Consequences

Part 42

Isabelle wondered how a couple of hours could see her feelings rocket to the heavens and then plunge headlong into hell. For that is how she now felt. Their engagement was heaven, while it had lasted.

Isabelle shrugged, looked at him with a measure of apology, then said very calmly, "I'm sorry they got you out of bed, I did not ask them to contact you." She saw that he was still puzzled. She got to her feet, "I am sorry for the inconvenience." She could see from his reaction that he was angry. And she really didn't want a scene. Not here. Not now. Not in front of these people. She kept her tone low as she said, "Perhaps you should leave. I'll get a cab when they're done."

He waited. She said nothing.

"Are you two together?" The red haired one asked. It puzzled her. Issy she knew was class, but this guy was clearly familiar with this side of town. And he seemed angry with Issy, and baffled by her behaviour. It was all very odd.

"Course, they're fucking together, why d'you think they called him?"

"What would you know, you dumb bitch! If you'd stayed on your side we wouldn't be here."

"Gemini! Rita!" Isabelle threw them a fulminating look and both women turned belligerently away.

She associated with prostitutes on a first name basis. That thought astounded him. Then he remembered that Charlie had said her journo friend had spotted Isabelle at the docks last night. And he remembered she worked nights, she'd told him that. No wonder she had a lie in. He wondered if that was how she'd got the initial capital to bail her family out in the first place. No tax, no records for payments. He wanted to punch something. His perception of her was undergoing a rapid turnaround. No wonder her family was staging an engagement. Who was going to hook up with a high class whore? Certainly no one from her upper circle. He'd been taken for a ride, or almost taken for a ride. He wasn't happy about it. Not one little bit.

"Officer?" Doug called, and waited for the man to appear. "Is there somewhere I could talk with my, fiancée?"

Isabelle looked at him and scowled. "I don't think we have anything to say to each other that cannot be said in front of these ladies." Seeing the look in his eyes, almost being able to read his thoughts, she knew that what ever might have been, had just gone down the tubes. This man would not want to be associated with her. She could see it in his eyes.

"Have it your way." Doug waved the policeman away. His temper was escalating as quickly as his heart was shattering, and both were unexpected, "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" He knew what it was about. He'd been set up. She was a duplicitous, highly effective con artist.

"You already know." Said a buxom, scantily clad blonde as she stepped nearer, and all but snapped irritably, "Elena's told you. She was stopping a fight."

At a loss for words, which was rare for Doug he spluttered and gestured at Isabelle, "Dressed like a, like a..."

"Whore?' Isabelle suggested quietly, her heart breaking in silence as she saw the derision and disgust in his eyes.

"Fine, a whore!" Doug snapped, giving vent to the temper that had been bubbling away just beneath the surface. He had been conned. How easily had he been conned? No one, least of all would have believed that he'd fall for this scam. "Does your family know about this? Oh what the hell, of course they do." He took three steps toward the bars. They had probably done some background checks, realised he came from this background, would most likely tolerate this lifestyle, and would therefore be up for marrying a high society belle working the streets. "That credit card thing was just a scam to reel me in, wasn't it?" He accused. She said nothing. Instead Isabelle tried not to fall apart. She listened as he made his thoughts clear. Just in case there was any doubt he accused,  "You planned the whole thing. I understand now. You are a prostitute."

Still she said nothing. Isabelle wondered why hearing him call her a prostitute hurt so much.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Asked the blonde as she threw Doug a disgruntled and disbelieving look. "She isn't a bloody tom, you fucking moron!"

Doug glared at the blonde in return, making his views on her opinions perfectly obvious without saying a word. The blonde huffed, then turned and stalked back to the corner of the room.

"You owe me an explanation." He did his best to pull in his temper and try to secure some degree of rationale behaviour. "It's the least you can do!" Though how she hoped to get out of this situation with a paltry explanation was beyond him.

Isabelle quirked a brow, "Oh?" She said coolly, her eyes never leaving his as she challenged with the hauteur he associated with her alone, "You appear to have already made up your mind."

"You owe me an explanation." He repeated in frigid tones.

"And why do I owe you that?" Isabelle cloaked herself with hauteur. The women in the cell looked at her and watched the exchange with open curiousity. The woman they knew as Izzy had never used this tone with any of them. This cool, haughty, arrogant tone. The noise in the cells dropped down to a murmur as more and more of the occupants tuned in to the fact something unusual was going on. 

"Because we are engaged." In irritation his fingers tunneled through his hair as he fought to stop himself from grabbing and shaking the bars of the cell in sheer frustration.

"It's off." She replied in her haughtiest tone. Her chin tipped up, her eyes cooled down.

"You're a fucking idiot, man." Yelled a voice from the adjacent cell, "She just works at the docks."

Isabelle nearly laughed out aloud as the words registered. "Thank you for that inflammatory remark Roxanne." She said dryly. Isabelle was close to rolling her eyes.

"I mean..."

"It's fine." And it suddenly hit her. If he cared about her, he'd have gone in to bat for her, liked he'd done for Ryan, and for his company. The slow crumbling of her heart escalated, "He's made up his mind." Sadness engulfed her. That kiss meant nothing to him. Nothing. While for her, it had confirmed her growing feelings him. Suddenly Isabelle felt defeated and depressed.

"He's fucking mental if he thinks you are a tom."

The other women started yelling at him and rattling the doors to their cells. It was a madhouse.