“She does appear a rather downtrodden creature.” Millie kept the pillow in place and took up a book from the small table beside her chair. It was nothing more than a collection of poetry, and not by a poet she recognized. It seemed anyone who wished could get a book published. “If Lady Olivia found my sister, I would like to know where Emmie is, and how she is getting on with her husband. I wonder if she has children. I might be an aunt and not even know it.”
“More’s the pity, miss.” Sarah shook her head, true sympathy in her tone. “But it’s good you’re thinking on it at all. Maybe you should ask Lady Olivia where your sister is.”
“She would never tell me.”
“Then maybe you ought to see if you can find out in another way.” Sarah said the words slowly, each dripping with hidden meaning. “Maybe that’s how you can take care of that Mr. Weston. Perhaps some spying is in order, miss.”
Millie went cold. “Do you mean violate their privacy? Search their things?”
Sarah put on a rather crooked smile. “Or find a servant what would do it for a price. There are more’n a few in this house not paid a fair wage. I imagine I could find someone to help.”
“That is a dangerous suggestion.” Millie turned the idea over in her mind. “But not without merit. I will put the idea to Isaac. I have bungled everything so far. I do not trust my own judgement.”
Sarah’s grin widened. “Ah. Sir Isaac would be the perfect person to ask. It’s the best excuse I ever heard for meeting with a handsome—”
Millie’s pillow, tossed by the blushing woman at the maid, halted Sarah’s sentence. But it did nothing to stop the way her stomach flipped and turned when she thought of Sir Isaac’s incredible kiss. It was a shame he’d only meant to teach her a lesson by it.
As complicated as her situation was, Millie could not help but entertain the tiniest hope that perhaps there were other lessons he wished to teach her that ended in a kiss.
Chapter 17
Drumming his fingers on the desk before him, Isaac glared down at the letters on the shiny, oak surface. The letters themselves were not particularly offensive. But Isaac’s thoughts had wandered far from their words to those Millie had shared with him in the carriage the day before.
On a mission to elevate her family, saving them from the fall they had suffered after the viscount turned against them, Millie had made poor choices. He did not deny that. Nor did he condone it. But when she had come to the realization of her folly, had tried to correct it, she had been trapped into her agreement with Lady Olivia and her cronies.
A way to help her had to exist. If he could settle on the right course of action, he could free her from the agreement. Grace Barnes would know what to do. The woman was a natural strategist. But Isaac had made a promise which prohibited him from speaking to any of his friends of the trouble Millie faced.
He pushed away from the desk, taking a book from its surface with him. Isaac went to the bookshelves and returned the book to its place.
A knock at the door made him turn, almost with gratitude, to answer. “Come.”
The butler entered the room and bowed. “Sir. A Miss Wedgewood to see you.”
Isaac drew himself up. To call on a single gentleman, on her own—
“But she insisted upon waiting outside, sir,” the butler added before Isaac’s thoughts ventured down an uncomfortable path.
“Oh. Very good. I shall step out directly.” The butler bowed and left. Isaac tugged at his waistcoat as he followed, then he paused before a mirror hanging in the corridor. His hair was mussed, his cravat in fair shape, and nothing else was amiss with his appearance. He attempted to smooth his hair back, but then noticed his butler standing a few feet further in the corridor, watching.
Isaac straightened from the mirror and lifted his chin in the air, as though unconcerned, and passed the butler at a quick clip to get to the door. He opened it himself and stepped into the light of the early afternoon sun.
Millie wore the raspberry dress he had seen before, when she called upon Esther, with a floral shawl upon her shoulders. She faced slightly away from the door, her eyes upon something at the side of the house.
“Millie.” It was much easier to speak that familiar name than stumble through the whole of her formal address. It suited her better, too. Suited the smile she bestowed upon him when she turned around to greet him. “I am glad to see you.”
“That is a relief to hear.” She held her hand out in response to his approach. Without thought he took it in his ungloved hand. “I was forced from the house today by Lady Olivia. All the male guests are out upon the sea today, and the ladies are meant to sew and arrange flowers.” She sighed deeply. “I am to be on task.”
He brought her closer, drawing her to his side. “If Mr. Weston is not available, it makes perfect sense to dispatch you after the other man.” He kept his tone light and the way her shoulders relaxed confirmed levity was the right path to take. “How are we to pass our afternoon? Will you try to discover all my deepest secrets?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Isaac Fox, are you flirting? I thought you detested flirting.”
“I detest unwelcome flirting. Shallow flirting.” He allowed her to move her hand from his so she might take his arm. They started to walk down the drive. “I have not flirted much myself, since the war. Perhaps I ought to take it up again.”
“That would make you quite the hypocrite, unless you allow me the same privilege.” She kept her head turned forward, so he heard more than saw her smile. “I thought we might walk for a time. Or perhaps we could pay a visit to your sister. As alternative ideas to sharing secrets.”
He sighed dramatically and took her off the path, making for a large oak tree. “You need my secrets, Millie. How else will you escape Lady Olivia’s clutches?” He nodded to an iron bench that his father had put around the tree to serve as a place of reflection. “Come. Sit for a time. Then I will have my gig brought round to take you to see Esther.”
“Your concern for my reputation does you credit, sir.” She took her seat upon the old bench, tucking her skirts carefully to the side so he might sit beside her. He did not hesitate to do so, laying his arm along the back of the bench above her shoulders.
“As does your concern for mine.” He crossed his legs and leaned back against the bench. “Did you experience anything unpleasant after I left you yesterday?”
“Only the expression of Lady Olivia’s impatience this morning, but as the result of that discussion brought me to your door, I cannot mind it.” She tipped her face upward. “No one has tried to kiss me again, if that is what you were specifically wondering.”
“Ah, I see. Is that the most unpleasant thing that might happen to you?” he asked, tempted to grin. He’d enjoyed their kiss. Though his intention had been to stun her, he had ended up surprised by how much he had liked it.
Her amusement faded into a tired sigh. “Unfortunately not. There are many things for me to worry over, at present. Sarah locked my bedroom door last night and insisted she sleep in the same room. She already had her concerns over Lord Carning, and now she thinks Mr. Weston a threat.”
Isaac winced at his own thoughtless inquiry. “You are fortunate to have such a loyal servant in your employment.”
“I know it. Which brings to my mind a plan I had, but I wish to put it to you.” She turned still more toward him, her left shoulder brushing against his arm. She explained an idea of shuffling through the personal rooms of not only Lady Olivia, but Mr. Weston. Isaac listened, his concern growing, as she first described taking action herself or, alternatively, bribing a servant to do the same.
“The more people you involve, the more likely you are to be found out.” He sighed and his hand lifted a bonnet ribbon from her shoulder. He wistfully remembered when his nephew had played with the very same ribbon. Why had such a charming woman fallen into such an odd fate? More importantly, how was he to help her? “It was true in the army. Orders were never shared down the ranks until they
absolutely had to be told. It kept secrets from slipping out, movements from being discovered.”
“I had rather not send Sarah to do the job. If she is discovered, it would be terrible for her. But if I poke about Mr. Weston’s quarters—”
“The consequences would be far worse.” Isaac idly rubbed the satin ribbon between his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts turning about in his mind until he found a solution. “Tonight there is a card party at the house, is there not? I have my invitation. Esther planned to attend. What if I search Mr. Weston’s rooms?”
Millie’s eyebrows drew down and the lightest of creases appeared just above them on her smooth forehead. “How would you go about that?”
“Tell Sarah to wait for me, near the guest chambers. I will make an excuse to slip away a moment. Fresh air. A trip to the water closet. Something of the sort.” He released the ribbon in favor of taking up the hand she had rested in her lap. Not that she needed his reassurance, but it felt right all the same. “She can tell me which room is Weston’s and I can take a few minutes to see if there is anything of interest. Though I would think most men leave their secrets at home rather than take them to house parties in the country.”
“I know.” Her shoulders drooped along with the corners of her mouth. “I cannot think what else to do now. I have no wish to encourage him into behaving as he did before. I doubt the man will reveal anything of an intimate nature to me.”
Isaac had already written letters of inquiry that morning, to a few fellow officers who held positions at home posts. Perhaps one of them would turn up something of use, but telling Millie of his efforts would be premature.
“Absolutely do not engage him that way again,” Isaac said quietly, lifting her hand to his chest, holding it there to emphasize his sincere concern. “Millie, the man could overpower you. I would not have you hurt for anything.”
Her cheeks reddened, and she lowered her eyes. “Do you always take such care of your friends, Isaac?”
It was the first time that day she had said his name, and it had the same effect as a hammer hitting upon his chest with a thud. He could not let Millie know what she did to him. That he had accepted his attraction to her, looked forward to knowing more of her.
He was captivated by this woman whose troubles would take work to solve, who inspired his desire to protect her, to save her.
“Millie.” He thought of confessing, but his sister’s admonishments of rushing headlong into impossible situations stopped up those words like a topper in a bottle.
She waited, then prompted with a shy smile. “Yes, Isaac?”
He shifted and looked down at her hand, still resting in his, her knuckles brushing his coat. “We can stave off Lady Olivia’s impatience if I pretend to fall in love with you.”
Millie’s whole body pulled away from him, her face white with shock. “Forgive me. Did you really just suggest—Isaac. You cannot be serious. How would that help matters at all?”
“If I act the part of a lovelorn suitor, Lady Olivia will see it as evidence of your work upon the task. What better way to hurt a man than win his heart under false pretenses?” He tried to smile, to make the plan sound sensible even as she slipped her hand away. “You know her well enough by now to guess that she cares little for Mrs. Vanderby’s plans regarding Mr. Weston. If Lady Olivia thinks you are succeeding with the part of the agreement that most concerns her, she will exert less pressure upon you.”
A laugh escaped her, though it was short and surprised.
“Is the idea of loving me so laughable?” Isaac attempted to smile and tried very hard to make the words a jest, but his heart protested with one horrid stab of pain.
“Not at all.” The mirth faded from her eyes and she sighed deeply, as though weary. “It is only that I suggested such a thing at the beginning. Lady Olivia scoffed at me. And here we have come back to my first suggestion.”
He watched as Millie pulled in her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. Then she stood and walked to the very edge of the shadows cast by the oak. “It would be a relief to have her somewhat mollified. Lord Neil would attest to a claim of affection, given what he saw of our friendship in the carriage.”
Isaac’s curiosity grew. “Would he? I cannot think I have ever known Lord Neil to be particularly helpful.”
“I think he is woefully underestimated.” Millie turned enough for him to see a secretive smile upon her face. Because she thought of the shiftless son of the marquess? The two were not closely acquainted, surely. “Lord Neil has proven a help to me once or twice. He is the only person in that entire household that has shown himself to be something of a friend.”
“Interesting thought.” And unsettling. Millie and Lord Neil—friends? He stirred uneasily a moment, then stood. “Have we decided then? I will play the besotted suitor and you the clever huntress who ensnared me.”
Millie hesitated, then gave a tight nod. “Yes. And the plan for the card party tonight—it is a good one. I will alert Sarah so she will play her part as guide. As lookout, too.”
“Excellent. Allow me to get the carriage and we can pay our respects to Essie.” Isaac bowed, making certain to show nothing but confidence in his smile, and he returned to the house with a quick step. His enthusiasm dissipated when he entered the house and called for a footman to go to the stables. He needed to fetch his hat and gloves, change footwear, and look the part of an eligible baronet. Not because he wished to impress Millie, of course. Not at all.
Whatever affection he felt for her, he must quell. She needed a friend and confidant. But playing the part of a smitten man, intent upon courtship, would prove quite easy. Perhaps, when it was all over, when Millie was safely away from Lady Olivia, he might visit her in London. Then he would see if there could be something real between them.
Chapter 18
As bidden by a note scrawled in Lady Olivia’s hand, Millie appeared in the lady’s room before the card party. Dinner had ended an hour previous, and Millie hid herself away, rather than force herself to make conversation. Lady Olivia’s note had waited for Millie atop her dressing table.
“You wished to see me, Lady Olivia?”
“Yes.” Lady Olivia wore her dinner clothes and sat on the edge of her lounging couch, snapping her fan before her face. Her eyes flashed irritably. “You were gone the whole of the day. What happened with Sir Isaac? And why do you avoid Weston?”
This was the moment. Millie had to sound confident, and she had to press upon Lady Olivia that all went according to plan. “I do apologize for my absence, but I had good reason. I spent my time away from the house with Sir Isaac and his family. I felt it important to concentrate my efforts on one man at a time, as dividing my attention caused confusion during the Orford excursion.”
Lady Olivia snapped her fan closed, her cold green eyes narrowing. “And? What happened?”
“I believe I have won Sir Isaac’s trust.” That much she could say without even batting an eye. It was the truth. He trusted her. “And I am on my way to winning his heart.”
It shocked her how much she wished it were true. She should not want to win him. She should forget the very idea of Isaac feeling for her anything other than friendship. Millie had to fulfill her family’s wishes—and her own. For as long as she could remember, she had been groomed to take a place of prominence in Society. It was up to her to fix everything Emmeline’s decision had broken.
Even if Emmeline had made the right choice when she escaped her engagement to the viscount.
The silence stretched between them. Lady Olivia’s cold glare did not abate. Millie did not flinch or quell beneath the ice.
Finally, Lady Olivia opened her fan with a slow, graceful movement. “His heart.” She stood and walked languidly to Millie, towering over her with her greater height. Lady Olivia was the swan to Millie’s peahen. Tall, elegant, wearing a gown that likely cost as much as Millie’s entire wardrobe. “I attempted something similar, once. I presented him with everything he could w
ant from a woman of standing, of nobility. All I received was his scorn.” Her eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth as she snarled. “If you try to make a fool of me, Miss Millicent Wedgewood, your family will regret it for generations to come.”
Millie kept her gaze straight ahead, looking at the wall across from where she stood lest she lose her bravado. “Yes, Lady Olivia.”
A knock at the door prevented Lady Olivia from saying more. Instead she raised her voice, her tone changing to one of boredom. “Who is it?”
The door opened and Lord Neil leaned against its frame, wearing an exasperated expression. “Mother wants you downstairs to greet the neighborhood guests with her.”
Lady Olivia huffed, then waved dismissively toward Millie. “Very well. We will speak later, Miss Wedgewood.”
Millie curtsied, then preceded Lady Olivia out the door. Lord Neil offered his arm to Millie, not his sister, and immediately started speaking of whist. His sister cut him an annoyed glance and sailed away, as graceful as ever. Lord Neil kept his steps shorter, slower, until his sister turned down the hall out of sight.
“I noticed you both missing,” he said, voice lowered and no longer as languid. “Have you some secret enjoyment of being flayed by my sister’s temper?”
“Not at all.” She relaxed her hold upon him. “Do you know the whole of the agreement between us now?”
“I believe so. Though not why Olivia is so determined to cause ruin. She can be a vindictive creature, I suppose.” He cut a fine figure in his dark blue coat and golden hair. He acted the part of a lay about, yet there was a strength to him that peeked out on occasion and gave Millie pause.
Though he had shown himself as an ally of sorts, Millie had no doubt his greater loyalty would always remain with his sister. “My only desire now is to leave your home unscathed by her wrath, my lord.”
The man could be better. If he wished. Perhaps he had never had the chance to be good, trapped within his family as he was.
Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance Page 19
