“No, no. Not a word. You must go to your aunt at once,” Lachlan said, but his jaw had gone tight. He wished Lord Dare’s aunt a quick recovery, but he couldn’t help cursing the timing. Isla needed as many earls and countesses as they could get to support her claim to London society. Losing Lord and Lady Dare was a blow.
But there was nothing to be done for it. Within the hour, the servants had loaded their trunks onto their carriage, and they were on their way to Lord Dare’s estate in West Sussex.
Everyone stood about the drive for a moment after the carriage disappeared, then Lady Huntington said, “Shall we go upstairs and see Isla’s gowns now?”
Lachlan smothered a derisive snort.
Gowns, for God’s sake. If only it were as simple as a few pretty ball gowns.
Fashionable clothing would do Isla little good if she didn’t also have an army of aristocrats standing beside her when she faced theton. Unless Miss Somerset had some magical corsets and petticoats secreted away in her closet, or a few earls and a duke hidden among her underclothes, Isla’s success in London had just become a great deal less certain.
“Ball gowns are beyond my area of expertise.” Finn paused to kiss his wife’s hand, then clapped a hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. “Fancy a drink?”
“I bloody do,” Ciaran muttered, wandering off down the hallway toward Finn’s study.
“I’ll come in a moment.” Lachlan gestured for Finn to go ahead, as well. “I need some air first.”
Finn shrugged. “Very well.”
Lachlan waited until Finn and Ciaran disappeared behind the study doors, then he went up the stairs after the ladies. He caught up to them on the second floor, cupped Miss Somerset’s elbow in his palm and, before she could do more than gasp in surprise, he drew her around a corner and into a shallow alcove at the end of the hallway.
“Mr. Ramsey! W-what do you think you’re—”
“Do you want to help my sister, Miss Somerset?”
“Why, of course I do. What kind of question—”
“Isla is much worse off without Lord and Lady Dare’s support, but you and Lady Chase could offset their absence. If you want to help Isla, you’ll stay in London for the season with her, instead of going to Brighton.” They needed a spare aristocrat, and Lady Chase was a countess. As far as Lachlan was concerned, one aristocrat was as good as any other.
“I can’t stay in London without risking my health, Mr. Ramsey. My grandmother and sisters won’t hear of it.”
His gaze roamed over her face, taking in the fresh glow of her skin, the becoming flush of her cheeks. Damned if she didn’t look the picture of health to him. “They hover over you as if you’ll crumble to dust in a vigorous wind, but I didn’t see any sign of feebleness when you were jerking Lady Bagshot about as if she were a marionette dangling from a string.”
Her eyes flickered with surprise. “That’s different. That was…I was—”
“And the other day, in the stables, when you called me an ass, and told me I should be on display at the Royal Menagerie. Now I think on it, I’ve only ever seen you overwrought twice. The night of Lord and Lady Huntington’s ball, and just now, in the drawing room, when you wanted to distract your family from your success with Lady Bagshot.”
She bit nervously at her lower lip. “That’s nonsense, Mr. Ramsey. Why should I want to distract them?”
Lachlan dragged his gaze away from the temptation of her mouth, now pink and swollen from the punishment her teeth had inflicted. He met her eyes. “Because you’re hiding.”
She dismissed this with an awkward laugh. “Am I? Hiding from who?”
Despite the laugh, her eyes had gone wary, and Lachlan could see he was distressing her. The thread of gentlemanliness still buried deep inside him regretted it, but the other part of him—the rough part that lurked far closer to the surface—told him a little distress might move her in a way all the coddling in the world never would.
He moved closer to her, and his voice dropped to a murmur. “From your family, Hyacinth, and from yourself.”
She stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “How dare you? You’ve known me for less than a week, and you presume to tell me—”
“Such a waste. She’s remarkable, that lady underneath the one you pretend to be. So clever, such a razor-sharp wit hidden behind that sweet angel’s face.”
Her eyes went wide. “I’m not—I don’t pretend at anything, Mr. Ramsey.”
“Yes, you do. You’re not fragile or weak, except when it suits you. Maybe you were delicate at one time, when you were younger, but you’re not anymore.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and an angry wash of red stained her cheeks. “Are you accusing me of pretending to ill health to manipulate my family? You must think me a monster indeed, Mr. Ramsey, if you believe I’d do something so underhanded.”
It was quite a speech, and Lachlan couldn’t help noticing she didn’t stammer once.
