She dug two missives from her apron pockets and extended them toward Tilly, who took them with another amused snort. “Guess these toffs don’t do nothin’ fer themselves.”
The maid curtsied again and rushed from the room.
“Tilly, if this is going to succeed,” Isabel spoke in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “you’ll need to mind your tongue.”
Tilly’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “If ye say so.”
Isabel broke the seal on the first note and scanned its contents.
You have a terrible megrim. It will keep you confined to the quiet of Rosebud Cottage for the duration of your stay. I shall make your apologies for you.
—P
She should have expected this, yet it rubbed her fur the wrong direction. She’d never been treated as someone to be ashamed of.
“What’s it say?” Tilly asked.
Isabel folded the note. “My head aches.”
“Ye seem fine to me.”
Isabel opened the second missive, and her heart did a little flip when she read the signature.
Our dear Isabel,
Do consider joining the family in the breakfast room as it would give us great pleasure to welcome you to the family.
—Lucretia, Duchess of Arundel
Postscript: It is my understanding that you have a megrim. As a frequent sufferer of the condition myself, I’ve devised a remedy that offers great relief. Cook will have a batch awaiting your arrival.
Isabel’s hands fell to her lap. The note fluttered to the floor, which Tilly immediately retrieved, squinting at contents she surely couldn’t read. “What’s this ’un say?”
“Her Grace has invited me to break my fast with the family.”
“Lawks be, don’t know ’bout that. Bet she got a good spread goin’, though.”
“I shall go,” Isabel said in sudden decision.
Even as part of her quaked at the very thought of joining a duke’s family for breakfast, another part of her rose to the idea of tweaking Lord Percival’s nose out of joint,ifsuch a devastating man’s nose could, indeed, be tweaked askew.
“Well, if yer insistin’, then ye’ll be wantin’ to look yer tidy best fer Lady Exeter.”
“Lady Exeter?”
“She would be yer sister by law, if ye were well an’ truly ’itched to Lord Percival.”
“Who told you this?”
“Well, the chambermaid ’oo was ’ere? ’Er name is Jane, and she let me in on the runnin’s o’ this place when she delivered some food to yer sister and ’er servant.”
“Nell isn’t our servant,” Isabel said before adding, “Not exactly.”
“Well, then what is she?”
“It’s a complicated situation.” Wasn’t everything these days?
“About yer sister,” Tilly began and shifted on her feet. It was the first time Isabel had seen the girl discomfited. “She don’t say much, does she?”
