But there was no one else. The earl and his wife had taken the vicar’s escort of his own wife as their guide, apparently. The married couples were exiting the room.
Hesitantly, Millie put her gloved hand upon the baronet’s arm. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir Isaac,” she said softly. He hadn’t liked her flirtation, and Lord Neil had said not to attack him head on. Perhaps humility would achieve more than flattery.
Sir Isaac tipped his head forward, acknowledging her words without returning the nicety. Disagreeable man. Could he not even pretend it was pleasant to lay eyes upon her again? Granted, she had given him little cause to like her thus far. Spying, proving an annoying dinner companion, and showing up where he did not want her.
What would a captain in the British army appreciate most? If not a direct assault, perhaps at least a direct conversation.
“I did not know you would be here,” she whispered as they entered the dining room with its large window facing a hill and the distant graying sea.
His gaze slid to hers, but barely from the corner of his eyes. “Nor was I informed of your invitation, Miss Wedgewood.” He spoke her surname with such distaste. It was not as though she could help what her ancestors had been called.
The table had six chairs about it, and the whole thing was round. No head or foot. A round table. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes took seats beside each other, the earl and his wife to the right of Mrs. Barnes, leaving a chair next to the vicar for Millie and the remaining seat to her reluctant escort.
What an odd seating arrangement.
The baronet held her chair out for her before taking his seat directly to her left. Before there was so much as a moment of silence, Mrs. Barnes and Lady Inglewood took up the topic of a summer gathering hosted at the Inglewood estate.
“There must be activities for everyone. Horseshoes, bowling, battledore, and a cricket game,” the countess said, her eyes sparkling brightly. “I thought I would speak to Lady Alderton, to make certain our plans do not spoil any aspects of her house party. But I do desire some sort of entertainment.”
“I dare say people are always looking for a good time,” her husband said, less solemn than before, giving his wife an affectionate glance even Millie could not help but observe. “What does it matter if they play cricket at our estate one week and then at Alderton Meadows the next?”
Mrs. Barnes lowered her spoon into her soup with a delicate air. “Men do not understand the planning that goes into these activities.”
“We do not want Lady Alderton to feel as though we are attempting to usurp her plans.” Lady Inglewood flipped a stray brown curl back behind her ear, then turned her cheery expression toward Millie. “Have you any knowledge of the schedule for the house party? It begins in less than a fortnight now.”
“In nine days.” Millie had counted each one carefully, hoping to have sorted out Sir Isaac before the next gentleman quarry came into view. “I am afraid I have not been given any details.” No one had told her anything, except the date on which other guests would arrive. At least that meant no one could expect her to take part in any of the planning, either.
“I imagine they will have all the usual sorts of activities.” Sir Isaac, at her left, spoke dryly. “Picnics, riding parties, visits to the abbey ruins, and evening entertainments at the house.”
Millie dared to turn a cheerful expression in his direction. “You sound as though you do not particularly care for those entertainments, Sir Isaac. Are they so terribly boring?” It was a shame a man of his bearing, someone with obvious confidence and good looks, would prove himself against the idea of diversion.
“You used to love parties,” his sister, the countess, said before taking a sip of wine. “And you know that you and I will be invited to a great many of the events, given our status in the neighborhood. You cannot avoid them.”
Sir Isaac dropped his spoon in his soup and gestured sharply to the earl. “But Silas can? I fail to see why it falls to me to wait upon the whims of that particular family. Or their guests.”
A blush rose in Millie’s cheeks and she lowered her eyes to her bowl, determined to empty it quickly. Sir Isaac included her in the distasteful group of guests. The man had absolutely no tact, and if he would insult her so easily she had no choice but to rethink her plan in regard to Lady Olivia’s revenge. How did one convince a hedgehog to cease his prickliness?
The earl answered the outburst after a moment of discomfiting silence. “I have my reasons for avoiding any event where Lord Neil is present. But I will not and cannot avoid all association with the family, or their guests. It would be social and political ruin.”
Mrs. Barnes cleared her throat. “Jacob will probably attend anything to which we are invited. I am afraid my excuse is quite a valid one.” She gave the bit of her midsection above the table a gentle pat. Her husband’s posture changed, as he somehow managed to appear taller and lean toward his wife at the same time. The affection with which he regarded his wife said a great deal about their relationship. He did not mind her reason for keeping away from Society in the least.
The conversation turned, rather expertly by Lady Inglewood, to other neighborhood matters.
Remaining silent, Millie did her best to not so much as glance at Sir Isaac. If he resented her presence, she would not give him greater reason to note it.
Why did his resentment affect her so?
* * *
When the dessert course was laid before him, Isaac perked up. The cake with strawberries and cream atop it was one of his favorites. Had Grace arranged for it on his account? He turned to where she sat, nearly across from him, and prepared to express his gratitude.
Grace glared at him, most pointedly.
As kind and gentle a soul as she was, the glare was disconcerting. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a reprimand, or a hint at what he had done to earn her displeasure. She looked purposefully to his right, then back at him.
Isaac peeked at Miss Wedgewood from the corner of his eye. The woman was calmly selecting a strawberry to spear with her fork. Clearly, nothing wrong there. After making eye contact with Grace again, he shrugged and raised his eyebrows. Then turned to ask his sister a question, but Isaac found Esther glaring at him, too.
What had he done wrong?
He studied Miss Wedgewood again, this time noting the tension in her shoulders, and along her jaw. Perhaps she was upset. What the other women at the table expected him to do about it, however, was a mystery.
“Miss Wedgewood?” he asked.
She jumped in her chair rather like an abruptly loosed spring, stabbing her plate rather than the strawberry she had meant to eat. The copper-haired woman put her fork down and gave him her full attention for all of a second before she lowered her eyes to his cravat. At least he thought that was where she stared.
“Yes, Sir Isaac?”
As he hadn’t prepared what to say and could not precisely remember what the rest of the table had conversed upon up until that moment, Isaac mentally groped for an acceptable question. “Where did you say your family spends their summers?”
The color in her cheeks faded abruptly, leaving her white. “Usually we remain in London. But my father has a house in Bedfordshire. We live near Woburn.”
“Ah.” Isaac hazarded another glance at Grace and Esther, but neither of them seemed mollified by his first attempt. As Miss Wedgewood’s dinner partner, he supposed he hadn’t been attentive. Yet what did they expect from him? Inviting a stranger, even if she was lovely, among them? He cleared his throat. “And what of your family? You are visiting by yourself. Where are the rest of your people?”
The smile the woman forced appeared uncomfortable. “My parents are yet in London, Sir Isaac. My mother quite prefers it to our country home.” No mention of any other family followed, and when she lifted her fork again Isaac relaxed. She did not wish to speak to him any more than he did to her.
After dinner, when the ladies rose to go to the parlor, Isaac remained with Sila
s and Jacob for coffee.
“Isaac,” Silas said the moment the ladies were safely away, “do you have a desire to be drawn and quartered?” His tone remained dry, and a lift of one eyebrow suggested he had no intention of amusing anyone.
“You cannot quarter a man who is already missing one arm.” Isaac leaned back in his chair. “What have I done to offend you that you would threaten me so?”
Silas and Jacob exchanged a glance before the earl answered. “I am not threatening you. Merely informing you of what Esther and Grace have planned if you do not repair the damage you have done this evening. Esther has taken a great interest in Miss Wedgewood, and Grace prides herself on setting people at ease.”
“I fail to see what I have done to upset either of them, then.” Isaac tapped one finger on the arm of his chair, considering the situation. “I have been polite all evening.”
“Polite?” Jacob asked, then snorted. “One of the first things you did when we sat down at dinner was to say you had no wish to entertain the guests of the marquess. You do realize that included the woman in our company, did you not?”
The memory of that comment came back, and Isaac winced. “I did say that. But I did not mean Miss Wedgewood. Not precisely. Though she has not done anything to merit my leaving her out of that classification of person, either.”
Jacob groaned and rubbed his forehead, while Silas shook his head slowly.
“You cannot be so dense,” Silas said, folding his arms upon the table and leaning forward. “Miss Wedgewood hardly said two words after that, though all of us tried to include her in the conversation. All of us except you. Of course, you did not say very much either.”
“My hope is that the ladies are salvaging the evening in the next room,” Jacob said lightly, wrapping one hand around his cup of coffee. “Otherwise, your fate will be settled.”
Isaac squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke. “I have done absolutely nothing wrong. A man can be quiet at dinner without giving insult.”
“Not if he made another guest uncomfortable by his conduct.” Silas used his lordly tone, the same one he employed when speaking to political groups. “We all interpreted your remark about guests to include Miss Wedgewood, so it follows she did the same. Then you remained silent, unpleasantly so, all evening. That curtailed her desire to speak. You have amends to make and asking the woman about her family will not suffice.”
“I agree,” Jacob put in. “You are going to have to do a great deal more to fix the situation, or none of us will hear the end of it.”
A pulse began behind Isaac’s eyes, thrumming at a steady tempo. A headache would soon follow. A dismal one, if he were to guess, that would leave him in pain for some hours. All because of a woman he barely knew.
Yet he saw Silas and Jacob’s point. “I would not upset Grace or Esther,” he admitted at last. “I will do what I can to set Miss Wedgewood at ease.”
The door to the dining room opened and Esther stepped inside. All three men rose, and Isaac’s heart sank. Esther was already sending a poisonous look. “Silas, I am afraid we need to be on our way. Miss Wedgewood has told me she is not feeling well. We must return her to the Alderton house at once.”
“Of course.” Silas did not argue, but as he went around the table, he made certain to meet Isaac’s eyes. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
Esther did not immediately follow her husband from the room. He likely went to inform a servant of their need of the carriage.
Esther came another step inside the room, fixing her brother with a sharp-eyed stare. “Isaac Fox, I have come to accept that you are not the man you once were, and that is understandable. But I am absolutely appalled by your behavior this evening. I have every reason to believe that Miss Wedgewood finds her situation in the Alderton house awkward and unpleasant. I had hoped to make her feel welcome among us, so she has a place of refuge while she is visiting. But your cold reception and lack of gentility served to show her she is unwanted here, too. It is most unkind of you.”
“I have hardly said a word to the woman,” Isaac argued, keeping his voice low. “If she wishes to be overly dramatic about the situation—”
“Overly dramatic?” Esther asked, voice pitched to match his. “It is not dramatic to find oneself friendless, Isaac. To feel alone. I thought you would understand that.” She shook her head, her disappointment in him settling like a weight upon his chest. “Good evening, Jacob,” she said to the vicar. “I am sorry we must leave early.”
“Quite all right, Esther. Good evening.” Jacob bowed, then cut into Isaac with his own disapproving frown.
“I haven’t any idea what you want me to do about the situation,” Isaac said when his sister left. “What any of you want me to do. I did not attempt to befriend Miss Wedgewood—I have no wish to befriend her. That was all Esther and Grace’s idea.”
The door opened again, this time allowing Grace inside. She sighed, hand at her back as though to support her large middle. “I have never had a guest leave with such speed.”
Isaac’s bravado faded. “Was it really my fault?”
Grace winced and came back to the table, retaking her seat there. “I am under the impression that Miss Wedgewood has a great deal to trouble her but being an unwanted guest has certainly dampened her spirits. I will not cast the blame on you, Isaac.” Then she offered him a tired smile. “Not the entirety of the blame.”
He dropped back into his chair. “Esther seems to think I was meant to somehow set everything to rights for Miss Wedgewood during her stay here.”
“Esther is in a rather unique position. I think she sees a great deal of herself in our new friend.” Grace raised her hand for Jacob to catch in his. He raised her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss upon them. Isaac lowered his eyes rather than see the intimate glance which passed between his friends.
He was happy for them. Happy for Esther and Silas, too. And Hope with her new husband, the two of them away in Spain for half a year now. Each of his dearest friends had found their other halves. Leaving him the odd man in the group. The lone bachelor.
While he might not understand Miss Wedgewood’s predicament, or her supposed discomfort with the marquess’s family, he could well appreciate what it meant when excluded from certain situations.
“I cannot like her,” he muttered aloud.
“Why ever not?” Grace asked, and Jacob appeared surprised, too. “You like everyone.”
“Not everyone,” he said at once. “Not people like the Marquess of Alderton.”
Jacob started to nod. “And Miss Wedgewood’s association with their family would give you pause. Understandably so. But we are not always like our friends, are we?”
“I found her trespassing on my land,” Isaac reminded them. “Asking impertinent questions about me.”
“Perhaps she needs another chance.” Jacob, as vicar, would have to suggest such a thing. Second-chances, opportunities to prove oneself changed, prodigal sons returning, and every other unlikely redemptive state of a mortal. Isaac had once reminded Jacob of a person’s need to both forgive and seek forgiveness. As Isaac disliked hypocrisy more than any other human fault, he had no choice but to follow the counsel he had once given to his friend.
“A second chance.” He rubbed at his temple again, the headache pulsing now against the backs of his eyes. There would be no sleep for him that night. All due to Miss Wedgewood’s appearance in his life. “Very well. When next I see Miss Wedgewood, I will attempt to forget my initial thoughts and impressions about her. Does that suffice?”
The married couple exchanged a glance heavy with meaning. It was as though they held a full conversation in no more than a single look.
“I think that would be perfect,” Jacob said. Grace nodded her approval.
With the party already broken up, Isaac did not feel the least bit guilty for leaving immediately after his surrender. The ride home in the dusk, as the sun had only just begun to set, proved refreshing. The sea breeze drifted inland, and he to
ok in deep draughts of the briny air.
Miss Wedgewood had intruded upon his land and somehow found a place among his friends, all while the guest of a woman he could not help but despise. Lady Olivia’s conduct, her morals, and everything about her character caused him to doubt anyone who claimed a relationship with the marquess’s daughter. But if he had misjudged the situation, and Miss Wedgewood, he would admit his fault.
To know for certain, Isaac had no alternative but to attempt to further the acquaintance with the young woman.
Chapter 7
After answering all of Lady Olivia’s intrusive questions the night before, Millie hoped to avoid another encounter with the rather upset noblewoman for the rest of the day. She hadn’t meant for her visit with the baronet and his friends to end sourly, but given his complete animosity toward her, Millie had no desire to remain near him until she formed a new plan.
The humiliation she felt, sitting next to him while he had scoffed at her, truly made her ill at ease. Not to mention his questions regarding her family. Always it came back to her family, to their reputation, to Emmeline and her mistake.
Thinking on it that morning, sitting at her art table with Sarah in the corner reading a book, Millie’s hand trembled too much for her to do the delicate ink work on the little wooden box. So, she had taken to preparing scraps of paper for quilling instead. Twisting the colored paper into tight circles required little elegance, though the placing of the paper would eventually mean regaining control over her emotions.
It is not as though you can befriend any of them. Not the countess, the vicar’s wife, or anyone else with a relationship to Sir Isaac. It was her duty to expose him to Society, after all. To find the means to humiliate him. Hurt his reputation. None of his friends would thank her for that.
Her enjoyment at their welcome was foolish. A mistake. One she could not repeat. If the earl and his wife knew of what Emmeline had done when she ran off with her ridiculous solicitor, they would shun Millie as everyone else had shunned her family.
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