A knock heralded the arrival of their tea, and they were silent as the maid set everything out.
“Let us be informal.” Her Grace poured the tea, and they each prepared their own cups. Noticing the dog on Isa’s lap, she said, “Oh dear, is Biscuit bothering you?”
“Oh, no, Your Grace. I am quite fond of dogs. He reminds me of my own dog that I had to leave behind with my brother when I moved to Lady Concord’s house.
The duchess smiled. “I am glad to hear that you are so fond of dogs. I’m always suspicious of people who are not.” She set her cup on the table. “I’m not sure how much you’ve heard about me. Are you familiar with my background?”
Isa thought back to what Lady Concord had shared with her and shook her head. “No, Your Grace. Lady Concord has often mentioned your mother as a dear friend, but that is the extent of my knowledge.”
“That is what I thought. Well, then you must let me tell you my story. I’m afraid it is a bit long and convoluted, but hopefully you will not find it boring.”
Isa nodded, eager to hear what she would say.
“Lady Concord knows a bit of our history. You see, my mother grew up in this house. “Isa narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought the house belonged to His Grace.”
“He likes people to think that, and he did own it at one time, but the house now belongs to me. Anyway, long before His Grace purchased the manor, my family owned the property. My grandfather died, and the title passed on to his cousin, so my mother and grandmother were forced to leave the house. They embarked on a long voyage to America to live with a distant cousin in Charleston. But they never made it that far.”
“Oh my. I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I feel as if I am reading a novel.” Isa bit her lip. She was so intrigued by the story that she had overstepped her bounds. Again.
The duchess laughed, startling Biscuit out of his deep sleep. Isa stroked his side, and he soon relaxed.
“It does sound like the worst sort of penny fiction, does it not? And it will soon become even more convoluted.”
She took a sip of tea before continuing. “My grandmother died during the ocean crossing, leaving my mother all alone. But luckily my father rescued her, and they live happily in the Bahamas and New Orleans, where his shipping business is located. Some still suspect him of being a pirate, an impression which he does not attempt to correct.”
“Oh, my. How remarkable that His Grace was the owner of your former family home.”
Her face colored. “Yes, well, it’s not that remarkable. We met for the first time when I broke into the house to search for a family heirloom.”
Isa bit her lip to prevent herself from voicing her wayward thoughts.
“I did attempt to behave properly at first. Suffice it to say, His Grace acted like a boar when I called on him and refused to see me, so I took matters into my own hands.” She glanced up and smiled. “It did work out rather well for me in the end.”
“I should think so.” Perhaps there was some hope for Isa to find a happy ending of her own.
The duchess fiddled with her tea for a moment. “In any case, I wanted you to know my background. I am not of noble blood, and in fact there are many here who believe me to be the daughter of a pirate. Of course, none of them would dare say so in front of His Grace.”
She took Isa’s hand. “I am very inarticulate this evening, but what I am trying to say is that it is not necessary for you to be demure. Despite your best intentions to remain unnoticed, I recognized you immediately as a kindred spirit. I hope that sharing my own background with you will allow you to be more comfortable with me.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” For one wild moment, she considered telling the duchess her story. But she could not risk it. Not until George was able to get out of debt. Perhaps someday she would be able to take her rightful place in society, but not yet.
“I very much appreciate you sharing your story with me. I shall remain hopeful that one day I might find a happy ending of my own.” Not wanting to sound ungrateful for her position with Lady Concord, she added, “Of course, it’s not as if working for Lady Concord is a burden. She is a kind and generous lady.”
“Of course, my dear.” She patted Isa’s hand. “Do you by chance enjoy reading?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“I thought as much, since you keep glancing at my books. Then I need to show you the library. You may go there at any time and read anything you choose.” She drained her teacup and stood. “Are you ready?”
Isa nodded and stood. She wasn’t at all surprised when Biscuit followed her down the corridor and into the most fantastic library she had ever seen in a private home. It wasn’t just that it was enormous with rows and rows of books, but it was filled with large, cushioned furniture that one could curl up in, and a gargantuan fireplace that kept the room cozy and provided enough light to make lamps unnecessary, even after the sun set.
The duchess swept her arm toward the nearest shelves. “There are books on nearly every subject you can imagine, especially with respect to science and history. The novels are over on the far wall.”
The number of books nearly overwhelmed her. Isa was giddy with the possibilities. Lady Concord enjoyed being read to, but it took them weeks to get through even one novel. She ran her hand down the spine of Don Quixote, which was one of her favorites, then came upon all of Jane Austen’s works, which she had read many times.
Then she found it. The Count of Monte Cristo. It was on the list she had made to keep track of the books she read with Lady Concord, but she could not pass up the chance to read it now. Though Lady Concord was very generous, reading aloud to her at such a slow pace didn’t completely fulfill Isa’s desire to escape into other worlds. After gently removing it from the shelf, she ran her hand over the cover.
The duchess moved to stand next to her. “You have not read it yet?”
Isa shook her head.
“Then you must take it. We also have The Three Musketeers if you’re interested.” She slid it from the shelf and handed it to Isa. “Don’t be shy. You may take as many books as you want up to your chamber. I’m not sure if any of the ladies we’ve invited to the party are avid readers, but since you arrived first, you shall get the first selection.”
Isa bit her lower lip. They had long since sold off the contents of the library at home, not to mention most of the furnishings, so George could complete necessary repairs to the house.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I cannot imagine a pleasure more acute than spending hours lost in a story.” She was very lucky to have an employer who not only shared her love of books but also gave her ample free time to read on her own.
“Take as many as you like and enjoy yourself.” She yawned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it is past time for me to retire. If I wait much longer, His Grace will come looking for me.”
“Good night,” Isa said as the duchess swept from the room. Though she had made it clear that Isa could take as many books as she liked, she didn’t wish to deprive the other guests, so she selected a few of her old favorites as well, including Ivanhoe and Oliver Twist, which Lady Concord had grown bored with so they never finished. Four books ought to be enough to keep her busy for the duration of the house party, but she took one last look to see if there were any other novels she couldn’t pass by.
Strange. A book with no writing or defining marks on the outside was nearly hidden between The Ugly Duckling and A Christmas Carol. After running her hand down the smooth spine, she gently pulled it from the shelf. The leather was soft and worn in several places. She marshaled the courage to take a glance inside and found that it was a journal or diary of some sort.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t right for her to read someone’s diary. Surely it had been left here by accident. She hazarded a glance at the first page. It was simply an account of the dinner the author had planned for that evening, which led Isa to believe the journal belonged to a lady. After skimming thr
ough more than a third of the book, she came across a date. A house party that was held at Walsley in June of 1721. The journal must have belonged to one of Her Grace’s ancestors, perhaps a great-aunt or great-grandmother.
No, it was wrong of her to read the journal, even if the author was long gone. Isa placed it back on the shelf and turned toward her stack of books, then stopped.
Her Grace had made it clear that Isa was welcome to read anything she wanted from the library, and if Her Grace had wished for it to remain private, surely she wouldn’t have left it in the library for anyone to discover. Removing it from the shelf once again, she decided it wouldn’t do any harm to read a bit more. She had always been fascinated by history, and how better to learn than through a personal account of the times.
Before delving into the journal, she settled onto the settee and tucked a pillow behind her back to make herself comfortable. As an afterthought, she slipped off her half boots and lifted her feet onto the large piece of furniture. Biscuit immediately jumped up and curled himself against her legs. Skimming the pages about household accounts and gardening allowed her to get through another third of the book quickly. As she turned another page, the words leaped out at her.
“Not only has Walsley discovered the identity of my beau, but he is demanding that I give him the tiara. He plans to sell it, but I will never surrender it to him. It has been hidden.”
Isa sat up straight. Tiara? Her beau? The duchess was correct that her family story read like a penny novel. She skimmed the next page and several more after that, until she reached a section that contained a clue as to where she had hidden the tiara.
“Begin where warmth abounds. Very close, yet worlds away, it is no place for the meek.”
Isa repeated the words to herself. An oven? The fireplace? Glancing toward the fireplace in the library, which needed to be stoked, she noted the painting hanging above it. Could the clue refer to a painting? To the painting that hung above the fireplace? No. Upon closer inspection, the painting was of the current Duke and Duchess of Boulstridge. But surely another painting had once hung in that position.
Isa stood and stretched. She wished the duchess were still awake, as she wasn’t sure she could sleep until she knew if the tiara had ever been found. Plunking herself back on the settee, she continued to read, searching for more clues. The room began to cool, and she pulled the blanket over her. As her eyelids grew heavier, she decided she ought to go to bed so she could get some sleep before Lady Concord needed her. She would just read one more page. The words began to blur, and she let her eyes flutter closed. It wouldn’t hurt to rest for just a few moments before heading to her bedchamber.
Chapter Three
Edward ought to have timed his arrival better. Or perhaps he ought to have left London earlier. Though he certainly did not need someone to look after him, it might be a bit of a surprise to the household when he appeared in the morning. In fact, the barest of pink light had begun to peek over the eastern horizon. Morning was nearly upon them, and he hadn’t slept at all. Perhaps he would delay his appearance until afternoon. A bit of sleep would do him some good, and neither he nor those who were invited to attend the house party were expected for several days.
Not wanting to wake any of the servants, he tiptoed past the library before remembering that Mother had written to let him know that she had obtained the full translation of The Count of Monte Cristo. After retracing his steps, he placed his palm against the unlatched door and gently pushed it open, then stopped as if he had run into a wall.
Someone was asleep on the settee. Someone young and female. Someone with whom he was not acquainted.
As her breath whispered in and out, he realized there was an immediate intimacy in watching another person sleep. Something stirred inside him. She wasn’t necessarily conventionally beautiful. Her light brown hair was rather ordinary in color, though the flickering fire revealed strands of both red and amber, and her mouth was wider and her lips fuller than normal. They were the sort of lips that were meant to be kissed, to feel trailing along one’s—
Good grief. So she was intriguing. But who was she? The guests for the house party weren’t set to arrive for another week. He took a step closer, and Biscuit trotted over to greet him. He bent down to give him a pat. Wait. What was she holding? He inched closer. Blood surged past his temples. It was the journal. He towered over her, waiting for the weight of his ire to wake her.
The woman’s lids popped open within seconds, and she focused on him immediately, her eyes wide with…terror?
“How dare you,” he practically shouted.
To her credit, she did not panic. After rubbing her eyes and refocusing her gaze on him, she calmly said, “I beg your pardon?”
He crossed his arms. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my library?”
“I could ask you the same question. Well, except for the library, which is most certainly not mine.” She stood and stretched, arching her back in a most tantalizing fashion before continuing. “But it’s not your library, either.” She looked him up and down. “Who are you?”
He forced his gaze away from her breasts, which were more exposed than she probably realized, as her gown had slipped off one shoulder. Perhaps he ought to have told her, but the view was quite appealing. He shook his head and went back to the matter at hand. “I am Lord Kenworth. Who are you?”
“Oh, dear. I am no one of consequence.” She glanced around the settee then continued. “The duchess gave me full access to the library last night, and I’m afraid I must have fallen asleep.” She stood and picked up a stack of novels and moved to pass him. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go tend to Lady Concord.”
He sidestepped to block her exit and noted that one of the books she had chosen was the first volume of The Count of Monte Cristo. “Just a moment, if you please. What are you doing with that journal?”
“Oh.” She turned back and lifted it from the cushion. “I found it between two of the novels on the shelf. It was quite diverting and—”
Ire swirled through his stomach. He crossed his arms. “Are you a simpleton?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.
“You don’t look like one, but you must be to think that you can waltz into someone else’s library and delve into a private journal with no compunction whatsoever.”
She lifted her chin. “Now wait just a moment.” She set the books down and crossed her arms over her chest. “I will thank you not to insult me. I was invited by the Duchess of Boulstridge to read anything I liked from the shelves of her library.”
“Yes, well, my mother can sometimes be overly accommodating to our guests, but that hardly exonerates you.”
“She was very specific that I…your mother?”
“Yes.” He raised his brows and let that sink in for a moment. “In any case, you ought to have known that it was a private family journal and should have had the decency to refrain from reading it.”
“It is more than a century old. Who am I hurting by reading it? And why is it in the library if it is meant to be kept private?”
“I…that is…” He completely lost his train of thought as rapid footsteps sounded in the corridor.
His mother swept through the open door. “Good morning, darling. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek then turned to their unwelcome guest. “Isabella, did you spent the night in my library?” She laughed.
“I’m afraid so, Your Grace.” She glanced at Edward before continuing. “Apparently my presence here has caused offense. I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds.” She ducked her head and moved toward the door with Biscuit trailing behind her. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”
“Wait, Isabella. I don’t understand.” She turned on him. “What have you done?”
“Mother, I caught her reading the journal.”
“And?”
“And it is an inexcusable breach of etiquette.”
“An ‘inexcusable
breach of etiquette’? Since when did you become a judge of appropriate behavior?”
The wretched girl, apparently called Isabella, slapped a hand over her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to quell her laughter.
“I am sorry my son was so rude to you.” She glanced at his face. “Though it is no excuse, he appears to have traveled all night and is likely a bit out of sorts. If it helps, the Boulstridge men never seem to make a good first impression. I wanted to strangle His Grace the day we first met, and Edward is very much like his father.”
Edward sighed. He wasn’t the one behaving inappropriately.
“It is no matter, Your Grace.” She shot him a side-eyed look then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, was the tiara ever found?”
“No.” Mother walked over to the interloper. “How much of the journal did you read?”
“I fell asleep somewhere after the riddle was revealed.”
“Ah, but there is more than one riddle. Perhaps you should read the rest of the journal.”
Edward took a step forward. “Absolutely not. Mother, what are you thinking?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That having another person read the clues, someone who doesn’t have a stake in the matter, might be helpful to us.”
“No, I must insist—”
The girl stepped forward. “Do not worry, my lord. I can see that I am not wanted here, and in any case, my duty is to Lady Concord, who is likely even now wondering where I am.” She curtsied to his mother. “Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to explore your library. It has been a pleasure.” She simply glared at him and exited the room without addressing him. Biscuit glanced at Edward, then made his decision and sped out of the room after her.
“Well, you’ve certainly made an excellent first impression on Miss Winthrop.”
“I don’t give a fig what impression that woman has of me. She is very bold for a servant, for heaven’s sake.”
“Darling, she is not a servant. She is Lady Concord’s companion.”
How to Bewitch an Earl Page 2
