She knew it even though she was standing in a dark closet. She could hear the muffled sounds of the guests’ conversations and laughter through the door. Somewhere music was playing and she wondered if there would be dancing. The earl was having a house party. His wife would not be attending. He’d told everyone she was ill, and they had sighed in sympathy, pouting at the young lady’s misfortune. They’d hoped to meet the new mistress and catch a glimpse of her famed beauty, but poor Richard had apparently married a sickly thing, for she was never seen in public since the wedding. “What a shame!” The words echoed and echoed and Isabel struggled not to cry. She could hear Richard’s voice downstairs and she was glad. That meant he wasn’t nearby. That he might enjoy his party and drink too much and forget where he’d put her for— “Punishment,” he whispered behind her, and in the logic of dreams, it made terrifying sense that he was there.
