Page 34 of Isabel and the Rogue

“But why?” she finally managed on a whisper.

Captain Dawson cursed under his breath, before he grabbed her reins and led her mount to the side of the riding trail. It took Isabel a moment to realize they were now in the park—she didn’t even remember arriving. Apparently she had been so distracted by her tumultuous thoughts, she had not been paying attention to the landscape around her. Gracias a Dios that her mare was content to follow alongside the captain’s horse.

Moving his head to and fro, Captain Dawson surveyed their surroundings, no doubt seeing who was close by. Aside from the groom, who respectfully lingered under a tree some distance away, they were quite alone. Isabel wasn’t sure what to think about that fact, especially when he moved his horse directly beside hers. Captain Dawson stared at her quietly for several tense heartbeats, his chest visibly rising and falling on a breath.

“Why did I find you in Westhope’s study last night?”

Isabel had expected the question, but not the gentle manner in which he asked it. Not the patient way in which he looked at her now. And hadn’t she just had an epiphany about Captain Dawson’s behavior toward her? He might be a rogue, but he had never disrespected her.

“I’m sure you are aware that my sisters and I were not happy to have been sent away from Mexico, and we’ve been determined to aid the resistance in the limited ways we can.” Licking her dry lips, Isabel continued. “Well, before we left Mexico City, I received a visit from a political ally of my father’s. Fernando Ramírez. You may know that name because he used to be engaged to Ana María.”

Captain Dawson’s expression clouded. “I knew your sister had been engaged previously, but I didn’t know the man’s name.”

“Well, Señor Ramírez had always been kind to me,” Isabel continued, doing her best not to fidget with the reins, “so I was curious when he sought me out before we departed. Padre Ignacio had told him where to find me.”

“Padre Ignacio?” he asked, his brows rising.

“Padre Ignacio oversaw my first Holy Communion, and later my confirmation.” Her memories turned wistful. “He knew how strict my father was, and through his shrewd persuasion, I was gradually allowed to spend more time at my studies, which he helped oversee. Soon, I was in the library at the rectory more than anywhere else, aside from my own bed. Padre Ignacio possessed books from all over the globe, and loved to talk about them and the new ideas they proposed. He showed me that the world was larger and more diverse than what I knew it to be in my little corner of Mexico City.”

“It sounds as if he was a bit of a father figure to you,” Captain Dawson murmured.

Isabel swallowed. “He was. He is. I still exchange letters with him regularly.”

“Lud,” the captain exclaimed, clutching at his chest, “should I assume then that your Father Ignacio knows all about the circumstances of our first meeting?”

A chuckle burst free from her mouth. “He does indeed.”

Captain Dawson hung his head in mock shame…although based on the look of chagrin on his face, perhaps there was some earnestness there, too.

She grew serious, though, fixing her gaze on the grass below. “It was Padre Ignacio who recommended me to Señor Ramírez.”

“Recommended you?” The captain frowned. “Recommended you for what?”

“To…” Isabel dragged her eyes to meet his. “Find something.”

He leaned forward in his saddle. “What?”

Pursing her lips, Isabel studied him for a long moment, weighing her options. “Señor Ramírez wanted me to locate anything that could be used to convince British noblemen to aid Mexico’s fight against the French.”

Captain Dawson’s brow crinkled and he tugged on his earlobe. “To blackmail them?”

Isabel raised a defiant shoulder. “If need be, yes.”

• • •

It suddenly felt important to plant his feet on solid ground, so Sirius swung down from his saddle. Leading his mount to a nearby tree, he looped the reins over a low branch, and spun about to face Isabel.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding what you’re saying correctly.” Sirius rubbed his temple. “This Mr. Ramírez—who may well have been your brother by marriage if your sister had not met Fox—wants you to steal about in the private spaces of peers of the realm to discover incriminating evidence that can be used to blackmail them. Did I get that right?”

This had to be a joke. A great lark of hers. Surely such a dangerous and important task would not have been entrusted into the hands of a young woman with no experience at subterfuge. Surely the people who set her to such a task cared about her safety and would not want her to be harmed. But why, then, would they make her so vulnerable?

Sirius wanted to put his fist through something.

“Sí, that sounds right,” she said with a prim nod of her head.

“Isabel,” he growled, stalking to where she still sat atop her mare. “What are you thinking? You have no experience conducting such surveillance or successfully navigating such delicate situations. You could be hurt.”

“As you can see, I’m perfectly hale,” she replied, patting the hand he had placed on her skirts. Sirius blinked, for he hadn’t even known he’d done that.