Surrender Becomes Her Read Free Page B

to be to make her miserable. “D-d-did no one suit your fancy?” she forced herself to ask.
    His eyes on the shore of the lake, he muttered, “There was a young lady…. She’s the reason I have been away for so long. I offered for her, but her father turned me down.”
    “But why?” Isabel cried, upset for him. “Surely you explained your situation to him? And told him that you are Baron Manning’s son?”
    “Oh, I did all that,” he said, “but Mr. Halford didn’t want his daughter buried alive in India. He has a nice local gentleman all picked out for her, one who will inherit a title.”
    “And she? What did she want?”
    “What difference does it make,” he snapped. “Her father said no and Roseanne wouldn’t stand up to him.”
    Her tender heart aching for him, feeling his pain, she slipped her little hand into his. “I’m very sorry, Hugh,” she said softly.
    His fingers tightened on hers and he looked down at her. “Thank you, Izzy. You’re the only one I’ve told about Roseanne.” He brushed back a lock of her unruly hair. “Did you know that she has red hair, too? Not as dark as yours and her eyes are blue…blue as the English sky.”
    He frowned, noticing for the first time the signs of tears on her cheeks. “What is this?” he asked. “Have you been crying? Who has been making you unhappy? I’ll run him through for you, if you like.”
    She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “But it does,” Hugh argued gently. “I don’t like seeing my little friend upset. What can I do to make you happy again?”
    The words popped out before she had time to consider them. “You could marry me and take me to India with you.”
    Goggle-eyed, Hugh stared at her. “Marry you! What put that bee in your bonnet?”
    Averting her face, she said stiffly, “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “But you did. Why?” he persisted, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.
    “Because you want a wife and I-I-I can’t bear to be treated like a child anymore by Aunt Agatha. And Marcus—!” Anguish and temper coiled in her breast and she exclaimed, “Oh, how I wish I was a thousand miles away from here!” Her eyes locked on his, she said desperately, “If we were to be married, we’d both get what we want.”
    They stared at each other for a long time, Hugh thinking of the lonely years in India without the benefit of a wife at his side; Isabel ignoring that little voice that shrieked in her ear that she was being reckless and foolish—just as Marcus always scolded. What did she care? she thought painfully. There was nothing in England for her.
    “Are you certain?” Hugh asked, knowing he shouldn’t carry this conversation further, yet unable to help himself. This was madness. There were many reasons why he should get up and walk away but he remained firmly where he was. Isabel wouldn’t be the wife of his heart, but he’d be good to her and who knew? In time they might love one another, but if they did not, surely liking and respect would carry them through? And he wouldn’t face years, decades, alone in India.
    His expression troubled, Hugh asked, “What of your aunt and uncle? What will they say of this?”
    Her eyes met his steadily. “They will say that I am too young. That I don’t know my own mind.”
    “Oh, well, then,” he said dispiritedly, “it wouldn’t work.”
    “But it will ,” cried Isabel. “It doesn’t matter what they will think. Once we are married there is nothing Marc—they can do.” Her eyes fixed beseechingly on his, she said, “Oh, please, Hugh. I promise you I shall be a good wife. Please! ”
    Lost in her great golden eyes, Hugh’s good sense wavered. She was a fetching little thing…. He liked her…. He pictured his empty bungalow in India and saw the years stretch out emptily before him with only hard work and plenty of it to give him satisfaction; Isabel could change all that…. There would be children….
    His