The Diamond Affair (26 page)

"I have
never lied to you!"  She crossed the room and stood where he could see
her.  "Not once, Nick.  Whereas you lied to me every time you went away. 
Every time you told me you had business in London, every time you wrote telling
me you would be home soon and forever.  So do not accuse me of lying because
your conscience is hardly clear on that score."

Nicholas had
never seen Isabel look so angry, or so beautiful.  It was quite a formidable
combination and stirred something inside him.  Her face may be flushed from her
anger and the heat of the fire, and her hair had fallen out from the cap to
brush against her cheek, but she was the most amazing woman he had ever set
eyes on.  Even more beautiful than he remembered, something he had not thought
possible.  Her upturned nose was still the same, the honey color of her hair
unchanged and the slimness of her figure, but there was something about the way
she had walked towards him just then and spoken her mind.  The girl he had
married wouldn’t have said it quite that way, used that tone, or moved with
such determination.  Nor would she have thrust out her chin, such an adorable
chin too, or held his gaze.

As he looked
away, too ashamed because she was right and he had lied to her over and over,
he had to admit that the girl he married had changed.  She had become a woman. 

He turned back to
her again, her words ringing in his ears.  "No lover?  But the Forster
lad..."  He remembered the name because he had searched Canterbury for her
under Merritt, Camm and Forster thinking she might have taken her lover’s name.

"Forster? 
Your mean Jacob Forster?  He was a nice boy, but hardly someone I would take to
my bed."

"How would I
know what sort of man you’d take to your bed?"

"If you were
around more you would."

Nicholas had the
sickening feeling that he was to blame for Isabel’s leaving all along.  Even
so, he had to persevere.  Had to know, even if it meant heartache deeper than
anything he'd ever experienced.

"They told
me you and the Forster boy had run away to Canterbury together," he said
dully.

"Then they
were wrong."

"So it would
seem."  He felt almost weak with relief.  She had no lover.

"I suspect
Jacob Forster and I had the unhappy coincidence of leaving Newport at the same
time.  I’m sorry you thought I left you for another man.  I didn’t."  She
thrust out her chin again, not sounding sorry at all.

Nicholas
straightened.  "Then why did you leave?"

She turned away
and busied herself with the herbs laid out on the bench.  Being an apothecary’s
daughter, she had always been interested in medicines and herbal remedies, but
he had never thought to find her working as a shop girl.  Not the wife of
Nicholas Merritt.  Sir Nicholas now.

"There are
too many reasons to go into here and now," she said.

"Then when
and where?  I have a right to know what...what I did wrong.  Was it my
absences?"

She sprinkled
some dried leaves into a mortar and crushed them with a pestle using far more
force than necessary.  No doubt the leaves gave off a powerful odor but he
couldn’t distinguish it amidst the jumble of other pleasing scents emanating
from the cauldron bubbling over the fire.

He was about to
press her for an answer when the door at the rear of the shop opened and a man
entered. 

"Isabel,
I—"  The gentleman spotted Nicholas and stopped.  "Forgive me, Sir,
I’m sorry for interrupting."  He bowed and turned to Isabel, frowning at
the tension in her face.  "Are you all right?"

He must be
someone of considerable wealth to have a pearl earring and velvet cloak, but
what concerned Nicholas more was that he called his wife—his wife—by her first
name.  Not Mistress Camm or whatever, but Isabel.  By rights, the only man
alive who should be calling her that was himself.

"Perfectly
fine," she said, although anyone who knew her would detect the sharp edge
to her voice and know that everything was far from fine. 

"Is this man
bothering you?"  The gentleman drew himself up to his full height, still
several inches shorter than Nicholas, and gave him a glare meant to convey
superiority. 

Nicholas had to
applaud her friend for trying.  With his soft hands and slight stature, he was
clearly not used to being cast in the role of protector.  He looked out of his
depth trying to intimidate.  But, more importantly, the dandy was prepared to
do it.  For Isabel.  Nicholas knew what that compulsion felt like.  He was
prepared to do anything for her too.  If only he knew what she wanted.

"He... 
I...," she stuttered, her face slowly reddening.  It seemed she wasn’t
prepared to tell the newcomer that her husband had found her, or indeed that
she had a husband.  "We were just..." 

"We were
just discussing my terrible case of..."  Nicholas searched for a suitable
ailment.

"Flaccid
erectus," she said.

His eyes widened
as he glared at her.  She responded with a sly smile.  "Not exactly
flaccid," he said, "more...crooked."

"Whatever is
wrong with your yard, be sure to listen to Isabel," the gentleman said,
relaxing his stance a little.  "She’s one of the finest apothecaries in
London.  As physician to the queen, I employ her herbal remedies on occasion
and have found them to be most beneficial.  Your condition should clear up in
no time if you follow her instructions.  Good day, Sir.  Isabel."  He
nodded to them both then left the shop.

Isabel blew out a
breath.

"Strange, I
don’t seem to recall there ever being a problem with my yard in our
relationship," Nicholas said.  "But I didn’t see your departure
coming, so I might be wrong on that score too."

She slumped back
against the bench as if suddenly deflated.  "Nick—"  She broke off
and rested her head in her hand.

He reached for
her, but dropped his arm at the last moment.  "I’m sorry," he said. 
"This has been a trying time for us both."

She nodded. 
"Let’s at least be civil to one another."

"Of course. 
But tell me, who was that man?"

"Lawrence
Shawe.  My employer’s son.  He’s a newly appointed physician to Her
Majesty."

"A little
informal with his address, don’t you think?"

She glared at
him.  "What he calls me is not your concern.  So what did you come here
for?  A remedy?"

"Remedy? 
Yes.  Of course.  I have...a sore throat."

"A sore
throat?  Then why didn’t you say so when Lawrence was here?  It might have
saved you some embarrassment."

Because Nicholas
didn’t think of it then.  "I wouldn’t be embarrassed if you hadn’t given
me an erection problem."

"It suited
my mood at the time."  A faint smile played at her lips.  It faded and she
turned her back to him.  He watched as she mixed three different powders
together then packaged them up and handed it to him.  "Dissolve this in a
cup of red wine and gargle it three times a day.  If the ailment continues then
come and see me next week."

"I’ll be
back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is
Sunday.  The shop won’t be open."

"I
know."

He opened the
door and left without turning back to look at her even though every part of him
wanted to.  As he walked down Bucklersbury Street he tried to sift through his
emotions and set them aside so he could think clearly. 

But the only
clear thought he had was that he had found Isabel.  After all his searching, he
had uncovered her by pure chance.  No, not chance.  Not exactly.  He almost
laughed at the irony but there was nothing humorous about it.  The very thing
that had kept him away from her for long periods after their marriage was the
same one that had brought him to her now.  Spying.

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