Page 24 of The Dreamer and the Deep Space Warrior (Xaal Alien Romance #1)

Isobel

Henry was holding the day’s paper in a tight grip. Lord Richard was looking over his shoulder, his brow creased. The atmosphere in the morning room was so full of friction that Isobel considered returning to her room.

“Good morning,” she greeted instead. “Is something amiss?”

Without looking up from the paper, Henry said, “Who were you in the hedge maze with last night?”

“Excuse me?” Isobel halted on her way to her usual seat. Panic washed over her, causing flashes of light to spark in her vision.

Lord Richard pinned her with a piercing stare. “The gossip column claims they had an anonymous tip about you meeting with someone in the hedges.” There was an edge to his voice that made her uncomfortable, but for once, she couldn’t find what hidden emotion sat there.

She forced herself to move forward again before collapsing unceremoniously into her armchair. Had someone seen him? Seen them ? She brought her fingers to her lips. Ved had assured her no one would be able to get close unnoticed. But… “I don’t understand,” she managed to choke out.

“Did you leave the hall after I retired to the smoking room?” Lord Richard inquired. “Were you with anyone alone, even for a moment, in the maze?”

There was no point in lying about leaving the dance.

Any number of people could have seen her step into the hedge maze.

“Yes, I went in the hedges, but there was no one else there, I swear it. I left in favor of some fresh air as the place was a bit stifling.” Isobel didn’t mention the fact that it had been because he’d moved their wedding without informing her.

She looked between the two men. The tension was so thick she was afraid it was going to choke them all. They had to believe her—their reputation relied on it.

Finally, Lord Richard nodded severely and looked to Henry, his lips forming a tight line. “I think I know what this is about.”

“You do?” she said as evenly as possible.

He clapped Henry on the shoulder. “Some people have nothing better to do than try to ruin me.”

Of course he would make it about him.

“This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, I fear,” he continued.

“I’ll see to it. Until then, I advise we act as if this is exactly what it is—a misunderstanding at the very least and, at the worst, an unsuccessful attempt at stirring up scandal.

They admitted themselves they didn’t see who she was speaking to, which also meant they didn’t see her.

Those hedges are taller than any man, and they were on the outside of them.

Most likely, they saw Isobel walk into the maze and decided to spin a tale. ”

Henry’s expression was grim. “It’s Clara’s debut Season. No one will want anything to do with her if this takes hold,” he said, thumping the papers.

“I’ll handle it,” Lord Richard assured him again, then excused himself.

Her husband-to-be’s idea of handling it was to enlist his mother and father and some of their elitist friends.

He explained the plan to Isobel like she was slow to catch on.

“It’s to show a united front. My parents wouldn’t approve of you if they thought you were out in the hedge mazes acting improper. ”

She wanted to remind him that the Duke and Duchess didn’t approve of her, but she refrained.

He continued. “Besides, I know that no gentleman would follow you. It was late and wouldn’t have been worth the trouble.”

She could feel the insinuation in his words— she wasn’t worth the trouble.

“It’s rather fortunate as well,” he said, “that I applied for the special license far before this little snippet in the papers was released. That way, no one can think it was because of this poorly executed rumor. When I wed you anyway, it’ll save you and your family from scandal.

” He smiled like a cat who had just caught the rat.

“Oh? Special license?” Isobel’s voice rose as she pretended she knew nothing about it.

He cleared his throat but hardly looked ashamed. “Yes, did I not mention it to you?”

It was obvious he knew he hadn’t. Clasping her hands in front of her, she waited for him to explain, but the arrival of the Duke and Duchess was announced at that exact moment.

Getting into the carriage took all her willpower and strength. Having to constantly remind herself that she needed to act, sit, speak, and even breathe a certain way was an endeavor that exhausted her before she even had to do it.

It was a small mercy that, besides a brief exchange of niceties, the Duchess was far too busy talking about who would and wouldn’t be in attendance at the opera to acknowledge Isobel.

She rattled off names like her sole purpose in life was to know everyone and their business.

Lord Richard occasionally asked questions about someone, but Isobel tuned them out.

She was far too busy wondering if there were similar events on Runus.

She would have to ask Ved when next she saw him.

It was sprinkling when they arrived. Lord Richard nearly forgot to offer her his arm as she stepped down from the carriage.

Meanwhile, the Duchess seemed perturbed that she couldn’t take her time being admired as she was walked inside due to the inclement weather.

“Hurry up. I don’t want my hair ruined,” she snapped.

The moment they were inside the theater, it was a blur of greetings that Isobel did her best to keep up with.

Despite holding on to Lord Richard’s arm, she felt alone in a rushing tide.

He was charming, falling easily into a role of his own, one that was all rich laughs and smiles showing the perfect amount of teeth.

He introduced her to a flurry of people she’d only heard about or seen in passing.

A lot of them mentioned they’d be in attendance at their wedding.

Every time it was mentioned, it felt like a vise tightening around her lungs.

By the time they got to their box, she was breathless .

Lord Richard led her to her seat with a hand hovering at the small of her back. The Duchess sat on her other side. If the carriage ride had been excruciating, this was pure torture—her own personal hell.

Nonetheless, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, Isobel sat down.

The Duchess turned toward her with pursed painted lips. “These seats are far better than what you’re accustomed to, aren’t they, Miss Nott?”

Isobel ground her teeth together but was saved from answering by an attendant speaking to them. It was one thing to marry Lord Richard—she knew what she was and wasn’t getting with him—but it was another thing entirely to suffer through interactions with his family.

The overture picked up, the instruments gliding into harmony with each other.

Instead of relaxing in the safety the music provided, she had the distinct feeling that she was drowning on land.

That she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

She’d had that feeling throughout most of her life—like she’d been born at the wrong time, as the wrong person, or in the wrong place.

But now the pressure was insistent, an immediate knowing that she should not be sitting here between Lord Richard and his mother.

The grief was overwhelming.

Though Isobel was trying not to attract the notice of those around her, something she did caught Lord Richard’s attention.

“Where are your glasses?” he asked with a tone of annoyance, removing his at the same time. He must have seen something on her face because his own pinched into an anger that had only been hinted at before. “Do try , won’t you?”

“I don’t feel well.” Isobel didn’t know how she managed to get the words out. Her voice sounded so monotone and controlled that it scared her. She could feel more than see the Duke and Duchess glaring at her from her other side.

“Why didn’t you say something before we left?” Lord Richard demanded.

Now her anxiety was truly becoming hard to regulate.

A prickly sweat broke out over her skin.

Her breaths came faster and shorter. Her heart raced.

Suddenly, it felt as though her stays were constricting her, cutting off her oxygen.

“I’m just… I’ll—” She stood up, and the world twisted, the performers on the stage blurring.

The music became a discordant thrum to her racing heart.

She careened back, somehow managing to stay upright as she exited the box.

Stumbling a couple of steps, she braced herself against the wall, trying to regain control of her body.

An iron grip wrapped around her upper arm, and a harsh voice filtered through her ragged gulps for air. “What in the devil has possessed you, woman?”

Groaning, she tried to pull out of Lord Richard’s bruising hold, but he was boxing her in. His other hand clamped down on her chin, wrenching her face up to look at him.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he snarled.

“I am not as forgiving as your brother and father. I will not tolerate your little tantrums and this odd behavior that borders on improper half the time. You are to be mine , and it is about time you start understanding what that means. We are in this situation because of you. I have a reputation to uphold, and you will not embarrass me any further.”

His grip tightened around her arm, and she winced from the pain. “Lord Richard, let me go.” She attempted to sound assertive, but due to her constricted lungs it came out small and whispered.

“Do you understand me?” He jerked her hard as if he could shake her out of her affliction .

A whimper escaped between her lips, and something dark flashed in his eyes. Satisfaction?

“Take your hands off me,” she rasped, but when he made no move to do so, she attempted to knee him. He pivoted his hips at the right moment, his grip becoming impossibly tighter.

Stepping into her so she couldn’t do it again, he pinned her against the wall. “You spoiled brat. When we are married, I will be glad to break you of this attitude. Even if I have to beat it from you. Say you understand me,” he bit out, spittle landing on her cheek as he did.

“I understand completely,” she snapped, looking straight into those cold blue eyes. In fact, she saw things clearer than she ever had before.

“Good. Now, collect yourself and come back inside.” He let her go with a shove. Then, as if nothing had happened, he fixed his sleeves, pulled his coat back into place, and slipped back into the box.

The thought of returning and sitting next to him left her nauseated. Instead, she turned on her heel, not knowing what she was doing until she was down the hall, down the stairs, and outside.

In the rain.

What had been a sprinkle when they arrived had turned into a full torrential downpour.

But the rain grounded her. She took deep breaths, tilting her face toward the sky.

She didn’t care that it was soaking her through.

Didn’t care that she would have to explain her ruined gown and hair to Lord Richard and his pompous family.

She didn’t care much for anything at that moment.

Over the din of the storm, she barely heard someone clear their throat nervously. “Miss Nott, do you need assistance? I can escort you back inside, or to the carriage if you like.”

“Carriage,” she said, recognizing the man as the driver that had brought them here.

“This way, miss.”

She followed him, unconcerned with her soaked state. He helped her into the carriage, seemingly unbothered by it as well.

“Could you take me home? Would there be enough time for you to get back for the Duke and Duchess?” she croaked.

The calculations worked across his features as he took in her disheveled state. She prayed to anyone who would listen he could.

Then he gave her a winsome smile. “With a little luck and speed, I think I can, miss.”

Relief flooded her. The moment the door was closed, though, the tears started—great, heaving sobs that came from deep within her.

She’d known Lord Richard wasn’t overly fond of her. But with the way he’d treated her, he must feel nothing short of hatred. If she’d ever hoped she could grow to love him, that was impossible now. She couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t.

By the time the carriage came to a complete stop, her sobs had become hiccoughs.

Gathering herself the best she could, she thanked the driver profusely and apologized for the mess, to his dismay.

She trudged up the steps, listening to the sound of the carriage and horses plodding through puddles back the way they came.

But as she reached for the door handle to Nott Manor, she was certain this wasn’t where she was meant to be, either.

And so, she ran.