Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance

by Britton, Sally

  His sister came up beside him, standing near enough for the baby in her arms to reach out and pat at his sleeve. “I think she is quite lonely in that house. Lady Olivia is not a warm or kind person. From our conversation, I think Miss Wedgewood might be a reluctant guest. I am under the impression her mother worked out the arrangement.”

  Isaac tried to shrug off the doubt, and the accompanying guilt, that his sister’s theory inspired. “You think the best of people, Essie. I love that about you, but I cannot say I am inspired to think as well of Miss Wedgewood as you do.” He watched a gull pass outside the window on its way to the beach.

  “She will be here all of summer,” Esther told him. “Perhaps you will have time enough to form your own opinion of her. An opinion that has less to do with what you think of Lady Olivia and more to do with Miss Wedgewood’s merits.” She stood on her toes and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “Come to dinner at the vicarage tomorrow, Isaac. I miss you.”

  “You see me nearly every day,” he protested, a corner of his mouth pulling back despite himself. He had received an invitation from Jacob and Grace Barnes, two of his dearest friends, but had yet to decide on whether to attend.

  That worried look came into his sister’s eyes again. The same one Silas had laid upon him minutes before. “I am grateful for that.”

  He needed to leave before she tried to pry his thoughts from him again.

  Isaac bowed, made his excuses, and slipped from the room after promising to come to dinner. The moment he stepped out of doors, he drew in a deep breath of the warm summer air, closing his eyes against the breeze.

  It should not be difficult to visit with his closest friend and his sister. It should be the easiest thing in the world to sit with them, passing hours in their company and conversation, but sitting still for any amount of time had become more and more difficult of late.

  Idleness did not sit well with Isaac. He itched to move. To do something constructive. There were hours of quiet in the war, but they had been filled with expectation for the next battle, the next set of orders.

  Orders did not come anymore. Isaac had to set his own battle plans, had to see to himself.

  A phantom itch on his left hand made his right hand twitch. But he did not reach to scratch the hand that no longer existed. It had taken some time, but he at last trained the response out of himself. Someday, that ghostly sensation would pass all together. As too would his restlessness.

  At least, that was his hope.

  Chapter 6

  When the invitation arrived from a Mr. and Mrs. Barnes to join them for dinner, Millie held it in her hands with absolute puzzlement. She sat at the breakfast table, Lady Olivia opposite her and Lord Neil several chairs down. The marchioness took breakfast in her bedroom, as she had every day since Millie’s arrival.

  No one looked up from their own correspondence to even notice that the butler had handed her a note upon her own silver tray. Millie turned the invitation over, looking for some hint as to who these people were and why they might wish her company for that same evening.

  “Pardon me,” she said at last, drawing Lord Neil’s attention while Lady Olivia’s glance barely flicked up from a letter she read with a smirk. “Are either of you acquainted with a Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?”

  Lord Neil’s chin came up, and he glanced to Olivia. His sister, for her part, finally put down the paper in her hands. “Barnes? He is our vicar.”

  “And a friend to Fox,” Lord Neil added, folding his arms over his chest. “What are you about, Livvy?”

  She slanted a glare in his direction. “Do not call me that.” Then the elegant woman turned to Millie, her perfectly rouged lips pressing together as she thought. “Is that an invitation from the vicarage? I recognize the stationary.” She sniffed. “Cheaply made paper.”

  Millie hadn’t noticed that the quality of the paper wanted any in quality, but she said nothing to this. “They have invited me to dinner this evening, but I have never met them.”

  “Curious.” Lord Neil’s expression remained thoughtful, but not unkind. Lady Olivia appeared almost gloating. “If you have not met them, I imagine one of their other guests for the evening asked for the invitation on your behalf.”

  “You are making progress,” Olivia said a little too brightly. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes make up part of that little club. How did you go about entering their circle with such speed? I am impressed.”

  As Millie had done nothing to secure the invitation in her hands, her insides squirmed. She glanced at Lord Neil, who only raised an eyebrow at her, and then lowered her eyes back to the neat handwriting upon the paper. “I will accept the invitation. If it is from a vicar and his wife, there can be no harm in attending a dinner with them.”

  “No harm?” Lord Neil asked, retrieving his cup of coffee from the table. He did not look at his sister again, but Millie instinctively felt he spoke to her with his next words. “It remains to be seen, but meddling with that group of people cannot end well.” He put his cup down after no more than a sip, then stood. “Good morning to you both, Olivia, Miss Wedgewood.” He left the room at a leisurely pace, as though he had nowhere in particular to go.

  “I am impressed, Miss Wedgewood.” Lady Olivia’s deep green eyes gleamed like a cat’s, ready to set upon some small, helpless creature. “You will have to tell me all about this dinner party.” Then she stood from the table, gathering her letters in her hands. “Good day to you.” She left without so much as a curtsy or another word, without giving Millie leave to join her later, or any sort of invitation to spend time with her.

  Alone at the table, with only footmen standing along the edge of the wall to fill the silence with their quiet breathing, Millie took one last bite of cold toast. A swallow of tea washed it down.

  She left the dining room, making for her quarters. Sarah would need to be told about the invitation; they would pick out a dress together. And then Millie would pass the hours until she left in the art room, inking out the design she had drawn upon the plain box Lady Inglewood had given her. It was the perfect size to hold a gentleman’s pens, pipes, or letters.

  If she did not go mad from the quiet, from the near-loneliness of being ignored, it would be a pleasant day indeed.

  * * *

  Word came an hour before the appointed time for dinner that the Earl of Inglewood had generously offered his carriage to take Millie to dinner. That explained her invitation. If the countess and earl were friends to the vicar and his wife, they likely orchestrated the entire evening. The generosity in her inclusion surprised Millie.

  What could the countess possibly hope to gain by inviting Millie to an evening among friends? No one ever did such a thing without reason, without their own motivation or scheme. Millie had learned that well enough in her time on the outside of Society, observing all she could as she tried to find her own way back inside those well-guarded circles of the elite.

  The carriage arrived at the appointed time. Sarah helped Millie put on her cloak, but the maid did not accompany her this evening.

  Millie did not wait to be collected at the door, which startled the earl’s groom who came halfway up the steps before realizing she was already on her way down. He did an abrupt turn and ran back down the steps to open the carriage door, bowing.

  With a deep breath, Millie stepped inside the equipage. Inside already, Lady Inglewood smiled her welcome. Across from her ladyship was the earl, a man Millie had never laid eyes upon before. As she took her seat next to the countess, her cheeks warmed. There was not a man she could think of as handsome as Lord Inglewood. Not many, at any rate. His hair was nearly black, his eyes a bold green, and if he ever showed his smile, she guessed it would cause women to swoon. As it was, his visage was stern, stony. As though he had never smiled a day in his life.

  “My lord,” she said differentially, “my lady. Thank you for having me.”

  The earl inclined his head slightly. “My wife has taken a liking to you, Miss Wedgewood. She does not ofte
n find someone with whom she feels such swift kinship.”

  Lady Inglewood laughed, the sound at odds with her husband’s stern expression. “Stop, Silas. You are going to frighten her. Miss Wedgewood, please forgive him. He has his House of Lords mask upon him at the moment.” She raised her eyebrows imperiously as she teased her husband.

  He sighed and crossed his arms. “I haven’t the least idea what you mean.” Yet a spark in one eye indicated those words might be a falsehood.

  Millie tried to make herself smaller and tucked her gloved hands tightly in her lap. Was banter such as theirs common among younger married couples? With her own parents and few others as an example of matrimonial life, she’d always thought marriage to be a necessary arrangement rather than a pleasant one. Thus far, her idea had been well supported.

  “I am glad you could accept the invitation this evening. I hope you do not mind that I suggested you as a guest to our friends. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes are quite dear to us, almost like family.” The countess continued her chatter, most pleasantly describing the vicar and his wife. They had been married shortly after the earl and countess and were expecting a child of their own before Autumn. “So there will not be many more dinners at their cottage after this one.”

  A cottage was their final destination? How interesting. The highborn rarely deigned to call upon those of lesser rank, let alone eat at their tables.

  When the carriage came to a stop, the earl stepped out and then handed out first his wife, then Millie. She followed the couple as they walked arm-in-arm down a small pebbled path lined with strawberry plants and daisies.

  The cottage, as they called it, was a small house of two floors. There were two large windows on the first floor, set apart from the door in the middle, and three windows above. There could not be more than six or seven rooms in the whole building, yet the fine couple before her appeared as pleased with their arrival here as Millie’s mother would at arriving at a palace.

  The door opened before they knocked, a gentleman near the earl’s age standing in the doorway with a broad smile. “It is about time you arrived. We have been waiting and waiting for you.”

  The earl tipped his head back. “The way we waited and waited for your sermonizing to come to an end last week?”

  Millie’s mouth popped open in her surprise while the men glared at each other, only to burst out laughing. She could not decide which was more shocking, someone addressing a peer in such a familiar manner or the peer mocking a man of the cloth.

  The countess caught sight of Millie from the corner of her eye and appeared to take pity on her. “Do not mind them, Miss Wedgewood. They have spoken to each other with such irreverence for twenty years. It is also unlikely any amount of respectability or old age will keep them from it in the future.”

  The vicar did not precisely turn sober, but his smile did turn politer as he bowed. “Welcome to our home, Miss Wedgewood. Forgive the familiarity between myself and his lordship. We still do not take ourselves as seriously as we ought.” He gestured for her to enter the house as the nobleman and his wife passed inside.

  “I thank you for the invitation,” Millie said, unable to think of anything better to say.

  “Any friend of Esther’s is most welcome.” He held his hand out for her cloak, which she shed most gratefully. “I am afraid you will have to forgive the informality of the evening, too. We are all old friends here, and we do not stand on ceremony when we gather together.”

  It sounded as though Millie was in for an odd evening. She followed their host, along with the countess and earl, through a short hallway and into a comfortable parlor overlooking the front garden. A woman waited for them; she was nearly of a size with Millie, though had a few inches greater height to claim.

  “Good evening, everyone.” The woman curtsied, then came directly to Millie with hands outstretched. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wedgewood. I am delighted you could make it on such short notice. Esther said she thought you the very sort of person to enjoy our rather uncommon company.”

  Millie’s lips twitched into a smile. It was not the first time someone had told her she might expect a strange evening. “I am pleased to be here, Mrs. Barnes.”

  “Isaac has not arrived yet?” the countess asked, taking her place on a chair near the window. “He promised he would come.”

  Millie’s ears perked up at that. She hadn’t been informed there would be another guest; certainly the countess hadn’t mentioned her brother’s attendance that evening. Had Millie’s invitation been extended in order to make the table even? With such old friends spending time together, that was an unlikely reason.

  The vicar and his wife took the couch, leaving two chairs remaining, and a rather large footstool. The earl took up a position near the hearth. Millie claimed the chair nearest the door, her back to it.

  “He sent word he would be here,” the vicar said, extending his hand along the back of the couch near his wife’s shoulders. They were all at such ease in each other’s company, a thing immediately apparent to Millie. Each of the four in the room wore smiles. Even the earl’s stern expression from the carriage ride had relaxed.

  “Until Isaac arrives,” Mrs. Barnes said, turning with purpose in Millie’s direction, “I would enjoy learning more about our guest. Esther tells me you have not been in our part of the country long. How do you find Suffolk, Miss Wedgewood?”

  “It is quite beautiful.” Polite topics she could entertain well enough. She had been raised for an elevated place in society, after all. “The lands are inspiring in their loveliness, especially at this time of year. I rather hope to spend some time upon the beaches soon, when I can find an escort.” The marquess’s family hadn’t seemed inclined to visit the sea. Lady Olivia had proclaimed the sand “dirty and most inconvenient to slippers.” But perhaps once the house party began, Millie could find someone willing to accompany her.

  “Oh, had I known, I would have taken you when you came to visit at Inglewood,” the countess proclaimed. “Our gardens at the house have a path leading directly to the sea.”

  The vicar’s wife perked up. “We have access to the beach from here, too. If we were not all in our evening finery, I would suggest a walk after dinner.”

  Millie experienced a strange twinge to her conscience. These women were quick to include her in their doings. Very unlike Lady Olivia, or any of the women of Society she had attempted to befriend in the past. But perhaps, if they knew her background, they would not welcome her without hesitation. Her place as a guest to Lady Olivia likely gave them no reason to suspect her anything other than a welcome member of Society.

  Still. The invitations were kind and gratifying. “I would be happy to take a walk, even in my finery.” Sarah might not appreciate the sand in her slippers, but a walk at sunset would be marvelous. It was still early enough in the evening, with dinner occurring at seven o’clock as country hours dictated, that it would be near sunset when they finished. Though the beach faced eastward, it would be lovely to walk along the shore at dusk.

  A door opened and closed, then a familiar voice shouted through the house. “If you have started dinner without me, I will take it as a grave insult.”

  The men in the room exchanged grins, then the vicar went to the parlor door and opened it, raising his voice as he spoke. “We would never dare consume so much as a crumb without you, for we would never hear the end of it.”

  “Good.”

  The vicar stepped back, opening the door wider, and Millie felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle the instant Sir Isaac entered the room. Her pulse sped up, though with anxiety or enthusiasm even she could not be certain. Did he expect to see her, or would he be as surprised by her inclusion as she had been regarding his?

  She rose and turned to the door, keeping her eyes lowered as she dropped her curtsy. Everyone else might be on familiar terms, but she was a newcomer and hadn’t been invited to drop any of her formal behavior yet. When she raised her eyes, her gaze immedi
ately clashed with Sir Isaac’s. His eyes were dark, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown, and no sooner had their eyes met than he turned his stare to his sister.

  “Miss Wedgewood,” he said, none of the prior warmth from his shouts in the hall evident. He bowed to her, quite stiffly. “I did not know you would be a guest here this evening.”

  Heat filled her cheeks, though she knew she ought not to let the baronet have such an effect upon her. His tone implied she had no right to her invitation. If he knew her true purpose in being present, how much more disapproving and cross would he become? She cleared her throat, staving off the guilty thoughts. The man had proven himself unpleasant to all but his friends thus far. Lady Olivia’s description of his character fit better and better with every meeting between Millie and Sir Isaac.

  “I could not resist inviting her,” Mrs. Barnes said, her tone cheerful. “There are not nearly enough pleasant ladies about with whom to pass an evening, and I knew from Esther’s account that Miss Wedgewood must make a fine addition to our conversation.” She started to stand, and her husband hurried to assist her, as her large midsection seemed to put the small woman off balance.

  “Men never understand a woman’s need for female companionship,” the countess added with a superior tilt to her head, as though she hadn’t noticed the glare her brother sent in her direction.

  A woman in a clean apron appeared at the door and curtsied. “Dinner is ready, Mr. Barnes.”

  “Excellent.” The vicar took his wife’s arm, and Millie caught his murmured, “Not a moment too soon.”

  She lowered her eyes to the floor, attempting to regain her sense of balance. She had every right to her invitation, to her place as a guest. When she raised her eyes, ready to follow the group into the next room for dinner, her heart leaped somewhat alarmingly to find Sir Isaac standing beside her with his arm extended. He meant to escort her to the table, despite his obvious disapproval of her?