“One would think they would be more circumspect, at least with you nearby,” she said in a whisper. “What does the neighborhood think of their overly affectionate display, I wonder?”
“That is the worst of it.” He sighed and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Everyone knows they are in love.”
Her heart squeezed at the last word, and his gaze arrested hers.
Love. It was a terrible word, really. The word her sister used as an excuse to turn her back on the family, banishing them from their place in the world. Love ruined everything. Her sister’s actions kept her from wishing to understand, kept her from sighing over poetry and novels the way other women in her position might.
Yet when Millie saw this new evidence of love, as honest and true as what the earl and countess felt for one another, she could not think it all bad. And the way Isaac stared at her, a depth in his eyes that nearly invited her in, offering to make her a part of something different—
“What are you two whispering about?” the deep voice of the earl boomed through the room, startling Millie. Isaac jerked away from her, and she abruptly realized how close they had been, nearly touching as they spoke. Leaning in to one another.
“We were whispering about how torturous it is to sit here while you flirt with your wife,” Isaac said without apology. He leaned back in his chair and waved a hand to indicate how the countess stood with her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “You are nearly as disgusting a sight as Hope and her castaway.”
That was a puzzling statement. But Millie did not get the chance to ask what it could mean.
“No one is as demonstrative as those two,” the countess said as though she disapproved, though she immediately bent to press a brief kiss to her husband’s cheek. “There. That is an end to our flirting. At least until we are all at the dinner table together. You know how I like to flirt during meals.”
Isaac groaned dramatically while the earl laughed.
“Both of you ought to stop,” the earl said, “before you frighten away Miss Wedgewood. She will return to the marquess’s house with wild tales of how we conduct ourselves.”
“She would never betray our confidence, I am certain,” Lady Inglewood said, casting a glance full of mirth in Millie’s direction.
Millie’s heart sank. Though the countess spoke lightly, her words brought what Millie planned to the forefront of her mind.
These were good people. They ought not be brought low by anything of her doing.
How had she ever thought herself capable of such duplicity? She could not go through with it.
“You have my word, my lady,” she promised, sealing her silent conviction with her word. She caught Sir Isaac’s expression from the corner of her eye. His eyes narrowed, and he appeared momentarily confused. Perhaps he sensed there was more to what she had said than continuing in the merriment.
Millie would have to find another way to appease Lady Olivia. Or else disappoint her mother even more, returning home without having assisted in their family’s recovery. If they were ever to rise from the ranks of the inconsequential again, it was up to Millie to find a different way to lift them.
At last they were informed that dinner waited for them, and Millie was escorted into the dining room on Lord Inglewood’s arm. A member of Lords, a staunch supporter of agriculture, and the man often said to be made of marble, had offered her a sincere welcome into his home and engaged her in pleasant conversation. He was much younger than she thought he would be, too.
“I hope you enjoy your time in our county. The Marquess of Alderton’s house parties are famous for their entertainments. You must be looking forward to the arrival of the other guests.”
“I am afraid I know almost no one else on the guest list,” she admitted, her hand barely touching his arm. What would this powerful peer do if he knew her original purpose in befriending his wife? Kind as he seemed at the moment, his reputation as a hard man had come from somewhere.
The countess and her brother entered the dining room ahead of Millie and the earl, but that did not stop Lady Inglewood from replying to Millie’s statement. “I hope that means you will have many new friends, Miss Wedgewood.”
Millie accepted her seat at the small, formal table. The room was not meant for entertaining large parties. There must be another table in the house, in grander surroundings, for the sorts of fine dinners someone of the earl’s standing must occasionally host.
First Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and now Lord and Lady Inglewood had invited her into their homes on an intimate level. Though she wondered at her inclusion, she did not mention her curiosity. Perhaps they simply preferred smaller gatherings.
“Miss Wedgewood, after dinner we must show the gentlemen your artwork,” Lady Inglewood said after all had settled and began their meal. “I was never all that accomplished at the intricacies of ink on wood. It is not a forgiving medium.”
“Is that all you ladies have done this afternoon?” Sir Isaac asked with a crooked sort of smile. “Paint?”
“What Miss Wedgewood does is not quite painting.” The countess pursed her lips in thought a moment. “It is drawing upon wood, and occasionally woodcarving is involved, too. I confess, though I have seen the products of such work before, I never quite understood the amount of patience and talent it takes to complete them.”
“Too busy with your paints to pay attention to other forms?” Sir Isaac asked his sister, sounding terribly disappointed in her, though the sparkle in his eyes indicated that he meant to nettle her.
It struck Millie as quite a contrast, how relaxed Sir Isaac was at his sister’s as compared to how he had been the night of the marchioness’s dinner party. Perhaps his change in social behavior was due to his comfort in more familiar environs.
Whatever the case, Millie determined she felt more at ease among the people of Inglewood than she had in quite some time. Though she had been in company with them at the vicarage, and that had been a uniquely awful evening, Isaac’s acceptance of her changed everything.
She rose to the countess’s defense, her own tone playful. “Elder siblings are forever causing trouble. Come now, Sir Isaac. You must know your sister is an accomplished artist. Why, I have seen a rendering of you she created with charcoal, and she managed to almost make you appear handsome.”
Lord Inglewood laughed. “That does mark my wife as a talented artist, if she can manage such a thing for you, Isaac.”
The baronet lifted his cup to Millie, as though toasting her. “I will admit to my sister’s superior skill with charcoal and brush, and thank Miss Wedgewood for the compliment paid to me. For if she can find me handsome when my visage is naught but a smudge of coal on paper, she must be positively dazzled by me in person.”
Everyone laughed, including Millie. She had seen evidence enough of Sir Isaac’s wit once she realized he was the impertinent grounds man, and his more lighthearted conversation of the evening proved further he was not so stern a man as she had thought him at first. He merely exercised caution around newcomers, protective of himself and the people for which he cared. Most endearing of him, actually.
“While we were enthralled by paints and ink,” Millie said at last, “what were you gentlemen doing to entertain yourselves?”
Isaac groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Do not ask, Miss Wedgewood. You will force us all to sit through my brother-in-law’s long-winded explanations of politics. As I have already been forced to listen to him all afternoon, I would prefer you change the subject. With haste.”
The earl did not appear at all offended. “Miss Wedgewood might have a better head for politics than you do, Isaac, but as you seem to equate the subject with torture, I will leave it alone for the time being.” He turned in his chair to better face Millie. “We mostly discussed politics, Miss Wedgewood, and of all the things I should like to propose next Season. We discussed agriculture for a time, too. Nothing of great entertainment.”
“How terribly sad for you both.” The countess brighten
ed. “I have had an excellent idea. Day after tomorrow, you should both come and enjoy some true diversion.” She turned to Millie. “Do you think you can get away again, Miss Wedgewood? Or will your hosts mind? I thought we could spend time enjoying the seaside. And the gardener informs me we have enough odds and ends for a bit of a bonfire. If you can come, I thought I would invite some of our neighborhood friends to make an evening of it.”
A seaside bonfire? Nothing had ever sounded as exciting, as grand, as that simple enjoyment. Yet with her decision to not aid Lady Olivia, she may not be welcomed in that house for long. She had to consider the invitation carefully. “I should very much like to join you,” she admitted readily. “I feel I must ascertain if Lady Olivia would mind my absence another evening.”
“Invite her, too, if you must,” Lord Inglewood said, not at all enthusiastic. “So long as that brother of hers stays away, I care not who else comes.”
The countess pursed her lips, looking as though she might disagree, but Sir Isaac came into the conversation as though to head off an argument.
“The bonfires on Inglewood beach are always enjoyable. We can usually persuade a few friends to bring instruments so there is singing. Sometimes dancing.”
“That does not sound at all civilized,” Millie remarked, turning her attention to her plate. “Dancing around a fire, on a beach. One must necessarily think such things are rather wild.”
“With Grace Barnes in attendance?” the countess asked, a laugh in her words. “Never. I can assure you, Miss Wedgewood, we are all very well-mannered and respectable. The vicar and his wife will come, I am certain. Though Grace is not likely to take part in all the merriment, given her delicate state.”
As delightful as the evening sounded, Millie still did not commit to attending. “I will certainly let you know, as soon as possible, if I can be present.”
They took enough pity on her to turn the conversation to other things. Millie attempted to enjoy the simplicity of the evening, all the while ignoring the storm of worry brewing in her mind.
* * *
Isaac prepared to take his leave shortly after Miss Wedgewood and her maid left in the Inglewood coach. He had said good night to his sister and stood in the entryway, his hat in hand, when Silas appeared from upstairs.
“Isaac,” he called down, voice low enough not to carry far. “Do wait a moment.”
“Of course. Is something wrong?” Isaac tucked his hat beneath his left arm. He knew it looked odd; to place things there emphasized more of what he lacked than what still remained, but Silas would not care, so Isaac did not either.
Silas came down the steps quickly, though not with great urgency. “I wanted to speak with you about Miss Wedgewood.”
With nothing to say to that pronouncement, Isaac cocked an eyebrow at his friend and waited for more. They had spent nearly all afternoon in each other’s company and Silas never once brought up Essie’s new friend. To do so at the end of a long day was odd.
When Silas stood only a few paces away from Isaac, his expression easily read as perplexed. “I did not want to say anything before. I know Esther likes the woman, and she does tend to be a good judge of character. But Esther also gives people around her more forgiveness and compassion than most. I have tried to remember where I heard the name, Wedgewood, before. You moved about in Society before the war. Do you know her people? Anything about her?”
“Not really. Nothing more than what she has shared. Her family fell out of favor a few years previous, and her parents think that Miss Wedgewood’s time with the marquess’s family might repair those circumstances.” Isaac offered a doubtful shrug. “Society is fickle, so something as simple as Lady Olivia inviting Miss Wedgewood to spend the summer with her could restore whatever position they enjoyed before.”
After a moment of consideration, Silas conceded that point. “I suppose I understand that logic, though it seems impractical. But still. It strikes me as odd how little Miss Wedgewood actually speaks of her family. Yet earlier this evening, when you were all speaking of painting, she spoke of ‘troublesome elder siblings.’ As if she had one of her own.”
Thinking back on that moment in the conversation, which had seemed innocent enough at the time, Isaac gave a slow nod. “It may have been a flippant statement. But yes. The phrasing was odd.”
“I should like to know why her family fell from Society’s grace.” Silas’s eyebrows drew together, a hard line appeared along his jaw. “If she intends to mix with my wife, I do not want to discover something particularly nefarious. Esther has only just found her footing in Society, after all.”
“It cannot be all that dreadful if the Marchioness of Alderton has allowed Miss Wedgewood into her home,” Isaac argued, though why he felt the need to come to Miss Wedgewood’s defense he did not know. It probably had something to do with the sweet picture she had made that afternoon, playing in the gardens with his nephew. She had appeared so innocent and happy, and then a moment later, quite sad and lonely.
“The marquess openly lives with his mistress in London,” Silas reminded Isaac, somewhat icily. “The eldest son in the family gambles as though money falls from the sky. The rumors I have heard about the second son are even worse than that. And we cannot forget what Lord Neil attempted with my wife, or Lady Olivia with you. That family has few morals. If they were not protected by Prinny’s friendship—”
Isaac clamped a hand on Silas’s shoulder to stop his friend’s litany before it turned into a tirade. As a man of principle and honor, Silas deplored lack of the same in others. The elite of England were well divided between those that lived however they pleased and those who held themselves to a moral standard whereupon virtue was more highly prized than vice.
“I agree,” Isaac said quietly, firmly, “that Miss Wedgewood’s association with that family is a mark against her, at least from our perspective. But in all of my interactions with her, even when I was behaving uncivilly, she has conducted herself well and given me no reason to think ill of her.”
That much was true. Even her brief attempt at flirtation, while irritating, hadn’t approached inappropriate behavior.
“I know. I agree; she seems kind and amiable.” Silas rubbed at his forehead and looked over his shoulder to the stairs. “But I do not want to see Esther hurt by a false friend. That is all I am worrying over, like a nursemaid.”
“Essie would not appreciate that comparison.” Isaac chuckled. “Or the fact that you are considering ousting Miss Wedgewood from our company. Do not fret, Silas. Miss Wedgewood has been astonishingly open, forthright even, when we have been in conversation. If you like, I will see what more she will tell me in regard to her family. I will let you know if anything strikes me as suspect.”
“Thank you, Isaac.” Silas relaxed at last, the hardness fading from his expression. “I would appreciate whatever help you can offer. Your sister’s happiness is everything to me.”
“Thank goodness for that. If I ever suspected otherwise, I would have to challenge you to a duel.” Isaac grinned at his oldest friend, then finally took up his hat and set it firmly atop his head. “Do not worry so, old man. If I can face down a squad of French soldiers, I can certainly face down a woman such as Miss Wedgewood.”
“But the French took your arm,” Silas pointed out, his grin appearing. “That hardly gives one faith in your abilities.”
“So they did. But I cannot imagine Miss Wedgewood taking more from me than that.” He grinned slyly at his brother-in-law before bowing his way out the door to his waiting horse. He did not think upon what he had promised, or why, until he had nearly arrived at his own doorstep.
True, he had held some suspicion regarding Miss Wedgewood’s place among them at first. But as he had told Silas, after several interactions, he thought her harmless. He even found her company pleasant. Her laughter contagious. Her gentle smiles…stirring.
Millie Wedgewood made him curious. Silas had just given Isaac the perfect excuse to feed that curiosity. No
t that Isaac particularly needed or wanted to do so. Not at all. But—
“Anything to take my mind off of myself,” he muttered aloud in the semi-darkness. His horse twitched an ear back at him, but otherwise there was no indication given he had spoken aloud.
Perhaps all he needed was a distraction of some sort. Something to think on other than his estate. Another layer of thought to cover the memories of war. Yes. That was why the idea of coming to know Millie better intrigued him. The fact that he would put Silas’s mind at ease at the same time would only make the endeavor more worthwhile.
When Isaac retired that night, lying in bed, he tucked his hand behind his head. Staring up at the ceiling in his room, he conjured the image of the auburn-haired woman, delicately built, with warm brown eyes. Lovely woman. Still, the same niggling thought plagued him; however had someone such as she fallen into company with Lady Olivia?
Chapter 10
Millie went in search of Lady Olivia shortly after she rose, only to be informed Lady Olivia had left for the day to make visits among her friends. Although Millie hardly expected her hostess to pay her much attention, the information that Lady Olivia had left the house for the day without a word stung her pride. They were not friends. They were temporary allies.
The difference in Lady Olivia’s treatment of Millie, an insignificant person by nearly all measure, and Lady Inglewood’s, firmed up Millie’s resolve to end her agreement with the marquess’s daughter.
Wandering about the house, Millie tried to find a diversion other than the art room. As much as she enjoyed her artistic pursuits, she could not abide the small room, and had spent all the previous day with the countess at that work. She needed something else to distract her. Anything else to distract her.
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