Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance

by Britton, Sally

  Somehow, she found her way out of doors, gloves in hand and a straw bonnet upon her head. She went to the stables, without any intention of riding, and stopped before a stall to greet the same horse she’d ridden her first day at the house. When she had met Sir Isaac for the first time.

  He had played the part of an impudent servant with such easy charm, even if his accent was rubbish.

  “What are you smiling about, Miss Wedgewood?” a voice asked, startling her from her thoughts. She turned away from the horse, withdrawing the hand upon its warm nose, and saw Lord Neil standing a few paces away. A groom led a horse into a stable; Lord Neil had returned from a ride.

  “Nothing that would interest you, my lord,” she answered, turning away from his narrow-eyed gaze.

  “You really are terrible at falsehoods, Miss Wedgewood.” Lord Neil came to stand beside her, laying his hand against the horse’s neck and giving it a firm pat. “Which is why I cannot surmise why you and my sister are acquainted. You are not Olivia’s usual sort of pet.” He withdrew and kept walking down the wide lane between the two rows of stalls.

  With nothing better to do, Millie followed along after him. “I cannot tell if you mean to slight your sister or me, Lord Neil.”

  “Both, I should think.” He shot a cocky grin over his shoulder at her. “Olivia for being foolish enough to bring you here, and you for coming. Nothing the two of you do together could possibly be counted a success. I believe your goals must necessarily be at odds. Whatever it is you are planning.”

  “And here I thought you were all laconic boredom and indolence.” She affected an innocent mien.

  He cast her a look filled with supreme arrogance. “I am everything a man of my station ought to be.”

  Millie hastened her walk to draw up alongside the man as they stepped out of the other side of the stables, into the open air. He made his way to the kennels.

  “Lord Neil,” she said, daring to place her hand on his arm to pull him to a stop. “I actually believe that. You are what a man of privilege and high birth should be. Your kindness to me, though you certainly try to mask that part of your character, will never be forgotten. Thank you.”

  For a moment, his eyes widened as though she had surprised him. “There are few enough who would accuse me of kindness, Miss Wedgewood.”

  “There is more to you than I think you let on, Lord Neil.” Millie released his arm and offered up a smile. He appeared confused, then his jaw tightened. Rather than continue on the subject of his character, Millie changed the subject with haste. “As to what Lady Olivia and I have planned, I believe you are right. I wanted to speak to your sister this morning, in fact. To tell her our agreement must come to an end.”

  His expression returned to one of smugness. “Ah, it is unfortunate I am not a gambling man. I seem to have a knack for predicting the future.” Lord Neil swung the half door open to enter the kennels, where several dogs barked and bayed the moment he came into view.

  Millie eyed the animals distrustfully, but as all were behind sound doors with slats in them, she kept pace with Lord Neil.

  He stopped before a door that led into another room of the kennels and turned to face her. “What will Olivia do when she learns of this end?”

  “I imagine she will send me packing.” Millie forced the lack of concern into her voice, though she knew her mother would certainly punish her for the failure. “As that will likely be the case, that is why I wished to thank you.”

  His expression turned to one of amusement. “Completely unnecessary, Miss Wedgewood.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You are the only member of the family who has bothered yourself with me at all. The art room. Your conversation. Even the warning you offered. So. Thank you.” She dropped into a curtsy and then turned on her heel, eager to leave the loud barking behind her.

  “Miss Wedgewood,” Lord Neil’s voice called, louder than the dogs. She paused and turned around, curious. He came toward her at a quick, determined pace, his eyebrows drawn down and his mouth in a hard line. When he drew even with her, he spoke earnestly. “When you speak with my sister, send me word. Livvy will not be pleased with you going back on any agreement she contrived. If I am there, perhaps I can keep the situation from becoming disagreeable.”

  Millie considered the offer, and the complete seriousness with which he made it, before giving a nod of agreement. He bowed and went back about his business, leaving her to make her way out of the kennels alone. As all the barking receded, her thoughts cleared. If Lord Neil offered her protection from his own sister, what sort of unpleasantness awaited her?

  She kept walking, taking herself out to the road. With nothing else to do, retracing the steps that had brought her into Sir Isaac’s path would amuse her for a time. If she should come upon him during her walk, perhaps he would not mind her company.

  She certainly would not mind his, now that her mind was fully made up she could more easily enjoy his wit.

  But to her disappointment, no baronet appeared to enjoy the fine sun or the lovely summer breeze. After a quarter of an hour, she turned back, resigned to another day alone.

  “Of course I am being silly.” She spoke softly, but hearing the words aloud helped firm them up in her mind. “And why should I wish to meet him again? We are only friends. Hardly that.”

  She was partway up the drive to the marquess’s estate, still nursing her unreasonable disappointment, when she saw a gentleman coming away from the house, on horseback.

  Sir Isaac.

  It was easy enough to recognize him, with his soldier’s posture. What was he doing here? Now? Millie’s heart lightened, the day somehow growing brighter around her. She waved at him.

  He hadn’t seemed to see her right away, his head lowered. The movement alerted his horse, and when the animal nickered, Sir Isaac looked up.

  His somewhat stern expression changed into a smile of greeting, and he rode closer before swinging down from his horse. He accomplished the trick without pause, despite having only the one arm. Her eyes flicked to where the missing appendage ought to be, then up to his welcoming expression.

  “Miss Wedgewood, I was told you were not at the house,” he said. Did she imagine the warmth in his eyes? He could not possibly be as pleased to see her as she was to see him.

  “I was out walking,” she said, though the explanation was unnecessary. She stepped closer to rub the nose of his mount, attempting to distract herself from the delight of seeing him. Withdrawing from Lady Olivia’s demands might make her situation more complicated, but it did allow her to relax the tight grip she had kept upon her admiration for the former soldier.

  “I am come to press the invitation upon you to join our friends tomorrow evening. My sister has instructed me to be absolutely charming so that you will not be able to resist saying yes.” He chuckled and tipped his hat further back on his head. “Though why she thinks my charm will have any draw, I do not know.”

  Millie slanted a look at him from beneath her bonnet. “I cannot understand Lady Inglewood either. But you had better make the attempt at charm, I suppose.”

  He grinned and then comically pursed his lips, lowering his eyebrows. “Miss Wedgewood, would you please consider attending the bonfire night with our friends? My sister and I would consider it a great honor.”

  She laughed. “That is what you believe your sister meant by charm? I am afraid I cannot qualify your brooding scowl as something that would entice me to accept an otherwise appealing invitation.”

  He folded his arm over his chest as he had the day before, cocking his chin upward. “No? Whatever else could my sister have meant by charm? Or by sending me as messenger instead of another? I am naturally charming.”

  “Perhaps she thought I would pity you.” Millie narrowed her eyes at him. “Pity Sir Isaac, who cannot abide to even be flirted with and so does not know how best to use his charm. You must not have very many female friends.”

  His expression as she spoke went f
rom shocked surprise to something else, something that made him turn pale and drop his gaze. “I have a few,” he muttered quietly, almost too softly for her to hear. What had happened? In a handful of words she had managed to send him into a cast down state, as though she had proclaimed a death sentence rather than attempted a jest.

  Millie stepped closer to him, put a hand upon that arm barring his chest, and looked directly up into his eyes. “Sir Isaac, I can see I have wounded you. I do not know how, but I am sorry for it. Please, forgive me.”

  He stared down at her, his eyes distant still, his jaw clenched over words or an emotion before he spoke, his body as rigid as ever.

  “Was it the remark about friends? Or flirting?” she asked, aware she stood too close. But he had to see, especially after how difficult it had been to gain his trust before, that she did not mean to hurt him. “I am sorry—”

  “You needn’t be.” His words were gentle. His posture relaxed again, and he dropped his arm, but caught her hand in his before it could fall back to her side. “Miss Wedgewood.” His nose wrinkled. “It is a horrible surname, you know.”

  She dared a smile, though she kept it small. “I know. Thankfully, as a woman, I might one day change it. But you, sir, are changing the subject. I was still apologizing.”

  “As I said. It is unnecessary.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. He started walking down the path, his horse following like an obedient dog. “You jested about pity. That word is not a favorite of mine. Indeed, I rather dread having it associated with me in any way.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes lowered to the path. “Because of the war? Your arm?”

  “In part, I suppose. Foolish of me, of course. Many a man lost an arm, and many more never even came home. But there is something to it, you know, when someone stares at where your arm should be. When someone pretends to ignore the way in which you lack the ability to function as a man ought to.”

  “Dear me. That does sound rather daunting.” Millie’s mind searched for what to say on the subject. She had no experience with such a loss as his. She had seen artwork in the Royal Gallery depicting battlefields in France, full of soldiers, lunging horses, death on both sides. It was quite grim. But she hadn’t spoken to many who had actually fought in the war, or witnessed such horrors the way Isaac had.

  “We all have our hardships to bear,” he said with false levity. “I imagine you could tell a few tales of woe yourself.” He offered a weak smile to her, which was not at all acceptable. He had been so cheerful before. So delighted to see her. Then he’d revealed a weakness, forced to it by her thoughtless words.

  “Not quite the same as yours, but yes. I’ve had my share of difficulties.” She tipped her nose up in the air, briefly wondering if she ought to return to jesting, if laughter would be enough to restore balance. But that was a coward’s way out. A fool’s. She was tired of being both of those things. “Can you keep a secret, Sir Isaac?”

  “A secret?” Isaac turned to his horse to take its lead, as the beast had started to lag behind to nip at the soft grass on the side of the path. They were at the road. “I think I can. Providing it does no harm to anyone I know.” He turned to her, curiosity in his eyes. “I cannot imagine you have too many secrets of a clandestine nature.”

  “Not too many,” she agreed, tucking her hands behind her back. “But you ought to know this one. For a time, and among certain circles still, I am a person to be stared at, pitied, and ridiculed. You see, due to an unfortunate circumstance, I am actually quite ruined.”

  His head jerked back. “What?” Then he leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “I cannot—do not understand.”

  She forced a smile, projecting a nonchalance she most certainly did not feel. “It is true. Ask anyone in Society about my elder sister, Emmeline. She ran off the night before her wedding. With a man decidedly beneath her station, and her prospective husband’s honor was damaged. He lashed out in every way he could, socially. Ruined my entire family. Father was turned out of clubs, had notes called in, lost several investments. Mother was given the cut direct. I was only fifteen at the time.” Her bravado failed her at last and she ducked her head, hiding beneath her bonnet’s brim.

  Perhaps she had miscalculated. She hadn’t spoken of her sister’s wrong-doing to a stranger before. But Sir Isaac—she desperately wanted him to understand, to see why she could not see a lack in him as other’s might.

  She knew too well that what a person could see on the outside had nothing to do with their honor, their virtue, or their heart.

  When Isaac spoke, it was quietly, almost to himself. “That circumstance explains so much.” He appeared as though a great revelation had come to him.

  “It does?” She tried to keep her surprise out of her voice. “What…what do you mean?”

  “The Marchioness of Alderton would take no exception to a reputation such as that, and the family is quite above any censure. The Crown Prince himself would have to deliver a harsh blow to lower their importance and esteem. I understand your presence here now.” Sir Isaac turned away from her, his expression darkening. “From what you have said of your reputation, they really are one of the few families capable of restoring that sort of damage.”

  Millie’s heart sunk. Damaged.

  Yes. She was that.

  There was no use giving him the rest of the story. He need not know exactly how close she had come to losing everything. She withdrew a step from him, moving back to the house.

  “Miss Wedgewood.” His voice stopped her from moving again. “Are you safe in that house?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the manor. Why would he ask? He could not possibly care. He was all cold formality again.

  Millie looked up the drive to the stately house, all shining white stone and tall pillars. “Yes. I believe so. Although I do not think I will be a guest there much longer. Lady Olivia and I do not suit one another. I believe she will ask me to leave. Possibly this evening, or tomorrow.” Not that he would care. Why did she bother telling him as much?

  “Oh.” Sir Isaac tucked his horse’s lead beneath his arm and finally fixed his hat, adjusting it to the proper angle. “Esther will be terribly disappointed.” His sister. Not him. Of course not. How silly she had been, to imagine—it did not matter.

  “As will I. Your sister is one of the kindest people I have ever met.” Millie did not bother to offer another smile that would surely falter and fall into a frown. “I had better return. My maid and I should start our packing.”

  Millie started away, but Sir Isaac dropped his horse’s lead to put his hand upon her arm. She kept her eyes averted from his, no desire to speak to him more, not after his reaction to what she had revealed. She ought to have known better. No one accepted her once they knew of her sister’s choice, of Lord Carning’s anger. The might of his family’s importance brought to bear against the Wedgewoods’ insignificance cowed many who may have thought to continue a friendship.

  “Then this is goodbye?” the baronet asked, voice lowered. Why did he pretend it mattered?

  “I suppose it must be. And good day.” She tugged away from him and kept walking, refusing to look back at him. Disagreeable, horrid man. Damaged. What if her family was out of favor? It did not make them useless. It did not make her worthless.

  Her brisk walk away from him became a firm march, her head tilted up, and she kept her back stiff and straight. If she withdrew with dignity, she would be well enough. At least until she had to face her mother and explain what she had done. Why she had made an enemy of Lady Olivia.

  But the marquess’s daughter had lied. Sir Isaac could not be capable of anything dishonorable. He did not deserve whatever problems her prying would cause. Lady Olivia had something against him, which reflected more poorly on her than it did her intended victim.

  It no longer mattered. Millie would get well and truly out of the whole mess, go home to the strictures of her mother, the wounded silences of her father, and continue as she had for the past six year
s.

  Seven years of weight, of worry, of being less than every young lady of her standing. All because Emmeline married for love rather than position and chose an honorable solicitor rather than a brutish lord. Emmeline might have escaped her unpleasant future, but she had left behind enough misery to make up for it.

  Worse, she’d never once tried to explain herself to her sister, no matter that Millie had always looked up to Emmeline. Millie had always been there for her, as a friend as well as a sister. Well. Millie was used to facing life’s difficulties alone. She would manage. She had no other choice.

  * * *

  Although Isaac had promised Silas to discover Millie Wedgewood’s secrets, it was to Esther that he went immediately after parting from the mournful Miss Wedgewood. Esther possibly would have insight into solving the problem her new friend faced. Isaac could assuage Silas’s concerns over the matter another time.

  But how to make certain Esther understood the situation? He could tell neither his sister nor his friend of Millie’s past. He had as good as promised to keep what she said to him in the lane a secret.

  But he hadn’t promised to leave the situation entirely alone. How could he? Knowing her story, and the sort of people who lived in that house, he could save her from being put out in a humiliating and public manner. Perhaps even prevent her from returning home a failure. If Esther thought of a way to help.

  The Earl and Countess of Inglewood might not have the same amount of clout as the Marquess of Alderton, but they both had friends in Society. Silas had a strong reputation as a man of honor. The couple’s championing of Miss Wedgewood’s cause, among a different set, might prove more valuable than the marquess’s influence.

  If Esther gave her assistance to Millie.

  Isaac entered the house with his usual casual air, and then wasted a quarter of an hour in search of his sister. Finally, he came upon Esther in the library. She sat at a writing desk near the window, busily scratching a letter upon paper. He entered the room at the same moment he called out his greeting.