He shook his head. “I’d like to hear what you have to say first.”
“Very well.” Sophia interlocked her cold fingers, taking a deep breath. She wanted to tell him about the letter she had written to Lord Finchley, but she was suddenly struck with a pang of fear. What if Isaac didn’t react as she hoped? What if her mother was right…and there was a very good reason she should stay away from him? She still didn’t know why her father had kept her away from him, and she still didn’t know why he had falsely led Miss Baker to believe he would marry her. Perhaps the Lord Finchley news should stay a secret for a little longer.
“I told my mother how we suspected my father forged the letters,” she began. “When I asked her why he did it, she refused to answer. She claimed that she was bound to secrecy before his death. She was still insistent that I avoid youandMorvoren house.” Sophia’s heart pounded as she looked up at Isaac and his open, kind features. What could possibly be so dangerous about him?
“I think I know why,” he said in a grim voice.
Sophia froze. “What?”
Isaac glanced down the corridor before reaching down to take her hand. “Come with me.” He led her past the drawing room to another door with light flickering behind it. He released her hand as they stepped into a room that must have been the study. A long desk was at the center, with papers and books lining the shelves behind it. “I found a false wall in the wine cellar this afternoon,” Isaac said. “Behind it was a cellar full of smuggled crates from Spain and France.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped.
“My servant enlightened me about the history of the operation, and how my grandfather conducted the business out of desperation. But I also learned that Percy, with the help of my steward, has been carrying on our grandfather’s legacy.”
Sophia’s mind spun. “Percy has been smuggling goods into Morvoren? How?”
“Besides working with my steward, he could also be coordinating his efforts with dozens of my tenants, local miners, or other tradesmen looking for additional profit, and taking the bulk of it for himself.”
“And that’s why he wanted Lanveneth so badly.” Sophia covered her mouth as the realization dawned on her. “He could double his efforts and his profit with the use of another route.” Her heart sank. “But how will you prove you weren’t involved?”
Isaac rifled through the papers on the desk, withdrawing one that looked like a letter. “My steward wouldn’t have expected my sudden arrival, so it seems he neglected to burn this correspondence between himself and Percy.” Isaac met her gaze. “It details their upcoming shipments and the plans to secure them. It’s all the evidence I need to put a stop to it all.”
Sophia took a step back as she connected the pieces in her mind. “My father must have discovered evidence of your grandfather’s smuggling. That must have been why he drove us apart.”
“That was my conclusion as well.” Isaac folded the letter and tucked it into his waistcoat.
Sophia swallowed, gripping the sides of her skirts. Her father must have known something and feared that connecting herself to Isaac could put her in danger. Any association with smuggling could taint even the most pristine reputation.
But why hadn’t her father told her the truth?
Why go to the effort of fabricating those letters? Perhaps he thought it was the only way to keep them apart forever. He had wanted their farewell to last that long, after all. He had likely expected that Sophia would marry sooner, and that Isaac would not have had a chance to cross paths with her again.
“He was trying to protect you.” Isaac’s voice broke through her thoughts, and his face came into view again. “From me.”
“From your grandfather’s secrets, not from you.” Sophia took a deep, quaking breath. “My father liked you very much.”
Isaac’s lips curved upward. “Very much?” He looked down at his desk. “More or less thanyouliked me?”
Sophia’s face burned, but she laughed. “Much more.”
When Isaac looked up, he was smiling. At least he had understood her joke. Why could she not tell him how she truly felt? Why was she continuing to avoid the subject? Her heart raced, as if urging her to run away. It was still afraid of being hurt.
Was Aunt Hester right? Did he still love her?
His actions seemed to have made it obvious, yet she was still terrified to know the answer. For years she had forbidden herself to trust him again. She was still learning how to lower her defenses. Isaac was tearing them down one by one, and she shivered in the vulnerability of it all.
She remembered what he had told her about his grandfather’s death that night in Lord Finchley’s study. She had still been in Cornwall when it happened, and yet she hadn’t been there to support him. She hadn’t known the pain he was going through. When she had received her forged letter from Isaac, that had been the only pain she was forced to endure, but Isaac had been struck with two blows at once. She couldn’t imagine how he must have suffered, all alone in his grief. It was no wonder why he left Cornwall and all its sorrows behind.
She searched for a change of subject. He was standing far too close to her in that dim room, and it reminded her once again of that night in Lord Finchley’s study when he had kissed her hand. “How did you escape Lord Finchley’s study the night of his party?” she asked. She had been wondering about the answer.
Isaac’s eyebrow lifted, and a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t manage to escape until morning.”
She leaned forward with a jolt of surprise. “You cannot be serious.”
