“Your sister has a great talent. This is one of hers, is it not?”
“My sister will never be a topic of conversation between us, Lord Neil.” Isaac did not bother to bow since the other man had already ignored common politeness. “What are you doing here?”
Lord Neil turned to fully face Isaac, and that was when Isaac saw the box in his neighbor’s hands. A box he had glimpsed before, a time or two, while Millie worked upon it.
“I have come to deliver this to you, though why I am made errand boy I cannot imagine.” He came forward and put the box upon a table near Isaac. Thoughtful of him, considering it would be difficult for Isaac to manage the wide rectangular object with a single hand.
“You should not have troubled yourself,” Isaac said, unable to take his eyes from the artfully rendered fox upon the box’s hinged lid. It was all in black and ivory, quite beautiful. The inked fox looked almost alive, peering up at him with its long tail lowered to wrap around a leg. Vines and grasses covered the rest of the lid and twined down to the box’s sides.
It really was a work of art.
Lord Neil shrugged, his eyelids falling somewhat, as though he were bored. “I wanted to see your reaction to it, to be honest. I find that Miss Wedgewood stirs the strangest of emotions in people. The letter she instructed me to give to my sister, for instance, left Olivia shrieking and spitting rather like an angry cat. Most diverting.”
“Why would you have to deliver a letter to your sister?” Isaac asked, approaching the table. “Surely the two women could pass their own notes to each other.” He ran his hand across the edge of the box, feeling light etches in the wood made to keep the ink in place and providing greater depth to the image. It was not a painting, such as Esther’s, but it was unique and quite fine.
Why had Millie sent it to him? He would not keep away from her. So if it was meant as a goodbye—
“Oh, you did not know?” Lord Neil’s tone was sly and smooth as ever. “I suppose you could not. Miss Wedgewood disappeared from our house this morning. All her things were left with a letter instructing me how to dispatch them.”
Isaac jerked his head up, unable to keep his shock inside. “She what?”
“Disappeared.” Lord Neil waved his hand through the air. “Her note said she wished her things sent to her parents’ country home, then there was a letter addressed to me. I had a note to send to her parents, a note for Olivia, and the instruction to bring you this box.” He nodded to the box upon the table.
Isaac stared down again, swallowing back a string of oaths. She left without a goodbye. If she thought that would keep him from following her—
“There are notes inside.”
His poor humor made him snap. “Have you read them?”
Without shame, the man grinned. “I have. As I said, the woman makes me curious.”
This time, Isaac did swear, but Lord Neil only chuckled. Isaac flipped open the lid. Two papers were inside. One folded, neatly, and the other appearing to have been crumpled and smoothed out again.
He took the undamaged paper first and saw it bore the name of a street, town, and county in cramped, uneven handwriting. He narrowed his eyes, uncertain, before dropping it in favor of the crumpled paper. It was an unfinished letter. As he read, he wondered if Millie had meant to send it to him at all.
Dear Isaac,
My Dearest Sir Isaac,
My thoughts are muddled, swirling like mud and water, refusing to settle. I am at once grateful for all you have done, for your friendship, and regretful that we ever had to meet. Especially under such horrid circumstances.
From the first moment I saw you, pretending you were a groundskeeper, I have thought you handsome, witty, and most infuriating. Yet now that I know you better, I see so much more. You are kind, protective, honorable. You are a man without equal.
I wish I was worthy of you.
You said you could love me. I wish it were so. With my whole heart.
It was written before he’d confessed his love for her in full. Sometime between her nap in the hammock and their last words to each other. Why send him the letter, unfinished? It didn’t make sense.
Isaac examined the paper again, then the direction. He raised his gaze from the scrawled words to Lord Neil, who appeared as perplexed as he. “You had nothing to do with these notes finding their way into the box?”
“Nothing at all.” Lord Neil shrugged. “I confess to enjoying the mystery about them.”
“And are you to report to your sister on my reaction?” Isaac asked, allowing his anger to taint the words.
To his surprise, the lord laughed at that. “Not at all.”
“So you do not care that Miss Wedgewood fulfilled her part of the agreement?” he asked carefully.
Lord Neil’s smile was slow and full of whatever knowledge the man thought he had. “My sister apparently bays for your blood, Sir Isaac. I do not know why, nor do I wish to, but she has been thwarted. Given her reaction to her own note from Miss Wedgewood, that is. How strange you would think the young woman accomplished the task set for her.”
“I have never liked you, Lord Neil.” Isaac watched the man as he spoke, saw the momentary flicker of emotion in his eye. Anger, perhaps. “But you inspired confidence in Miss Wedgewood. Enough for her to trust you with her things and her words. She seemed to have a certain fondness for you.”
Nothing had prepared the man for that comment, apparently, given the way his smirk melted away. He cleared his throat. “Miss Wedgewood is a unique woman. She claims to have seen something in me. Something good. Decent, even. I could not let her down this time. I am unlikely to have cause to do her a favor again.”
“That being said,” Isaac went on, “thank you for delivering this. Perhaps you might find a way to keep your sister from adding Miss Wedgewood to her list of people to revenge herself upon.”
“Perhaps.” Lord Neil dusted off the sleeves of his coat. “Perhaps you and that brother-in-law of yours ought to come to the house today. My father is still at home. He might find what you two have to say about my sister’s activities…interesting.” He abruptly bowed. “For now, good day, Sir Isaac.”
“Lord Neil.” Isaac bowed as the man swept past him to the door, puzzling over his words no more than an instant before the painful news returned to the forefront of his mind.
Millie had left. All he had of her was a box, a letter, and a location. Then there was Lord Neil’s suggestion. Intriguing as it was, Isaac sent word to the stables to ready his horse.
In little time, he was in Silas’s study, explaining the situation as best he could. He had little evidence to support all that Millie had told him. Would his word be enough to involve the marquess?
“All we can do is try.” Silas huffed and bestowed a dark scowl upon Isaac. “Why did you not involve me before?”
“I made a promise to a young woman.” Isaac tried to smile. “But as she has fled the area I thought it best to confide in you. You know the Marquess. Will he listen to us?”
Silas rose from his desk with purpose. Apparently, there would be no delay in dealing with Lady Olivia. “It will take cleverness. Let me do the talking.”
Isaac snorted. “Thank you for that.”
The earl realized what he had said and chuckled. “Sorry for that. I did not mean to imply you lacked cleverness. But we all know you are apt to speak without thinking.”
That trait had cost him a great deal over the years. If it had removed Millie from the possibility of loving him, he would ache for her the rest of his days. Then Lady Olivia would win.
“It irritates me how accurate that statement is, but I do intend to remedy that.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
A hard smile appeared upon Silas’s face. The sort of smile his political opponents would be terrified to see if he ever showed them more than his stony mask. “We shall.”
Given the serious nature of their visit to the marquess, Silas insisted on taking the carriage bearing his fami
ly’s coat of arms. Though he wished to tap his foot with impatience, Isaac forced himself to maintain composure. Charging in to the marquess’s home with accusations and little evidence would not achieve his purpose.
He distracted himself by thinking of Millie on the afternoon she slept in the hammock, beneath the trees. The world had been at peace around them for a precious hour, and then her kiss…
The carriage came to the door at last, and Isaac breathed easier. He kept Millie’s image in his mind and heart, making her the center of his thoughts.
They arrived at the Alderton estate and were shown to the library to await the marquess. Given Silas’s avoidance of the house for more than a year, his presence alone would indicate the seriousness of the matter to the other nobleman.
The Marquess of Alderton, Reginald Duncan, entered his library. He was an older man, nearing seventy, but still carried himself with confidence. His black hair was shot through with gray streaks, his eyes were the color of iron. Lord Neil, who entered after his father and closed the doors behind them, looked nothing like his father.
“Inglewood.” The marquess offered an abbreviated bow. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” His eyes flicked briefly to Isaac, then back to Silas.
Lord Neil came into the room and took a seat, without waiting for either of the lords who outranked him to do so. His father briefly scowled at him, but Lord Neil ignored everyone. For the first time, Isaac wondered how much of Lord Neil’s arrogant boredom was an act. He had as good as told Isaac to confront his father, yet acted as though nothing of consequence was to take place.
“It has come to my attention that a member of your household is abusing their power,” Silas said, all lordly and stiff. “I have come to ask, as a personal favor, that you put an end to it.”
Isaac’s attention focused again on the marquess.
The old man appeared to consider Silas’s words, raising his eyebrows. “Is that so? Abuse, hm? Have you evidence to support this claim?”
“Perhaps.” Silas cut a look to Isaac. “I have the word of my brother-in-law, and the testimony of a young woman. I thought it best I bring the matter to you, Alderton. I would certainly wish to know if a member of my family promised favors and retribution upon members of Society in order to settle petty differences.”
“Indeed.” The marquess turned his attention to Isaac, all of them still standing still. Silas and Isaac were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder and the marquess had not come far into the room. “Tell me, Sir Isaac. I should like to hear—”
The door burst open. Isaac turned, as did the others, to see Lady Olivia standing within the doorway. She scowled, but not at Isaac or Silas. At her brother. Strange. Did she know he had orchestrated this confrontation? She stormed into the room and slammed the door behind her.
She snarled like a wild animal. “I do not care what they have said, Papa, you mustn’t believe it.”
“Olivia.” Her father spoke her name sharply. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
“Neil is a traitor,” she bit out, hands curled into fists.
The marquess’s features hardened as he took in the state of his only daughter, and Isaac did not blame him for his shock. Lady Olivia’s cheeks were red, her eyes snapping dangerously, and she appeared wild.
“Miss Wedgewood came up with the whole plan herself. I had nothing to do with it. She betrayed me, and our family’s hospitality, using us for her own gain.”
Lord Neil chuckled from his place on the long sofa, which only appeared to infuriate his sister more.
“Would you make sense of this for me, Sir Isaac?” The marquess regarded his daughter coolly, not looking away from her as he asked his question. “My daughter protests her innocence for a wrongdoing I have not yet heard, accuses her brother, and one of our guests, of crimes against our family. I should like to hear a more level-headed explanation.”
Isaac exchanged a look with Silas. They had agreed to let the earl do the talking, but the balance had shifted. Silas gave a small nod, and Isaac took up the stance of a soldier.
“My lord, one of your guests has fled your house this morning, but not before she gave her reasons. Your daughter has threatened Miss Wedgewood with utter ruin if the other young lady did not do as Lady Olivia instructed. Lady Olivia meant to use Miss Wedgewood in an attempt to revenge herself upon me for a perceived slight. She has wielded Miss Wedgewood, an innocent young woman of gentle birth, as a weapon through her threats and promises—”
Isaac was cut off by a shriek. “Liar.” Lady Olivia stormed forward, stopping a pace closer than her father stood to Isaac. “Why would I ever bother with the likes of a baronet? You are beneath my notice, beneath even my contempt.”
He studied her, the cold fury in her eyes, the way her lip curled. And then, to his surprise and everyone else’s, Isaac laughed. Not long, or loud, but enough that Lady Olivia paled and stepped back, confusion upon her face.
When Isaac spoke, it was still with a touch of mirth. “Come now, Lady Olivia. We both know exactly what lengths you have gone to in order to capture my attention.” There was nothing suggestive, nor lurid in his tone. Yet she paled and darted a frightened look toward her father.
Apparently, the marquess needed nothing more said. “Go to my study, Olivia. Wait for me there.”
She squeaked. “Yes, Papa.” As she fled the room without a backward glance, Isaac almost felt sorry for her. The conniving woman had learned her viscous, hurtful behavior from someone. Most likely, given the sudden chill in his tone, it was from the marquess.
The marquess cast a suspicious glance toward his son, then turned his attention to Silas and Isaac. “It seems we are to trade favors today, Inglewood. If you will encourage your brother-in-law to forget whatever my daughter has done, I will ensure she does no harm to your Miss Wedgewood.”
Isaac looked to Silas, his heart racing. Had they won so easily? If the marquess was aware of his daughter’s intrigues, of her nature, he knew enough.
“We are willing to forget the whole of it, Alderton.” Silas tucked his hands behind his back and nodded to Isaac. “Sir Isaac?”
“If you give me your word, Lord Alderton.” Isaac kept his gaze steady on the older nobleman. “I want no repercussions, no harm to Miss Wedgewood or her family, and your guarantee that your daughter will leave my family alone.”
The marquess, a man of great power even though he had few morals, nodded once. “You have my word. Reputation is everything, Sir Isaac.” He looked to where Lord Neil quietly lounged upon the sofa. “I know all too well how damaging certain rumors can be. My daughter will not act in this manner again.” There were layers to his pronouncement, but at least one message was clear. If Isaac never again spoke of Lady Olivia’s attempted seduction, the marquess would see to it his daughter left Isaac and those he loved alone.
“Thank you.” Silas and Isaac bowed, taking their leave. Just before Isaac took the last step out the door, he glanced over his shoulder to Lord Neil. He caught the man’s eye, curious as to what part he had played in the confrontation.
Lord Neil had the audacity to smirk, but nodded once, as though in salute.
When they stepped into the open air again, Silas shuddered. “It’s rather like escaping a den of snakes.”
Isaac chuckled and put his hat upon his head, noticing for the first time what a glorious sky hung above them. The sky was blue, with dots of white clouds drifting by, and a sun so bright and glorious that it lifted his heart to stand beneath it.
“What will you do now?” Silas asked, still walking to the carriage.
“You need to ask?” Isaac grinned at his oldest friend, climbing into the vehicle. “I have a fox to catch.”
Chapter 27
The mail coach stopped at last in Warwickshire. Millie stepped down, with the assistance of an elderly gentleman who had sat across from her, knees knocking against hers for the last several hours. She pulled her small trunk close to her chest, looking about with some uncertainty
. Sarah came down next, clutching the bag of her essential items. They had only brought what they needed for the two-day trip, and a change of clothes for their final destination.
“That was an adventure, miss.” Sarah sidled up next to Millie on the path.
Millie shuddered. “One I am not eager to repeat.” They hadn’t met with anyone truly unpleasant, but the crowded coach, full of people from various social stations, had been a rather cramped and smelly affair.
“Then we will hope your sister lets us stay a bit.” Sarah offered her mistress a hopeful smile. “Now then. Where do we go?”
Millie had memorized the paper in her bag where she had written the instructions for finding her sister. She did not need to check them. She went to the innkeeper, who happily pointed them in the right direction.
Once upon the correct street, which was clean and tidy with two rows of neat houses and shops, Millie asked after the solicitor.
“Pardon me,” she said to a woman who watered a flower box full of pansies. “I am looking for Mr. and Mrs. Cadoc Powell. Do they live on this street?”
“Yes, miss. Three houses over, with the dark green door.” The woman smiled broadly, and without hesitation she asked, “Are you visiting the family, miss?”
Millie’s eyes were already searching out the door, her heart beating rapidly. It was Sarah that answered. “Yes, missus. Thank you kindly.”
“I have never said her married name before,” Millie whispered as they walked down the wide footpath. “What if she does not wish to see me?”
“Have courage. Your sister used to dote on you.”
“Up until the moment she met Mr. Powell.”
They stood in front of the door, and Millie suddenly remembered that night when she woke to find her sister escaping out the window.
“Do not fret, Millie. And do not say a word. I cannot marry Lord Carning. I am in love with Cadoc.”
Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance Page 25
