He cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Look after yourself, Miss Wedgewood. It is the only advice I can give. Though I have reason to believe you are avoiding certain members of our party.” His voice lowered. “There are rules here, Miss Wedgewood. No one may cross your threshold without your permission. Your maid need not sleep in your room.”
Millie sucked in a surprised gasp, then set about coughing when her lungs protested. “How did you know?”
“This is my home. I know what goes on inside of it.” Lord Neil lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “To the card room?”
She nodded her acceptance. When they reached the corridor, they were not the only couple ready to step inside. Sir Isaac and his sister had arrived at the door nearly at the same moment. Both of them appeared surprised to see her. Or perhaps surprised by the company she kept.
Lord Neil paused outside the door and bowed, deeply, to the countess. He spoke not a word to her, though he nodded to Isaac. “Fox.”
Isaac nodded but said nothing.
“This is where I leave you to make your own way, Miss Wedgewood.” He offered her the barest of smiles, but she caught a cautionary look in his eyes. If she said the word, asked it of him, he would not abandon her.
“Thank you, Lord Neil. I look forward to the evening.” She released his arm, then properly greeted her friends. “My lady. Sir Isaac. I am delighted to see you both here.”
“It is always pleasant to be among others for an evening,” Lady Inglewood said, her usual cheer subdued. She looked to Isaac, who still stood stiff and still as a statue. “Will you excuse me? I see Mrs. Ashford inside, and I must speak with her.”
“Of course, my lady.” Millie waited until the countess withdrew to step closer to Isaac. “Is something wrong? You appear…unsettled. Do you wish to abandon our plan?” What else could have him take on such a grim appearance?
Isaac offered her his arm. “I am surprised by Lord Neil’s attention to you, I suppose.” He cleared his throat and looked away, at the other guests in the room they had entered. There were tables scattered everywhere, footmen bearing trays of treats and goblets of wine. “You are quite lovely tonight, Miss Wedgewood.”
Ah, yes. Their plan. Over the course of the evening, Isaac intended not only to make everyone believe him a besotted man, but he meant to engage in a clandestine search, too. The easier she made the whole of it for him, the less work he had to do.
“Thank you, Sir Isaac. You are most kind. Might I interest you in a game of Whist?”
His gaze came back to meet hers. “Perhaps. If you will consent to be my partner.”
They were soon seated at a table with Miss Parr and Mr. Ashford. The four of them exchanged pleasantries during the first round of the game, and Miss Parr dealt the second round.
Millie did not particularly care for the game. When she played at home, with her parents or people from their small set of friends, she never exactly knew what her partner expected of her. Did they play a low card in hopes she would play a higher, winning the trick for them? Or did they anticipate that she would play low as well, forfeiting a point to the other team? Even with discussing strategy ahead of time with her father, when he consented to play, she inevitably made mistakes enough that her team lost the game.
When the third trick in a row went to their opponents, Millie raised her stare from the cards, a blush upon her cheeks. “I am sorry, Sir Isaac. This turn will be better.”
A boyish smile appeared on his face, revealing that hidden sparkle in his eyes. “Do not worry your head over it. I have never enjoyed a game of Whist more than this one.”
Her stomach twisted. This was part of his playacting. How could anyone enjoy losing?
Apparently, Miss Parr wondered the same. “If you two do not win this round, you forfeit the game to us. I can hardly see how losing is enjoyable.”
“Can you not?” Mr. Ashford reordered his cards in his hand, contemplating which card to lay atop the first for the round. “I am certain it is the company Sir Isaac enjoys. Not the cards.” The gentleman winked across at Miss Parr, who blushed prettily.
Sir Isaac said nothing, but his eyes glittered at Millie with pleasure. His ruse was working. Of course he was pleased. He had laid down the first card this time, a high card the other couple could not possibly beat without a trump. Millie put down the lower card in her possession, and Miss Parr did the same.
“You see? We won that one.” Millie sat a little taller in her chair, though she knew she had no right to be pleased. He’d had the trick for them with his Queen of Spades.
“That we did.” He flashed a smile she barely caught from around his cards. He held them up close in his hand, tapping his forefinger on the backs of them without any purpose to the movement. After they had sat, Millie wondered if he could manage the cards one-handed. Of course, he’d proven himself perfectly adept at gathering the cards and fanning them in his hand; he even played without having to put them down to select a single card.
Millie pursed her lips and put her left hand in her lap, taking up the cards only in her right. Simple.
When her turn came, she attempted to do as Isaac had, using only her thumb to push the card she wished to play up in the fan of the hand. Three cards came up. She frowned and tried to lower the two she did not wish to access, only to have a card at the edge of her hand drop to the table, face-up.
“Bother,” she muttered, laying the whole hand down and playing the unfortunate card that had already been revealed to all.
“Not so easy as it looks, is it?” The corners of Isaac’s eyes crinkled. “Still, valiant effort, Miss Wedgewood.”
Millie blushed and very nearly stuck her tongue out at him.
Mr. Ashford dropped his left hand to the arm of his chair. “I bet I can manage it better.”
Miss Parr, not to be left out, did the same. “How long did it take you to manage playing with one hand, Sir Isaac?”
“I have no idea.” He thumbed his next card easily into the pile, without revealing the rest of his hand to them as Mr. Ashford did a moment later. “My friends were patient with me as I practiced. That is all I remember of it now.”
Millie inadvertently dropped another card, but face-down. She frowned at it and played a different one before trying to return it to her hand. “I cannot fathom the amount of patience you must have exercised. I have seen you ride, manage all your utensils at meals, hold a baby, and now play cards.”
“Hold a baby?” Mr. Ashford smirked. “I had no idea you were domestic, Sir Isaac.”
Isaac shrugged one shoulder. “My nephew is a fine lad. I have no objection to entertaining him. I quite enjoy it.”
“It is my opinion,” Millie added, slanting a mocking glare at Mr. Ashford, “that a man is never so handsome as when he proves himself kind to women, children, and animals.”
Miss Parr tipped her delicate nose in the air. “I quite agree.”
“I shall have to make use of my own nieces and nephews then.” Mr. Ashford sighed deeply, then dropped his entire hand of cards. He muttered a less than appropriate word, causing Miss Parr to blush and giggle.
Millie studied the card Mr. Ashford played, then looked to Sir Isaac. Did he wish for her to lay down a lower card? Had he a trump card? When all he did was raise his eyebrows at her, giving her no indication of what he wished, she glared at him and put down the highest card she had.
Miss Parr swiftly covered it with the smallest possible trump. “We win this one again, unless you have a higher trump card, Sir Isaac.”
“Alas, I do not.” He played a throwaway card of the wrong suit entirely. Millie’s shoulder dropped.
“I am the worst of all Whist players. Do forgive my ineptitude, Sir Isaac.”
“Only if you promise you will play chess with me after.” He tipped his head in the direction of a chessboard near the window overlooking the dark gardens. “Or do you claim to be the worst of all chess players, too?”
Millie played her second to last c
ard. “My father regularly outmaneuvers me in less than ten minutes.”
“Chess is such a dull game,” Miss Parr muttered.
“What games do you enjoy, Miss Wedgewood?” Sir Isaac asked, not even batting an eye when Mr. Ashford claimed the pile of cards for their partnership. “Which do you win?”
Millie put down her last card, already knowing they’d lost. “Badminton.”
“We won.” Miss Parr cheerfully counted out their tricks.
“Bad luck, Sir Isaac.” Mr. Ashford grinned and jerked his head to the chessboard. “Are you two off to play at kings and queens?”
Isaac rose from his chair and came around to help Millie from hers. “Perhaps. I might ask about a possible game of badminton instead.”
Millie took his arm and the two of them walked slowly to the window, though Isaac made no move to the table and chairs set aside for the chessboard. The room buzzed with conversation and activity, yet Millie sensed a few stares upon them. They both turned to the window, the better to speak without anyone knowing what they said.
“Are you well?” Isaac asked, his voice rich and warm.
“Well enough. Lady Olivia did not believe me when we spoke earlier, when I told her you had feelings for me. But perhaps when she comes into the room and sees us….”
“I intend to make certain she cannot doubt my feelings for you.” Isaac’s crooked grin made him positively dashing.
“You mean you are not already acting?” she asked, leaning a little toward him. “Dear me. We are in for a show.”
He chuckled but did not say more on the subject. He released her arm and leaned his left shoulder against the windowpane. “What do you wish to do tomorrow? I intend to take you away from this house as often as possible. Perhaps you would care to ride with me?”
Millie’s heart accepted the invitation before she could voice it, with the way it picked up in tempo. It wasn’t good to give in. Isaac was playing a role. He was a good friend, nothing more. “I would enjoy that. Tomorrow evening there will be a musical performance. Will you come?”
“Are you performing?”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you not a talented performer?”
“I sing well enough.” She stepped a little closer, lowering her voice still more. “And I play the harp, but Lady Olivia will not suffer anyone to perform upon her instrument.”
“Is that so?” His eyes brightened, undoubtedly with mischief. “Esther has a harp. Perhaps I will convince her to bring it.”
“You horrid man. You must do no such thing. What an insult to my hosts.” Millie tried to hide her amusement, looking over her shoulder at the room to be certain no one heard, and she caught sight of the viscount standing in a corner at the opposite side of the room, speaking with the marquess and Lord Neil. “I have no wish to perform for these people.”
Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed, and he followed her gaze with his. “I cannot say that I blame you. This room is full of disagreeable sorts.”
Millie shuddered and turned away before Lord Carning caught her stare. “Thank goodness you are here.”
His eyes met hers, and she caught a flicker of emotion in them. Tenderness. Relief. Something of that nature which caused his shoulders to relax and a smile to return to his handsome face. “I am pleased to be of service to you, Miss Wedgewood.”
The air in the room shifted, growing stifling before Millie could offer her gratitude to Sir Isaac yet again. She and he turned as one to the entrance, where Lady Olivia stood regally framed by the wide doorway.
“Are we supposed to applaud?” Millie asked, taking in the woman’s haughty pose.
“Thankfully, I am excused from ever doing so on that woman’s account.” He raised his right hand and his eyebrows, rather comically drawing her attention to his inability to clap hands together.
A laugh escaped Millie, and she did not cover it quite soon enough for Lady Olivia to miss the sound. The daughter of the marquess descended upon them, fan already cutting through the air.
“Sir Isaac. Miss Wedgewood. You are not playing any games. Are our offerings not good enough for you?” she asked, eyelashes beating fiercely. “Not tempting enough?” Though she had addressed them both, the woman kept her gaze upon Sir Isaac. Measuring him. Perhaps reminding him of what she had offered in the past. What she may yet offer.
Millie resisted the urge to be sick, but only just.
“The diversions in your home are well known.” The lack of emotion in Sir Isaac’s voice bordered on rude. “I have found Miss Wedgewood’s company preferable to the other entertainments.”
If Millie hadn’t been made privy to the history between the two people before her, their veiled meanings would certainly make her curious. When Lady Olivia’s face turned a dark red, and one of her eyes twitched involuntarily, Millie hastily constructed an innocent expression before the woman rounded upon her.
“And you, Miss Wedgewood. Do you enjoy the company more than the games?”
There was hidden meaning there, too.
“The games are most diverting, my lady.” Though she pressed her lips together tightly, Millie gritted her teeth after speaking, hard enough they might crack.
Lady Olivia was called by another guest. She gave Sir Isaac one last dangerous glare before turning her back on them.
Millie still held her breath when she felt Isaac’s hand at the small of her back. He touched her gently, where no one might see the reassurance he offered. “We will beat her at her game, Millie. I promise.”
She nodded once. “Perhaps you ought to excuse yourself now. I will speak to your sister.” She had spotted the countess in conversation with other matrons near a table of punch. “Mr. Weston has just joined a game of cards.”
Isaac took her measure before he agreed. “Stay with Essie. I did not tell her your secrets, but I did say you might need a friend this evening.” He bowed, then left the room by walking along its edges, stopping to speak occasionally to card players, drawing little attention to himself.
Millie did the same, in the opposite direction, winding her way to Lady Inglewood. Esther welcomed her into the conversation at once, which centered upon the thought of using one’s artistic skills to improve the home.
It took a great deal of Millie’s discipline to not check the doorway, or the timepiece on the mantel, while Isaac was away. If he were caught, things might go badly for them both. But it was easier, far easier, to stand in a room with the viscount knowing Isaac was nearby.
* * *
Though not intimately familiar with the Alderton house, Isaac knew enough to find the guest quarters. He had barely stepped into the corridor when a door opened, and Sarah stepped out. He greeted her with a smile and tip of the head, hoping to set her at ease.
She did not seem to need his reassurance. “All the way down the hall, sir. Last door on the left. I’ve been watching it all evening. Mr. Weston’s man is downstairs, enjoying a drink.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Isaac gave her a nod of understanding before making his way to the indicated door. She followed, a few steps behind. Then she took out a little box of sewing needles. “You go on, sir. If I see anyone coming, I plan to drop the box and make a fuss over picking up the pieces inside. The servant’s stair is there.” She pointed to a nondescript door down a small turn in the corridor. “No one will think it strange for me to be here. If you need to hide, I’ll be especially clumsy.”
Isaac gave her an appraising glance. “You sound as though you have done this before.”
“Not at all, sir. Merely thought it through.” She pointed to the door. “You better get a move on.”
Bossy little thing. He did as she said, impressed by the servant yet again.
The guest room had a lamp burning low, which he immediately turned up to chase away the shadows. He shuddered, hating the confined, unfamiliar place. He had almost rather return to the gathering of people, though crowded rooms bothered him. Somehow, it was not as terri
ble as usual.
Millie made it bearable.
He paused, staring into the open drawer of a table, that thought catching him by surprise.
Yes, he had found himself attracted to her. Yes, he wanted to help her. But had she, somehow, helped him instead?
Isaac turned his search elsewhere. What sort of man traveled with any secrets he might possess? He doubted there was a thing in Mr. Weston’s room that would be useful to anyone wishing to threaten him. But perhaps, as an honest man, it was naive of him to believe such a thing.
After going through the room, even checking beneath the pillow, mattress, and bed itself, Isaac admitted defeat. He stepped out into the hall to find Sarah still waiting, box of needles in hand.
“Nothing?” she whispered.
“Not a thing.” Isaac gave her a reassuring smile. “Never fear. We will think of something.”
The servant nodded thoughtfully, then dipped a curtsy and started to walk away. She paused after a few steps and turned. “Would you be willing to play lookout for me, sir, while I check Lady Olivia’s room?”
What a brazen suggestion. But not a bad idea. Isaac considered, then removed his watch to check the time.
“Not this night, but perhaps another. I cannot be gone any longer.”
“Of course, sir.” She curtsied again and went to the door where she had been waiting for him, slipping inside. Was that Millie’s room? Most likely.
He found his way back to the main room, where people mingled, laughing. Most now had cups of wine in hand. Millie stood by Esther, as he had instructed. He approached with a broad grin and shook his head the tiniest bit when she questioned him with no more than the lift of her chin.
Her shoulders drooped, but otherwise her disappointment did not show.
Somehow, Isaac would extract her from the situation. And enjoy her company all the more after.
Chapter 19
Isaac arrived in an open carriage at eleven o’clock in the morning. He had every intention of whisking Millie away with him and not returning her until absolutely necessary. The more time she spent with him, the better. He needed to study her more. He wanted to determine what quality she possessed that so put him at ease.
Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance Page 20
