Isolde had returned to her beloved home some two months prior, but not for one day had she forgotten Lord Swenton. The baron’s image haunted her day and night. “You will save your papa a dance, Izzy.” Her father patted the hand she had rested upon his arm. “Of course, Papa,” she said with a well-practiced smile. Even so, her father frowned. “I would wish my only daughter would leave her time in England behind and find happiness with those who know her best.” Isolde was not certain anyone knew her as well as Baron Swenton, but she did not argue. “I am happy in Ireland, Papa,” she insisted. “I simply expended so much energy searching for you, I forgot to tend to my own needs. I am still a bit exhausted, but I promise soon to be my old self. Just a little more time.” * Although his madness told him to press on, John’s body had demanded surcease, and so he had reluctantly called at Lexington Arms. “Kratos is too valuable for me to run the horse into the ground.
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