“You know I came here, to Surrey, I mean, to see you. I’m not particularly well acquainted with Lady Cassandra or Lord Swifdon.”

“Yes, I know,” Garrett replied, struggling to remain polite. “I wondered why you felt it necessary to follow me here.” He lowered his voice even though they were alone. “If you need more money or—”

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut, a pained expression on her face. She held up a hand. “No. It’s not about money. You’ve been quite generous to us. It’s just that…” She opened her eyes, braced a hand on the table, and stared at him. Garrett had the uneasy feeling many a lesser man had fallen prey to that beautiful face. Like Harold Langford, perhaps. “You must know I’ve developed feelings for you, Garrett.”

Garrett took a step back. “Feelings?”

“Yes. We’ve been in each other’s company a great deal in London of late and I—I’ve come to care for you.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “I hope you won’t be offended when I tell you this is a surprise to me, Isabella.”

She arched a brow and stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t play coy, Garrett. You must have noticed my interest in you.”

He nodded. “Since we’ve been here in Surrey, yes, but earlier, in London—”

“I’m telling you now.” She stamped her foot, but then smiled at him sweetly and allowed her arms to fall to her sides. “Don’t you think I’m beautiful, Garrett?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead. “That is hardly the point, Mrs. Langford.”

“You called me Isabella before.” She quickly moved around the table in a swish of skirts and pulled his hand to her bosom. “Don’t stop.”

Garrett pulled his hand from her grasp. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes searched his face. “Why? Because you feel guilty for falling in love with me? Because of Harold?”

Garrett stared off, out the window. “I do feel guilt, terrible guilt, but it’s not for the reason you think.”

“What reason then?” Isabella demanded, staring up at him, her lips quivering.

Garrett cursed under his breath and turned his head sharply to face her. “Isabella,” he whispered, “it’s high time I told you. Your husband died saving my life.”

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Isabella’s face drained of color. Her pale pink lips continued to tremble and her eyes searched Garrett’s face as if she’d learn the rest of the story there.

“What do you mean?” she whispered sharply.

Garrett shoved his hand through his hair and paced toward the window. “It’s true. He died saving my life. Your husband is dead because of me.”

“I don’t understand.”