Page 19 of Engaging Sir Isaac

The married couple exchanged a glance heavy with meaning. It was as though they held a full conversation in no more than a single look.

“I think that would be perfect,” Jacob said. Grace nodded her approval.

With the party already broken up, Isaac did not feel the least bit guilty for leaving immediately after his surrender. The ride home in the dusk, as the sun had only just begun to set, proved refreshing. The sea breeze drifted inland, and he took in deep draughts of the briny air.

Miss Wedgewood had intruded upon his land and somehow found a place among his friends, all while the guest of a woman he could not help but despise. Lady Olivia’s conduct, her morals, and everything about her character caused him to doubt anyone who claimed a relationship with the marquess’s daughter. But if he had misjudged the situation, and Miss Wedgewood, he would admit his fault.

To know for certain, Isaac had no alternative but to attempt to further the acquaintance with the young woman.

Chapter 7

After answering all of Lady Olivia’s intrusive questions the night before, Millie hoped to avoid another encounter with the rather upset noblewoman for the rest of the day. She hadn’t meant for her visit with the baronet and his friends to end sourly, but given his complete animosity toward her, Millie had no desire to remain near him until she formed a new plan.

The humiliation she felt, sitting next to him while he had scoffed at her, truly made her ill at ease. Not to mention his questions regarding her family. Always it came back to her family, to their reputation, to Emmeline and her mistake.

Thinking on it that morning, sitting at her art table with Sarah in the corner reading a book, Millie’s hand trembled too much for her to do the delicate ink work on the little wooden box. So, she had taken to preparing scraps of paper for quilling instead. Twisting the colored paper into tight circles required little elegance, though the placing of the paper would eventually mean regaining control over her emotions.

It is not as though you can befriend any of them. Not the countess, the vicar’s wife, or anyone else with a relationship to Sir Isaac. It was her duty to expose him to Society, after all. To find the means to humiliate him. Hurt his reputation. None of his friends would thank her for that.

Her enjoyment at their welcome was foolish. A mistake. One she could not repeat. If the earl and his wife knew of what Emmeline had done when she ran off with her ridiculous solicitor, they would shun Millie as everyone else had shunned her family.

They were not her friends, nor could they ever be so. But she had to earn their trust to get close to Sir Isaac.

It was not as though he had shown any interest in spending time in her company, however.

A knock at the door startled Millie from her thoughts. She stood and smoothed the skirt of her gown. “Come in.” No one but the servants knocked, she had learned. Lady Olivia and her brother came and went from every room with the full confidence of those who owned the house and everything in it.

The door opened, and a footman stepped inside. He bowed. “Sir Isaac Fox to see you, Miss Wedgewood.”

Her honest shock kept her from doing more than opening her mouth to reply. But the footman withdrew, leaving the door open, and Sir Isaac stepped inside the little art room.

“Miss Wedgewood.” He said her name with less distaste than the evening before. Almost politely. Then he bowed, his dark eyes barely meeting her gaze before looking away.

Belatedly, she curtsied. What had brought him to her? The night before, everything he had said, how he’d acted, had spoken loudly of his dislike for her.

“What is this room?” he asked, his brows drawing down.

She looked about, knowing he saw what she had the first time she entered it. The room was small. Not at all well-appointed. At the rear of the house, away from all the important rooms. The window let in some usable light, but she had taken to keeping a lamp lit upon the table when she worked. The chairs were not even very comfortable, but straight-backed and wooden.

“It is a room for pursuing artistic endeavors,” she said at last, lowering her eyes to her twists of paper upon the table. She hadn’t even been working upon something impressive. He would think her such a simpleton—not that she cared what he thought so long as she accomplished her goals.

“Oh. My sister would say it is unsuitable for such pursuits.” One side of his mouth went upward, as though he meant to smile but forgot how to manage such an action.

“I would agree with her,” she admitted with honesty. Then Millie remembered her manners. “Will you sit down, Sir Isaac? I could send for refreshment—”

He raised his hand to wave the offer aside. “That will not be necessary. I have come merely to look in on you, Miss Wedgewood. You left quickly last night, and my sister told me you were unwell.”

Millie stared at him, shocked. Likely his sister had put him up to the visit, too. “Thank you, Sir Isaac. I am much better today.”

His head jerked downward in what might have passed for a nod of approval. “Excellent. I am glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “I hope you remain well.” He appeared as uncomfortable in the situation as she had been the previous evening. Perhaps she ought to extend an olive branch. There was something almost endearing about the way he stood, tall and straight, but with the air of a boy who had been caught in mischief.

“That is most kind of you, Sir Isaac. Thank you. Please, if you see your sister before I do, give her my compliments. She was most gracious when she brought me home, and I am sorry I broke up the dinner party earlier than what was expected.” There. If he would not apologize for his behavior, she could at least make certain to do so.

Sir Isaac finally met her gaze with his, puzzlement appearing in his warm brown eyes. Heavens, but the man was attractive. Perhaps that was where his arrogance stemmed from, knowing that he was handsome. Though one might think the loss of his arm would humble him, that unfortunate result of war did nothing to detract from his appearance.

“No one worried over the early evening,” he said at last. “But there was a great deal of worry in regard to you. My sister and Mrs. Barnes, they have gentle hearts. I know they both hope to count you as a friend. They were distressed that you could not remain.” He lowered his eyes and cleared his throat. “In fact, if there was anything that I did to hasten your departure, I must apologize for it. I am not the best of company of late. I do not always think before I speak, and—”

An actual apology. A moment before, she never would have expected such a thing. She hastened to interrupt him, wishing to put him at ease. “Not at all, Sir Isaac. Please, think no more of it.”