“I have traveled a good distance to see my sister’s children. And I have no intention of leaving until I do.”
Lord Poole! Isabella’s eyes widened in amazement as she realized the stranger’s identity. It was no wonder Damien and Jenkins were acting so oddly. Looking back and forth between the earl and Lord Poole, she clearly read the smoldering animosity. Isabella moved forward, hoping to somehow lend her assistance. Turning toward Lord Poole, she said beseechingly, “Perhaps it would be best if you called on us another day, sir.”
At the sound of her gentle voice, Poole broke eye contact with the earl and focused his attention on the woman who spoke. He had absently noted her presence when he first entered the room, but had paid her little heed. All his attention had been centered on Damien.
Turning his head aside, Lord Poole looked curiously down at Isabella. What little color he had in his face quickly drained away.
“My God,” he exclaimed in shocked disbelief. He took a small step toward her and reached out to touch her arm. “Emmeline? Can it truly be you?”
“If you so much as lay a finger on her, Poole, I shall take great delight in breaking it,” Damien declared, his voice low and lethal.
“Emmeline?” Lord Poole repeated softly, ignoring the earl’s threats, his deep blue eyes, never wavering, fixed on Isabella.
For a split second, Isabella wished she possessed the fortitude to enact the charade. How simple life would be for everyone, she thought morosely, if she was in truth the damnable Emmeline.
“ ’Tis said I bear a distinct resemblance to your sister, Lord Poole,” Isabella replied steadily. “You are hardly the first person to remark upon it.”
Isabella threw a challenging stare at Damien. He frowned at her, the firm set of his jaw declaring his determination to neither agree nor disagree with her remarks.
Isabella had no choice but to introduce herself. “I am Isabella Browning, Lord Poole. Governess to your niece Catherine and nephew Ian.” She would have offered her hand in greeting, but she was afraid Damien would not allow it.
Lord Poole looked puzzled, and for a minute or two was quiet as he weighed the introduction heavily in his mind. Then, giving Isabella a pensive, but not unfriendly look, he asked, “Are you really the governess?”
“Yes, she is,” Damien forced out through tight lips.
Lord Poole’s hollow laugh rang out loudly. “God almighty, Saunders, only you would be perverse enough to hire a governess who is the very image of my late sister.”
“Matters of my household are no concern of yours, Poole,” Damien retorted hotly. He definitely did not like the marked interest Poole was displaying toward Isabella. In another moment he half expected Poole to bow ceremoniously and kiss her hand in greeting. He doubted he would be able to control his temper if Poole actually touched her.
Shoving Jenkins out of the way, Damien stood toe to toe with his uninvited adversary. The sound of laughter died quickly as the room vibrated with their barely leashed hostility. The intense dislike between the two men was a tangible thing.
A muscle leaped in Lord Poole’s jaw, but he held his tongue. Damien’s temper burned brightly in his gray eyes, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
Jenkins scowled at the two men, knowing the slightest hint of an insult, spoken or gestured, would erupt in pandemonium. Moving close to the earl he whispered, “Remember, Damien. Keep thy friends close, and thine enemies closer.”
The valet’s words caused Damien to hesitate, then capitulate. Jenkins was right. Lord Poole had already declared his intention to visit Catherine and Ian. Damien knew from experience that Poole would not be dissuaded once his mind was set. He could keep a far better watch on Poole’s activities if the man was nearby. Yet the thought of sharing his roof with his former brother-in-law left a decidedly sour taste in the earl’s mouth.
Slowly Damien’s expression changed. He shrugged his shoulders. “If you truly have come all this way to see Catherine and Ian, I shall not prevent it,” he announced magnanimously. “In fact, I insist you stay at The Grange with us.” Damien’s smile was lethal.
Poole cleared his throat and fixed Damien with a penetrating look. “What a surprisingly civilized thing to do,” Lord Poole replied smoothly. “Naturally I shall accept.”
And then, to everyone’s mutual astonishment, Lord Poole smiled at Damien and offered his hand. Damien ignored it, but after a censoring glance from Jenkins, the earl grudgingly accepted.
“I feel certain this will be a most enlightening visit,” Lord Poole announced, his blue eyes never leaving Isabella. “Most enlightening.”
Chapter Sixteen
Isabella was fully prepared to despise Lord Poole. In a perverse way, she was almost looking forward to it. Here at last was something tangible toward which to project her feelings of anger and frustration. While it was true that the entire blame for Isabella’s current predicament could hardly be placed at Lord Poole’s feet, his accountability in her troubles was still significant and Isabella intended to make full use of it. Yet one obstacle to her plan quickly became apparent. Lord Poole proved to be both a charming and a likeable man.
“I’ve brought some trinkets for the children,” Lord Poole ventured from the schoolroom. doorway. “If you have no objections, I’d very much like to give these gifts to my niece and nephew.”
He stood a respectful distance away, clearly awaiting permission to enter the schoolroom. Isabella could not think of a valid reason to refuse his simple request without appearing shrewish.
“We have finished with our lessons for this afternoon. Please, come in, Lord Poole,” Isabella invited in a chilled tone. “Catherine, Ian, step forward so I may present you properly. This gentleman has traveled all the way from London to visit you. He is your Uncle ... ?” Isabella turned a questioning eye to Lord Poole.
“Thomas,” he supplied readily. “I am your Uncle Thomas. It would please me greatly if you would address me as such.”
Lord Poole entered the room casually, his arms laden with several parcels of various shapes and sizes. A few were tied with string, and one large box sported an impressive red bow with matching ribbons. Both Catherine and Ian moved toward the stranger curiously.
