Page 25 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“I find myself curious what you would say about me outside of my hearing,” he admitted, making his way to the fountain to sit upon its edge. “Especially to my entirely impressionable nephew.”

She peered up at him from beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet. “Impressionable?” The auburn-haired woman wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at his nephew, who squealed a happy response. “You see, he is not at all impressionable. He knows I am a silly woman. He will not take me seriously at all.”

Isaac chuckled and folded his arm across his chest, tucking it beneath what remained of his other arm. “You are adept at teasing my curiosity, Miss Wedgewood.”

“Do you hear your uncle?” she asked the baby with an animated expression. “He will not let us alone until we have shared all our secrets. Really. The man has no sense of decorum.” She extracted one hand from the baby and used it to introduce the ribbon from her bonnet to him, dangling it just out of reach. Little Isaac’s focus immediately went to the brightly colored ribbon, and he released her fingers completely in order to grasp the satin instead.

“That may not have been wise,” Isaac noted, thinking of the state of his cravat any time he held his nephew near. His valet always sighed rather hopelessly when Isaac returned from a visit with the child.

Millie shrugged, not the least bit bothered when Little Isaac put the end of the ribbon in his mouth. “I neglected to bring any toys with me. Your sister had an unfortunate accident with a large pot of paints. This wee one was in the room with us, and most upset by the lack of attention. I brought him outside while his mama went to change and clean up. The outdoors always puts me on the mend when I am out of sorts.”

Isaac studied her face, the slight upturn of her nose, the freckles dotting her cheeks. How old was she? Over the age most ladies of rank or means came out into Society. “I feel the same. I have been walking about all morning trying to regain my balance, actually.”

Why had he made that confession?

The woman’s head tilted, but whether from curiosity or the way his nephew tugged at the ribbon, Isaac could not tell.

“Are you off balance often?” she asked.

“No.” He lied. But it was the only acceptable answer a man in his position could make. “Are you?”

She lowered his nephew to the blanket and tugged off her bonnet, putting it on the ground next to the baby so he could more easily entertain himself with the ribbons.

“I would never admit to being anything other than perfectly poised.” She flashed him a smile, granting him a brief glimpse of her dimple again. His breath caught for a moment, startled by how attractive that expression made her.

He needed to move about in Society more. Never in his life had he been attracted to a woman with her coloring, or her petite frame. He much preferred women with golden curls and tall, willowy forms. Before the war, that was the sort of woman who had turned his head. Not that he had paid much attention to women at all since his return. A fact his sister constantly brought up in conversation.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, and Isaac blinked, realizing she had caught him staring at her.

“Not at all. Merely thinking.” He nodded to the blanket. “Might I join you down there? I actually came up to the house to pay a call on Isaac.”

“That might be confusing someday. The shared name.” She smiled and moved aside, creating a larger spot for him to sit. “I think that is why I am not precisely named for my mother. She wished to avoid any difficulty a shared name would bring.”

Isaac left the fountain for the blanket, settling upon it and leaning forward to gain the baby’s notice. The child’s eyes narrowed at him a moment, then the baby squealed and started kicking his legs in excitement.

Isaac could not hold back his smile when his namesake recognized him. “Good afternoon to you, too,” he said. “I hope you have conducted yourself as a gentleman in Miss Wedgewood’s company.”

“Quite so,” Millie answered while the baby kicked and made contented baby sounds. “He is the perfect companion, and an expert at listening without interrupting.” She leaned back, resting her weight on her hands, and turned her face up to the sunlight. “I fully expect he keeps confidences, too.” She closed her eyes, and he heard the deep breath she drew in.

Isaac rescued her hat’s ribbon from the baby. He tugged off the glove he wore using his teeth and then dangled that above Little Isaac until the baby caught the soft leather in his hands.

Without his permission, his eyes went back to Millie. He traced her profile, the softness in her face. But there was no peace in her expression, gentle or not. He could see tension in the curve of her neck, the slight downturn of her lips. Though someone else might think her repose was one of contentment, Isaac sensed something else entirely.

“You perplex me, Miss Wedgewood.” The observation slipped out before he knew he wished to speak it aloud.

A tight smile appeared on her lips. “I believe that is what ladies are supposed to do to gentlemen, sir.” She tipped her head to the side and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze directly. “You have but to ask it, and I will tell you whatever you wish to know.”

“You said you are with the marquess’s family due to your mother’s wishes. Mothers wishing to better their social standing, and that of their children, are no unusual thing. But why do you bear the burden of your whole family? And why the Marquess of Alderton?”

A line appeared in her forehead briefly but smoothed away again as she adopted a more ladylike posture. Which was impressive, considering they both sat upon the ground. “Lady Olivia presented an opportunity, and an acceptable rung of Society. My mother is not used to where we have settled. My family, until only a few years ago, held a much more respected place.”

The baby started to fuss, likely upset about the lack of attention upon him. Isaac carefully turned the little one over, giving him the amusement of pushing himself up on his chubby arms. The boy would be crawling about on all fours soon, if his nursemaid was to be believed.

“What happened to lower your family’s esteem?” he asked, watching his nephew. “I have been out of Society myself for many years, with the war, so I cannot say I am at all aware of your family or their circumstances.”

“That is a very direct question,” she murmured. “But as you would learn the answer soon enough if you asked the right people, I suppose there is no harm in telling you our history.” Her voice had softened, almost to a whisper. Then the silence stretched long enough that Isaac looked up again, eyebrows raised. He knew the question was impertinent. Most would find it bordering on rudeness.

Her face had paled, and her lips pressed together so tightly they were bloodless. But she did not appear ready to cry. Rather, a flame of hostility danced in her eyes. The tilt of her chin was fierce, almost daring. She was not, he realized in that moment, a woman one wished to cross. There was fire beneath her skin, burning in anger.