Free My Heart Remembers by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

jealousy.
    She’d come along later in Mama and Papa’s life, and they had spoiled her. She acknowledged that truth without a hint of compunction. Their doting had simply caused Randolph to feel left out.
    Propping herself on one elbow, she leaned toward the table and twisted the little key on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Rolling sideways, away from the table and the offending book, she closed her eyes. As Mr. Heaton had said, everything would look brighter in the morning. Randolph would receive his comeuppance.
    She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

C HAPTER E IGHT
    A light tap roused Isabelle. She stretched and yawned and opened her eyes. For a moment she lay there bewildered, and then she remembered her escape to Glenn’s home last night. The tapping came again, and she offered a sleep-raspy invitation. “Come in.”
    Leaving the door open behind him, Glenn strode across the Persian rug and stopped a few inches from the edge of the carved walnut bed.
    Isabelle peered at him from beneath a rumple of covers, offering a flirtatious upturning of lips. “Good morning. I expected the maid, not the master of the house.”
    Technically, Glenn was not the master of this house, but he would be one day. His father’s wealth matched that of the Standlers’. It was only one of the reasons she and Glenn were such a perfect match.
    His muttonchop whiskers twitched, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, but why should a mere maid be given the privilege of the first glimpse of your morning loveliness?” He clasped his hands behind his back, assuming a formal air. “Did you sleep well?”
    Isabelle offered a delicate yawn, covering her mouth with slender fingers, then nestled into the jumble of pillows. “Oh yes, wonderfully well. Thank you.” Lowering her eyelids to half-mast, she gave him a contented cat smile. “I’m so glad I came here last night. I love you, Glenn.”
    “As I do you.” Glenn took a backward step. “I wanted to check on you before I left. I am, of course, visiting Randolph this morning.”
    Sitting upright, Isabelle clutched the covers to her chest to hide her ruffled nightdress. “I wish to go with you.”
    “Isabelle . . .”
    Ignoring the warning in his tone, she said, “I have a right to be there. Randolph is trying to rob me of my inheritance. Why should I not be a part of seeing him brought to task?”
    Glenn bit down on his upper lip, surveying her with heavy lids. Finally he released a sigh and nodded. “Very well. If you can be dressed and ready to leave in—” he consulted his pocket watch—“twenty-five minutes, I shall allow you to accompany me.”
    She released a squawk. “Twenty-five minutes?” Then she looked into his unyielding face. With a huff, she said, “Very well. Twenty-five minutes. Now remove yourself from my bedroom and send in the maid!”
    “See for yourself.” Randolph’s smug grin as he dropped the thick packet of papers onto Reginald Standler’s cherry desktop made Isabelle wish Glenn would put his fist through her brother’s nose. “I found all of that in Father’s safe, tucked in the back. Of course, I removed the Bible and gave it to Molly. It does belong to her.”
    Glenn lifted the leather packet and opened the flap. Leaving the pages inside, he thumbed through them, glancing at the documents. “How do I know you didn’t manufacture all of this to cheat Isabelle”—he emphasized the name—“out of her share of your father’s estate?”
    Randolph glared across the desk. “I have no need to manufacture anything. Take the papers with you. Show them to your father, to your lawyer, to whomever you please.” He swung his arm wide. “I don’t care. It will be proved Isabelle is the only forgery.” Striding to the window, he stared across the lawn and rose gardens. “For seventeen years I’ve tolerated the presence of that . . . intruder . . . in my home. Well, no more. The truth will come out now.”
    How dare Randolph speak of her as if