’d made.” A new tear trickled down her cheek. “He pressed me to pack and go at once, but it took too long—so many arrangements had to be made. I heard him downstairs in the night, but he never went up to his bedroom. I grew worried. In the small hours, I crept down again to his study and found him on the floor, his face all twisted. The room was a mess, papers everywhere, a table overturned where he’d fallen. The doctor said he’d had an apoplectic fit. He’d died instantly, apparently. Very little pain. That at least is a mercy.”
Isabella put her arms around her mother. “Mama, I’m so sorry.”
“God is punishing me, I think. For not having the courage to stand up to your father, for letting him banish you. I went along with it. I refused to see you or let Louisa see you. And now look at me.” Fresh tears trickled down her face.
Isabella rocked her. “God isn’t as cruel as that; you know that in your heart. Mac told me that Papa had started to lose money a long time ago, when I was still at Miss Pringle’s. Everything seemed to go wrong year after year. It was not your fault.”
Lady Scranton raised her head. “Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“To spare you the worry, I imagine. He was struggling to get the money back so he wouldn’t shame you.”
Her mother shook her head. As Isabella held her close, she thought of things Mac had told her that she could never explain to her mother. It seemed that Lord Scranton had gone into considerable debt to give Isabella her coming-out ball, determined that it be the largest and most elegant of the Season. He’d pinned his hopes on pairing Isabella with one of three young men of fortune to whose families Lord Scranton owed a great deal of money. A marriage with one of them would not only wipe out that debt but let Lord Scranton climb out of the slough he’d gotten himself get into. Isabella had destroyed his hopes when she’d slipped away with Mac to marry him. The fathers of the other three gentlemen had been very angry and demanded that Lord Scranton repay them immediately.
Why did he not tell me? Isabella had asked Mac in indignation. If I’d known I needed to marry to help him, I might not have let my head be turned by the first handsome gentleman who danced with me.
Your father is proud and wanted to orchestrate all without anyone guessing. You were supposed to be dutiful without incentive. I’m afraid, love, that your father had no idea that you had any thoughts in your head at all.
But why did he object when I married you? You and Hart could have dug him out of debt and sent him and Mama off on a long holiday.
Mac had smiled. And be beholden to Hart Mackenzie, the Scottish duke, the rest of his life? Never.
Bloody fool, Isabella had muttered. This was before Bellamy had woken Mac in the wee hours and handed him the message from Inspector Fellows, who’d gone to investigate when he’d heard of the sudden death of Isabella’s father. A natural death, Fellows had said. A sad one.
“I’m here now, Mama,” Isabella said. “I won’t leave you alone again.”
Lady Scranton leaned into Isabella as another flood of tears escaped her.
Isabella stayed with her mother until Lady Scranton declared she needed to lie down. Isabella helped her upstairs, delivering her to her redoubtable lady’s maid. The maid whispered her gratitude to Isabella—Lady Scranton hadn’t shut an eye since the earl’s death, no matter how much the servants had tried to get her to sleep.
Isabella left Lady Scranton in her maid’s capable hands and went down the painfully familiar hall to Louisa’s room and tapped on the door. To a tired, “Yes, what is it?” Isabella entered.
Louisa rose from the chaise on which she’d been reclining and dropped the quilt that had covered her to it.
Isabella’s breath caught. Louisa had filled out from the lanky colt Isabella remembered to a lady of soft curves, her eighteen-year-old face clear and strong. Louisa’s eyes were as green as ever, and framed with rich, brown-red lashes. She wore black now, though without the veil her mother had donned, but Isabella’s little sister had grown into such a lovely young woman. When she had her coming-out ball, she’d stun every gentleman senseless.
“Isabella.” Louisa took a hesitant step forward. “They told me you were here, but Mama wanted me to stay in my room.”
A sob wedged in Isabella’s throat. Louisa started for her, slowly at first until she was running the last few steps to throw herself into Isabella’s arms.
They ended up on the chaise, Isabella pressing her cheek to Louisa’s wet face.
“Why did you not come that day in the park?” Louisa asked when they could speak again. “Mrs. Douglas planned so carefully, but you weren’t there, and we dared not wait.”
“I know.” Isabella wiped her eyes, not wanting to lie, but she did not want to tell Louisa about Payne just then. “I had taken ill. It came on me suddenly.”
“Mrs. Douglas said that. I was worried.”
“Nothing I did not throw off quickly. But I was unhappy to miss the appointment.”
“You are here now. It doesn’t matter.” Louisa clung to Isabella’s hands, much as their mother had. “Isabella, what is to become of me?”
“Become of you? If you mean, where will you live, you and Mama are both welcome to stay with me. In fact, I think you should come home with me tonight.”