Free To Wed A Rebel by Sophie Dash Page A

silence as a response, for Sebastian rarely repeated himself and never made jokes.
    The table was sticky under Isaac’s elbows. He didn’t care; he was already filthy. “Is this old Lady Mawes’s command?”
    “Naturally.”
    “I knew she would succumb to her delusions eventually.” Ones about family and loyalty and kinship. “Here is the proof her sanity is finally gone.”
    “Do you think this is the first misdemeanour that has met her ears?” Sebastian kept his voice low, as if Isaac’s reputation wasn’t already tarnished enough, as if everyone in their immediate surroundings and in nearby towns didn’t know the kind of man he was. “We have had to clean up after you for years, with tearful women sending letters, turning up on our doorstep and telling tales about your conduct.” The older man’s frown was levelled at Isaac’s appearance: shirtless, dirty, scraped and cut. No way for a gentleman to present himself, no way for a decent man to behave.
    “You have?” Now
that
was a picture. He could only imagine his great-aunt’s face, her fury, as gossip spread and Isaac was firmly established as a rogue, a rake, a scoundrel.
    “The family name is under threat due to your actions.”
    “And this is my punishment?”
    “This is your
duty,
Isaac,” persisted Sebastian.
    And Isaac knew, with utmost certainty, that the man was right – not that it changed anything.
    “Whatever match my great-aunt is thinking on making, the Osbourne girl is better off without me.”
    Isn’t everyone?
    The woman had suffered enough without pledging her life to him – and Isaac had vowed never to marry. He had seen, first-hand, what such a union could do when it was broken. It was better to have a different body to warm his bed each night. Less risk, less pain. Love was for fools and love created fools. He had lost too much in his life to ever lose his heart as well.
    And, as far as everyone knew, he had no heart.
    “She’ll be destitute without you, cut off entirely – as will you.”
    “What?” The beer held Isaac’s focus no longer as his eyes snapped upwards and onto Sebastian’s.
    “There will be no more funds, no financial support, unless you marry the poor wretch.”
    “Fine,” he shot back. “I can survive on my own.”
    Better to be alone – it’s safer that way.
    “The woman you wronged cannot.”
    “She wants nothing to do with me and for good reason.”
    “It does not matter what she wants. The wedding has already been arranged a week from now, and I have been assured that Miss Osbourne will co-operate.”
    Surprise slackened Isaac’s features and smoothed away the hard lines. “She will?”
    It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything,
he reminded himself, though he struggled to believe it.
    “What choice does she have? She’s alone, her betrothed has found another, her uncle has disowned her and she’s been shunned by all London society. And, more’s the pity, her last hopes rest on you.”
    “Then she is doomed.” And he’d doomed her. He’d done this.
Ruth.
Guilt had hollowed out his chest and filled the cavity with lead. The girl would co-operate? That could mean anything.
It doesn’t mean she’s forgiven me.
“If I don’t agree to this marriage, I will be destitute?”
    “Unless you can survive in this…putrid fashion.”
    “I’ve coped so far.”
    “Have you?”
    Isaac took a long, slow drink. No, he hadn’t coped, not as much as he would’ve liked. Not since his time with the Navy had been cut short – his own fault – and he’d dragged himself down with the lowest dregs of society. He was an outcast. Too high-born to be accepted and yet not high enough to secure his own living, at least not any living that appealed to him.
    Marriage to Ruth Osbourne? She hated him. As she should. To chain himself to her was no more than he deserved, a penance, a toll to pay. He had put them in this position and the least he could do was to try and make amends, especially