You had better not read my letter.
She did not understand at all what had gotten into her father.
* * *
“Did you speak with her?”
“I did.”
“And…?”
Lord Gefferton shook his head. “She has her heart set on him. I do not think I will change her mind.”
“It has been years. Perhaps the issue will not arise.”
Lord Gefferton twirled his quill in his hand, looking pensively out of the window of his study where he had retreated after his talk with Isabella. “Perhaps…”
* * *
Emmanuel’s visit to the theatre had awoken memories that slept uneasily in his mind. Cold silver-grey eyes followed him in his dreams, never veering away from him. The eyes were strangely familiar even though he was sure he knew no one in his actual life with such arctic windows to the soul. The dreams left him feeling cold and bereft and he had no idea why.
He thought about speaking to his uncle about it, perhaps he could shed some light on whether the man was real or not. However, before he could, Lord and Lady Edric left for the Helmsfield estate, where they would prepare for the visit from Lord Gefferton and his family. There was much to be done. Emmanuel did not entertain often at his country estate and he had been content to leave it as it was.
The furniture might have been a bit dusty and neglected. His housekeeper was old—she had worked there since his father was the Duke. Emmanuel was reluctant to let her go. She was a crucial piece of his history and he did not mind the mess.
But now that he had guests coming, his aunt had undertaken to supervise the cleaning and sprucing up of his estate. He was grateful because left to his own devices, he would not have known where to start. Besides, he did not want to leave the city just yet. Not leave Isabella again.
* * *
Isabella heard a knock on her door and sat up, eyes narrowed, wondering if it was her mother come to placate her.
“Bella, open up!”
Isabella knew that voice well. It belonged to both the bane of her existence and the closest thing she had to a bosom friend. She scrambled off the bed and hurried to open the door. “Sarah!”
She threw her arms around her sister, who held on to her just as tightly. They stood in the doorway, just holding each other, in no hurry to let go.
“What are you doing here?” Isabella pulled back at last.
Sarah gave her a brilliant smile. “I came to see you. Did you not get my letter?”
“I did indeed. And you mentioned being bored in the country but not that you were coming to Town. How did you manage that?”
Sarah gave an airy wave. “Oh, you know I have Peregrine wrapped around my little finger.”
Isabella smiled. “You have everyone wrapped around your little finger.”
“Hmm, true.” Sarah spun on the spot before landing gracefully on the bed, ankles crossed. “Now come sit, tell me about this Duke of yours.”
Isabella gave a huge sigh, flopping down on the bed next to her sister. “You don’t even know, Sarah, he’s perfect.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect.”
“Yes, well, he’s perfect for me.”
“So why the sighs?”
Isabella leaned on one elbow, looking miserably up at her sister. “Father.”
Sarah simply raised her eyebrow.
“He’s trying to dissuade me from the match. I have no idea why.”
Sarah’s voice rose in her surprise. “Have you asked him? It’s not like Father to spurn a Duke.”
Isabella sat up. “Exactly! It’s not like him. I just don’t understand, Sister. Would you ask him what he means by it?” She batted her eyes pleadingly at Sarah.
Her sister gave a deep, put-upon sigh. “Since it is you, I shall ask Father what he’s thinking. But I am to meet Peregrine soon, so I will have to do it when we come back for dinner.”
Isabella squeezed Sarah’s arm. “Thank you ever so much.”
Sarah scoffed. “It’s nothing. Now I really must go. I simply wanted to let you know I am in Town.” She got to her feet.
“All right. It is truly a joy to see you.” Isabella got to her feet as well, ready to escort her sister down the stairs.
“Where is Mother? I should like to say hello before I go.” Sarah forestalled her progress towards the door.
“Oh, I think she’s in her chambers.”
Sarah flitted out of the room and Isabella watched her go, feeling quite bemused. Her sister was something of a gale, blowing into their lives and disrupting everything before disappearing again. Isabella did not even want to think about how she had managed to convince her husband to let her come back to the city. He had been quite adamant at their last meeting that she would stay in the country and learn to be quiet and demure.
Isabella had known it was a lost cause at the time but she thought Sarah would wait a little bit longer to rebel. She was relieved to see her, nevertheless, because if there was anyone who could get to the truth of her father’s feelings, it was Sarah.
She sat back down on the bed, exhaling with relief before jumping up again. She had not replied to Emmanuel’s letter and the one he had sent her was most likely still in the breakfast nook. It was time to retrieve it. Feet swishing quietly along the parquet floor, she made her way quickly downstairs, eyes darting hither and thither, not wanting to encounter her father again. She dashed into the breakfast nook and saw that her letter was neatly placed upon the table that had been cleared of breakfast things. She snatched it up and turned to leave.
“You should listen to your father, you know.”
She almost jumped three feet in the air, so startled was she. Turning slowly, she saw her father’s steward leaning against the Chippendale commode. She narrowed her eyes, wondering how he found the gall to even speak to her.
“I do not see how that is any of your business.”
He looked up at her, his cold grey eyes surveying her dispassionately. “Your father is a lot more experienced than you in the matter of men and their intentions. You would do well to heed his warnings.”
Isabella left the room as fast as she could. She did not want to listen to any of this anymore. She hurried to the sewing room where she could write in peace, hoping to hear Sarah as she left so that she could exhort her once again to find out what her father was possibly thinking.
* * *
“Father! How nice to see you.” Sarah walked up to him and presented her cheek for him to buss.
“Sarah. It is wonderful to have you here. I am glad that you were able to come.”
“Of course. When you wrote to me, asking for my help, I hastened to come at once.”
Lord Gefferton nodded approvingly. “You never let me down, Sarah.”
Sarah took a seat opposite her father. “So, tell me what is so awful about this man Isabella has set her sights on.”
* * *
Isabella finished up her letter and stood to go in search of a footman to deliver it. She was just emerging from the sewing room when she espied Sarah, coming out of her father’s study. Her back was turned to Isabella as she said her goodbyes to Lord Gefferton and Isabella wondered if she had already confronted their father over Emmanuel. She watched as her sister came down the corridor, head down, seemingly lost in thought. Opening her mouth to call out to Sarah, she hesitated, not knowing why, but suddenly reluctant to let her sister know that she had seen her.
Sarah passed within a yard of her but did not see Isabella lurking at the doorway. She collected her redingote from the footman, murmuring something to him, and then left the house. On an impulse, Isabella decided to follow her.
“John, would you fetch me a carriage? I wish to go out,” she said to the footman as she watched Sarah’s curricle take off. She was going in the opposite direction from Whitehall so it was unlikely she was meeting her husband. Isabella wanted to know what she was up to.
“Yes, Miss.” John gave a slight bow and went to alert the st
ables. Isabella shifted from foot to foot, impatient to be off and as soon as the carriage came to a stop outside the front door, she was climbing into it and urging the driver to go.
“We must catch up to Sarah.” She ignored the look of confusion on his face, pointing in the direction that Sarah’s curricle had taken. Don’t let her see you.” The road was fairly empty and to Isabella’s relief, Sarah’s curricle was soon in sight.
Sarah came to a stop at a familiar residence, nestled behind a thick hedge, with a crest Isabella recognized embedded in the archway over the gate. Sarah’s coachman alighted and rang the bell while Sarah waited and before long, she and her abigail were let in.
Her carriage came to a stop on the opposite side of the road and Isabella leaned forward curiously, peering out the window. “What is Sarah doing at Emmanuel’s house?”
Chapter 12
Surprise
Emmanuel was not expecting company. He especially was not expecting the Earl of Peregrine’s wife. He knew of her, of course, because Peregrine had an estate close to his seat at Helmsfield. The Earl was wont to call on him at Helmsfield for advice on pig rearing, or he might stop by to share a rare vintage from Emmanuel’s extensive collection.
What he knew of Lady Peregrine was that she was high-strung and was a bit of a social butterfly. The Earl had invited him to many a ball that his wife threw at Peregrine Hall but Emmanuel had not been interested. Now she and her abigail were in his parlor. He could not imagine what they could possibly want. He was not obligated to see them. He could tell Stevens to let them know he was ‘not at home’ but now he was curious and seeking distraction as Isabella had not—yet—written to him today.
This infatuation is getting out of hand.
He sighed, getting to his feet and limping over to the parlor. He leaned against the doorjamb, surveying his visitors.
“Lady Peregrine, this is an unexpected surprise. Is there some emergency with your husband?”
She stepped forward, looking very confident for having walked uninvited into his home. “My husband is fine, as far as I know. I am here to speak with you.”
Emmanuel cocked his eyebrow but said nothing. Sarah looked him up and down. “For a cripple, you really are not as hideous as you are made out to be.”
Emmanuel straightened up. “I beg your pardon?”
Lady Peregrine turned to her lady’s maid. “Anna, would you wait for me in the carriage, please?”
Anna hesitated, clearly aware of the impropriety of that request. Lady Peregrine turned to look at her, blue eyes narrowed dangerously, “Now, please.”
Emmanuel did not know what was happening but he knew that he did not like it.
“It’s quite all right. Your lady’s maid can stay. In fact, I insist on it.”
Lady Peregrine closed her eyes and sighed. “Very well…” she turned to him, taking another step closer. “There is no need to ruin Miss Addison’s life if marital relations are what you desire. You can easily get that by other means.”
Emmanuel barked a laugh, unable to contain his shock. “Marital relations? Have you taken leave of your senses? Should I have your husband commit you to Bedlam?”
To his even greater surprise, Lady Peregrine merely laughed. “If not marital relations, then what is it you want with her? She is young, naïve…she does not know what’s good for her. But you do. And you know it’s not you. So why are you courting her?”
“What Miss Addison and I mean or do not mean to each other is none of your business.”
“Oh, it is very much my business for I am my sister’s keeper.”
Emmanuel snorted. “Your sister?”
Lady Peregrine merely regarded him impassively and Emmanuel’s eyes widened with shock. “Isabella is your sister?”
“Indeed she is.”
“D-did she send you?”
Lady Peregrine hesitated just long enough for Emmanuel to understand two things; Isabella had not sent her, and Lady Peregrine was considering lying and saying that she had.
He unfolded his arms, taking a step closer so he could loom over her. “Who really sent you?”
Lady Peregrine inhaled sharply. “That is neither here nor there. What is important is that you end this farce. I do not understand why you are even trying to maintain it. What do you have to gain? You do not need her dowry and she has spent her life buried in boring old books. What could you possibly see in her?”
Emmanuel had to take a few deep breaths to stop himself from saying something regrettable. He could not believe Isabella’s own sister would speak of her in such a manner.
“What do I see in her? Her mahogany eyes that I drown in, the soft wavy lengths of her hair that I cannot wait to untie from its eternal coiffure and run my hands through. Her delicate fingers that she uses to gesticulate when she is talking about something she is passionate about while she keeps her eyes squarely on mine. Her freckles that dance across her nose and right down to her cleavage. I cannot wait to see if she has them all over. Her skin like an opal, so fair yet smooth, makes me want to run my hands along her arms just to feel how soft it might be. What do I see in her? The bright interest in her eyes when she listens to me. Her letters, as lively as she is. Her forthrightness. I ask you, what is not to love?”
Lady Peregrine looked quite taken aback at his speech, which was as it should be. “If you really feel all of that for her, then you should let her go. Let her find someone more deserving of her.”
“Sarah!” They both turned in surprise to see Isabella standing in the doorway. Emmanuel frowned, wondering when his house became a way station for wayward women. Stevens came hurrying into the room after her.
“Forgive me, Your Grace; I was hanging her coat when she simply rushed past me.”
Emmanuel nodded, allowing Stevens to leave, wondering what he had done to deserve this madness. He turned back to Lady Peregrine with raised eyebrows. “You were saying?”
Isabella pushed past him. “What are you doing here, Sarah?” Her voice was sharp and angry in a way Emmanuel had never heard before. He stiffened with interest, listening keenly.
“I am saving you from a disastrous marriage, Sister.”
Isabella grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the door. She stopped briefly in front of Emmanuel. “I apologize for this unforgivable breach in etiquette. I hope you will allow me to explain at a later date?”
Emmanuel nodded once curtly. He did not know what was happening, but it was better that Isabella contend with it, rather than himself. He moved out of the way to allow her to pass and watched as Isabella marched her sister to the front door. Once Stevens had closed the door very firmly behind them, Emmanuel shook his head, crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a stiff one. He drained it in one swallow, feeling anxiety twist in his chest even as the alcohol burned its way to his stomach.
* * *
The curricle bounced along the lane, silent except for the thudding hooves of the matched grays and the crunch of the wheels.
“You know that I was right,” Sarah said finally.
Isabella ignored her, keeping her eyes fixed on the horses. Her gloved hands were tight in her lap and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Everything turned out for the best,” Sarah insisted. “You know that I couldn’t love you more if you were my only sister, and he—”
“What you did was uncalled for,” Isabella growled.
Sarah gave her a sidelong glance. Isabella’s jaw was set, and her brown hair, done up in a tight bob at the top of her head—Sarah could not help but recall the Duke’s words on what he would like to do with it—did nothing to soften her demeanor.
“Of course I didn’t need to interfere,” she said sweetly. “But I wanted to.”
“You—” Isabella bit down on her words, but not before her brown eyes, smoldering with anger, raked over Sarah. “I had everything in hand.”
“Of course you did.” Sarah smoothed the printed muslin of her skirt. “That’s w
hy you asked me to intervene with Father.”
“With Father, not Emmanuel!”
“Well, in the words of Father, ‘Your sister is almost engaged to the most tedious man alive,’ and you, my dear Isabella, were all set up to be the most miserable—”
“Emmanuel is not tedious—”
“Oh, of course not, I forgot. No one with five thousand a year could be tedious. He is…eccentric. And crippled. And a strange, suspicious fellow—”
A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 10
