“I see Oliver has already told you the pertinent points,” she said as she approached the desk.
Emily came to stand beside him, instinctively moving to the side with his unimpeded arm; he used it to draw her protectively into his side.
He hadn’t lied when he’d said he thought Henry and Emily would come to like each other in time, but he also knew that they could both be prickly when they were first meeting a stranger, or when they felt as though they were being judged.
“Are you all right?” he murmured to her. “Louisa can have a heavy hand when it comes to managing.”
“I heard that,” Louisa said, raising a brow at him. “Don’t mock your elders.”
“She agreed to help us,” Emily whispered, her hand sliding into his. He swiped his thumb across her knuckles.
Henry looked at his wife with mingled exasperation and affection. “You already pledged my help?”
“No.” She touched his shoulder lightly. “I pledgedmyhelp. You may do as you please.”
He reached up to take her hand, holding it in his. Then he looked straight at Oliver. “You believe he’s gone to London?”
“He’s escaping Lord Rotherham, who recently went north,” Oliver said, and Henry nodded in understanding. “My guess is he went to his lodgings on St James Street.”
Louisa sighed, shaking her head. “Young men are so very predictable, and so very stupid.”
“Easy enough to find him,” Oliver said. “The problem will be what to do with Isabella once we do.”
“Bring her back to Bolton House,” Louisa said at once. “We have been meaning to go to London in the next few weeks; we can bring our plans forward easily enough.”
“The problem arises with after,” Oliver said. “He may try to besmirch Isabella’s name, and it’s likely Dalston knows at least a little of what she’s been up to. Going home would be . . . difficult.”
“You mean,” Louisa said with a smile, “she needs family members she can retire with until any possible scandal has died down a little?”
“Ideally, there wouldbeno scandal,” Oliver said. “But yes.”
Henry tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk. “I know Rotherham. Not well, but a little. I could speak with him. He is not the sort of man who would let a situation like this go unpunished.”
“My family name holds no weight except in the small part of the country I come from,” Emily said, looking directly at Henry. She didn’t flinch away from his returning look. “There is no one to stand in our defence.”
“Wrong,” Oliver said. “There is us.”
“He’s correct,” Henry said, and something in Oliver’s gut eased at the confirmation of his theory. Henry would help. They would have the full force of the Eynsham name and wealth behind their cause. “It would not matter if you were a princess or a pauper; the case remains the same. Lord Marlbury took advantage of a vulnerable girl and ruined her, with full knowledge of his actions and no interest in repentance. Thus, action must be taken. As we are in possession of the details, we should be the ones to do so, and if we can do so with the least injury to the girl’s reputation, so much the better.”
“We can find someone to take her in,” Louisa said. “For a year or two, at least.”
Emily pressed a hand against her chest. “I know this is a lot to ask, and I understand if it’s not possible.”
“Nonsense,” Lousia said. “Do you think your sister is the first girl to be foolish? No, and she will not be the last. Once she grows out of it, as I’m sure she will, she will be of a mind to find a husband in a more . . . typical manner.”
“Will she?” Emily asked, and Oliver could hear the slight tremor in her voice. “I mean, will she find a husband if she is not—if she is not virtuous?”
Oliver resisted the urge to say Emily had found someone—him—who would take her no matter what her past might be.
“Of course she will,” Louisa assured her. “One way or the other.”
Oliver squeezed Emily’s hand, and she glanced at him, a slight smile springing to her lips.
“It’s settled, then,” Louisa said. “Tomorrow, we will set out for London, and once you’ve retrieved this sister, you can bring her back to us. Henry will meet with Lord Rotherham, and we will smooth everything over. There will be no scandal—or at least, none containing a name.” She rang the bell. “Time for dinner, I think. And a good night’s sleep. Things will seem better in the morning.” For the first time, she glanced at Oliver’s arm. “You seem to be bearing the wounds of battle, Oliver.”
“My own foolishness, I assure you.”
Louisa smiled, a little sadly. “Alas, the worst wounds always are.”
