The room fell to silence as both men contemplated the idea. A soft knock on the door broke their concentration.
“I believe that will be young Manning with the rest of the brandy,” Jenkins remarked to the earl. “I told him to bring up the remaining stock from the wine cellar. I had a premonition you would attempt to consume it all tonight.”
“You know me too well, Jenkins.” The earl flashed a genuine smile. “When do we have to vacate the house?”
“I informed your solicitor that we would be gone by noon tomorrow.”
“Have you gotten all the staff settled?”
“Just as you requested,” Jenkins responded. He opened the drawing room doors and accepted three bottles of brandy from the footman. Then he quietly shut the door. “Those servants who were not offered positions with the new owners have all been offered jobs at The Grange.”
“Good.” The earl rose from his chair and stretched. “I don’t suppose any of the housemaids will be accompanying us?”
Jenkins shook his head. “Lord Poole’s lies about your reputation are taken very seriously in London. The only reason we were able to keep any female staff at this house was because you came to town so rarely.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the earl insisted, hearing the trace of bitterness in Jenkins’s voice. The valet’s unwavering loyalty could still move the earl, even after all their years together. “Since you have completed your duties so admirably, Jenkins, I was hoping you would keep me company for the remainder of the evening.”
Jenkins smiled regretfully, knowing it would be useless trying to talk the earl out of his plans. Selling the London town house had been a very difficult decision for Damien. And if he was determined to spend the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor, no one was going to be able to dissuade him. Lord knew the man had been through enough in the past few days.
“I shall endeavor to keep pace with you, my lord,” Jenkins responded soberly. “I cannot, however, guarantee how long I will remain on my feet.”
Chapter Two
Miss Isabella Browning could not dispel the persistent feeling that she was being watched.
This unsettling feeling came upon Isabella soon after entering the small park with her three young charges in tow. She quickly made a sweeping glance of the immediate area, but did not spy anyone exhibiting the least bit of interest in her or the children. Yet the feeling persisted.
“We want to race our twigs in the water, Miss Browning,” a young voice called out.
Isabella shifted her attention to the small boy addressing her. Master Robert Braun, age five, stood on the grassy slope near the shallow lake and fidgeted restlessly with the two sticks he held in his chubby hands. For once the child appeared to actually be waiting for Isabella to give her permission before he went blithely along his way.
Of course, Robert hadn’t exactlyaskedif he and his two sisters could play in the water, but at least he had paused a moment to voice his intentions to his governess. Isabella sighed. Did she dare hope nine months of constant battling with Robert were finally starting to pay off?
“You and your sisters may race your sticks as long as you promise to be very careful and not get too close to the water’s edge,” Isabella decided. “If you become too excited and boisterous, however, you will not be allowed to continue. Is that understood?”
With a barely perceivable nod, Robert turned his back on his governess and ran toward the water. His two sisters, Guinevere and Caroline, trailed dutifully in his wake. Although both girls were older, seven and nine respectively, they blindly followed their parents’ lead and deferred to Robert in all things. Consequently, the young boy was treated like a royal prince in the Braun household.
As the children’s governess, Isabella strived constantly to temper Robert’s spoiled and demanding attitude. It was a thankless and often frustrating task, but rare moments such as this morning provided Isabella with a glimmer of hope that she was finally achieving some measure of success with the headstrong boy.
Isabella followed behind the children slowly, climbing the sloping embankment where they were gathering. She kept a keen eye on their activities, but became distracted when she again felt prickles of awareness along her spine, and the uncomfortable sensation of being under the observation of a stranger’s eye. She whirled around suddenly, half expecting to see someone standing behind her. There was no one, but the vague sense of uneasiness would not leave.
There was no obvious explanation for Isabella’s unease since she was very familiar with this small park. She and the children came here at least three times a week, weather permitting. Still, Isabella would have felt calmer if the coachman, Hodgson, had been able to stay with them today as he usually did, instead of driving off to Bond Street on the orders of the mistress of the house. Hodgson would be returning to collect Isabella and the children after he finished his errands. She hoped the coachman would not be too long in arriving.
Isabella continued to experience an unfamiliar sense of foreboding, but she was determined to remain calm. The park was not very crowded at this hour of the morning, yet it was not deserted either. There were other nurses walking with their charges, as well as several gentlemen on horseback. Surely the gentlemen could be counted upon to lend assistance if the need arose.
Isabella shook her head and forced her mind to clear itself of these ridiculous notions. She was behaving skittishly and for no apparent logical reason. A sudden vivid recollection of a gruesome article she had read in theMorning Gazetteabout a young child being kidnapped off the streets of London caused a quickening of Isabella’s heart rate. Perhaps she was not being foolish. Maybe she was being watched. Although not of the gentry, Mr. Braun was a very wealthy man, and devoted to his three children. He would, without question, pay any ransom necessary to gain their safe release.
Isabella spared an instant of pity for anyone foolish enough to target the boisterous Braun siblings for an abduction. After one hour of the girls’ sniveling and Robert’s belligerent shouting, any man, no matter how hardened a criminal, would be regretting his rash actions.
Isabella silently chastised herself for her unkind thoughts. The Braun children might not be the most likable individuals she had ever encountered, but she had a duty to care for them, and she would perform her duty to the very best of her abilities. Including keeping the children safe from kidnappers, real or imagined.
In all honesty, Isabella admitted to herself, she was very fortunate to have this particular position. At twenty-five, she had already been dismissed from three previous jobs, and she could ill afford to lose another post.
Isabella’s eyes darted speculatively around the park, searching again for signs of danger. The Braun children were alone by the edge of the pond, engaged in a heated verbal battle Isabella feared would soon escalate into a physical one. She began walking toward them, deciding she had merely been allowing her active imagination to override her common sense, when a deep voice behind her nearly startled the wits out of her.
“My God, Emmeline, is it really you?”
Isabella stiffened in alarm. She jerked her head quickly toward the voice, not certain what to expect. She held her breath in fear, but slowly let it out when she viewed the man who had spoken.
