Jenkins gave the earl a shrewd look. “I assume this will not be a social call.”
“Hardly.”
“Are you going to ask for her hand in marriage?”
Damien turned so quickly, he banged his shin against the bed frame. “Damn!” Bending at the waist, he vigorously rubbed the bruised leg, his gray eyes pinned on his valet. “I need no one’s permission to marry Isabella, least of all that of a self-important earl who lacks the good sense to appreciate what a truly remarkable person she is.”
“Then why are you going?”
Damien pierced his valet with an exasperated stare. “You know everything that goes on in this house, Jenkins. Usually before I do. I can scarcely believe you missed the drama that unfolded in the salon last evening after dinner.”
Jenkins grinned sheepishly. “Lord Poole certainly turned Miss Browning’s world upside down with his revelations,” Jenkins said. “Do you believe she is related to Poole?”
“I am trying not to think about the matter too closely.” The earl threw three linen handkerchiefs onto the bed. “What I truly desire is to smash my fist into Poole’s smug face,” Damien said as the anger flared within him. “Unfortunately, that will solve nothing.”
Jenkins reached across the bed and began neatly folding the earl’s clothes. “You do realize, Damien, that you could end up losing her. Poole can offer her a far more comfortable life. A place in high society, elegant clothes and jewels, evenings spent at balls and parties and the theater. Given her meager existence working as a governess these past few years, Poole’s rich, pampered lifestyle could easily turn Miss Browning’s head.”
“She is not like other women. It will take far more than a few baubles to impress Isabella.” The earl gave Jenkins a long, searching look. “She brings out emotions and feelings in me I never knew existed. Her pain affects me, Jenkins, and I am compelled to do whatever I can to help ease it.”
“Are you in love with this woman, Damien?”
The earl lowered his gaze, shocked to feel his ears warming with embarrassment. “I don’t know.”
Jenkins stared at Damien’s bent head with knowing eyes and concerned features. “Poole will try to turn her against you while you are gone.”
“I suspect he’ll try,” Damien said with a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. “However, I am not a complete fool. You will be here, and in my absence I expect you to keep things under control. And make certain you pay particularly close attention to our unexpected houseguest.”
The valet’s back stiffened with pride. “I shall do my best.”
“Excellent.” Damien nodded his approval. “I will write a note for Isabella, explaining only that I have left The Grange on urgent business. I prefer that she not know where I am going. The last thing I want is to raise false hopes.”
Damien removed a sheet of paper from his small writing desk and quickly dashed off the letter while Jenkins packed the satchel of clothing. Handing the note to Jenkins, the earl added, “Be sure to deliver it to Isabella when she is alone.”
“Of course.”
The two men left the room, heading for the stables after Damien vetoed Jenkins’s suggestion of a hearty breakfast before beginning his journey. His course set, Damien was anxious to begin his trip and would not waste time waiting for an uninspiring meal from Mrs. Amberly.
Jenkins insisted on saddling the earl’s horse, and Damien paced the stables impatiently. Dawn was slowly breaking, and a faint mist covered the grass, permeating the air with a clean, sweet smell.
Jenkins led the earl’s large stallion out to the stableyard. Damien swung up on his horse and gripped the reins tightly.
“Is there anything else you want done while you’re away, Damien?”
The earl thought for a moment. “Poole has said nothing about the mortgages he holds against The Grange, but I feel certain he will begin pressing me for the funds very soon.”
“Shall I make some discreet inquires about the value of the artwork hanging in the long gallery?” Jenkins asked.
Damien looked broodingly off into the distance. “As much as it angers me to think of selling off Ian’s inheritance a piece at a time, it might be the only way to save the estate.”
“Of course I could always find Lady Anne’s treasure,” Jenkins said with a faint trace of humor in his voice. “Even if the treasure is only half of its reputed worth there will be more than enough funds to pay off Lord Poole.”
“Why not?” The earl gave his valet a grim smile. “Then after you have discovered the treasure, you may as well round up a few unicorns. I daresay Catherine and Ian will be enchanted with the notion of keeping a pair of them in our stables.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jenkins replied with good grace.
The earl shook his head. How like Jenkins to try to ease these difficulties with a spot of humor. Yet the valet’s unwavering loyalty gave Damien a feeling of strength. It made the impossibilities of the situation seem slightly less daunting knowing he wasn’t facing them entirely alone.
A shaft of bright sunshine hit Damien’s sleeve, warning him that the hour grew late. Giving Jenkins a salute of farewell, the earl dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and tore off down the drive at a clipping pace, trying hard not to think overmuch on the problems he was leaving behind and what truths he might discover at the end of this impulsive journey.
