A Poisoned Season by TASHA ALEXANDER Read Free Book Online Page B

Lord Pembroke. You should write to him, Margaret. No one will think anything of his receiving a summons from you, and it will add nicely to the rumor of your growing attachment to each other. Don’t say anything specific about why you want to see him. It will be best to have as little of this as possible in writing.”
    Davis dispatched the footman again, and in short order Jeremy was standing before us. “Brilliant!” he said when I told him our plan. “Pembroke will be eternally grateful. He’s quite taken with the girl, you know.”
    After Jeremy departed to collect Lord Pembroke, Isabelle and Cécile returned to the library. Isabelle, dressed in one of my lacy tea gowns, looked much better composed after her bath and could hardly stop talking about the merits of the man she loved. Soon after we had eaten a light supper, the gentlemen arrived. Isabelle rushed to Lord Pembroke, who looked pleased, though a bit embarrassed, at this public display.
    “Em,” Jeremy began, taking my arm. “I understand you have a collection of Greek vases in your library. Would you be so good as to show them to me?”
    “I suppose so,” I said, noting that Cécile and Margaret had already fled the room and feeling not altogether comfortable with the notion of leaving the couple entirely alone. Jeremy gave Pembroke a jaunty salute and pulled me out the door.
    “Having second thoughts about your role in the corruption of the youth of England?”
    “Not exactly. I just don’t want to leave her in a situation that could cause her more harm than good.”
    “Don’t worry, darling. Pembroke’s half-terrified and is not about to do anything improper. They’ll have a kiss, and a good cry and all will be forgotten in the morning.”
    “Is he quite in love with her?” I asked.
    “As much as any gentleman might be.”
    “Will he ask her to go to Gretna Green?”

    “I don’t think so. He made it clear to me that he’s not interested in courting scandal.”
    “Then perhaps Isabelle is better off marrying Charles Berry. Pembroke can’t be much devoted to her if he’s willing to stand by and watch her marry another man.”
    “You are a romantic, aren’t you?” He paused before the door to the library. “It’s quite fetching.” We entered the room, where Margaret and Cécile were in the thick of a game of chess. Jeremy sat beside Margaret, commenting on her every move. I pulled She by H. Rider Haggard off a shelf. With effort, I forced myself to follow the adventures of Ludwig Horace Holly and the exotic queen, Ayesha, She Who Must Be Obeyed, though all the while I was wondering if Lord Pembroke loved Isabelle enough to take her to Scotland. When an hour had passed, I put down the book, marched back to the drawing room and knocked loudly on the door, waiting a few moments before opening it. Pembroke, who looked very rumpled, was pacing furiously in front of the fireplace. Isabelle was crying harder than ever.
    “I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but I think that it’s best if—”
    I did not need to finish my sentence. Pembroke grabbed Isabelle’s hand, kissed it with great emotion, and ran from the room. Isabelle looked as if her heart was shattered. She buried her face in a pillow she found on the settee and continued to sob. I sat next to her, gently rubbing her back. Cécile came in and said nothing for several minutes. At last, she pulled Isabelle from her supine position and began to speak in a very serious tone.
    “What did Lord Pembroke say to you?”
    “He told me I should marry Mr. Berry. I thought he loved me. How could he ask me to marry someone else?”
    “He wants to protect you from scandal,” I said, knowing full well that he was at least as concerned for himself as he was for her.
    “I feel like such a fool. I thought he would beg me to go to Gretna Green.”

    “And would you have?”
    “Of course I would.” She stopped crying. “So Mr. Berry is forced upon me, and dreadful though that is, I know