Page 28 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“Is that all you ladies have done this afternoon?” Sir Isaac asked with a crooked sort of smile. “Paint?”

“What Miss Wedgewood does is not quite painting.” The countess pursed her lips in thought a moment. “It is drawing upon wood, and occasionally woodcarving is involved, too. I confess, though I have seen the products of such work before, I never quite understood the amount of patience and talent it takes to complete them.”

“Too busy with your paints to pay attention to other forms?” Sir Isaac asked his sister, sounding terribly disappointed in her, though the sparkle in his eyes indicated that he meant to nettle her.

It struck Millie as quite a contrast, how relaxed Sir Isaac was at his sister’s as compared to how he had been the night of the marchioness’s dinner party. Perhaps his change in social behavior was due to his comfort in more familiar environs.

Whatever the case, Millie determined she felt more at ease among the people of Inglewood than she had in quite some time. Though she had been in company with them at the vicarage, and that had been a uniquely awful evening, Isaac’s acceptance of her changed everything.

She rose to the countess’s defense, her own tone playful. “Elder siblings are forever causing trouble. Come now, Sir Isaac. You must know your sister is an accomplished artist. Why, I have seen a rendering of you she created with charcoal, and she managed to almost make you appear handsome.”

Lord Inglewood laughed. “That does mark my wife as a talented artist, if she can manage such a thing for you, Isaac.”

The baronet lifted his cup to Millie, as though toasting her. “I will admit to my sister’s superior skill with charcoal and brush, and thank Miss Wedgewood for the compliment paid to me. For if she can find me handsome when my visage is naught but a smudge of coal on paper, she must be positively dazzled by me in person.”

Everyone laughed, including Millie. She had seen evidence enough of Sir Isaac’s wit once she realized he was the impertinent grounds man, and his more lighthearted conversation of the evening proved further he was not so stern a man as she had thought him at first. He merely exercised caution around newcomers, protective of himself and the people for which he cared. Most endearing of him, actually.

“While we were enthralled by paints and ink,” Millie said at last, “what were you gentlemen doing to entertain yourselves?”

Isaac groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Do not ask, Miss Wedgewood. You will force us all to sit through my brother-in-law’s long-winded explanations of politics. As I have already been forced to listen to him all afternoon, I would prefer you change the subject. With haste.”

The earl did not appear at all offended. “Miss Wedgewood might have a better head for politics than you do, Isaac, but as you seem to equate the subject with torture, I will leave it alone for the time being.” He turned in his chair to better face Millie. “We mostly discussed politics, Miss Wedgewood, and of all the things I should like to propose next Season. We discussed agriculture for a time, too. Nothing of great entertainment.”

“How terribly sad for you both.” The countess brightened. “I have had an excellent idea. Day after tomorrow, you should both come and enjoy some true diversion.” She turned to Millie. “Do you think you can get away again, Miss Wedgewood? Or will your hosts mind? I thought we could spend time enjoying the seaside. And the gardener informs me we have enough odds and ends for a bit of a bonfire. If you can come, I thought I would invite some of our neighborhood friends to make an evening of it.”

A seaside bonfire? Nothing had ever sounded as exciting, as grand, as that simple enjoyment. Yet with her decision to not aid Lady Olivia, she may not be welcomed in that house for long. She had to consider the invitation carefully. “I should very much like to join you,” she admitted readily. “I feel I must ascertain if Lady Olivia would mind my absence another evening.”

“Invite her, too, if you must,” Lord Inglewood said, not at all enthusiastic. “So long as that brother of hers stays away, I care not who else comes.”

The countess pursed her lips, looking as though she might disagree, but Sir Isaac came into the conversation as though to head off an argument.

“The bonfires on Inglewood beach are always enjoyable. We can usually persuade a few friends to bring instruments so there is singing. Sometimes dancing.”

“That does not sound at all civilized,” Millie remarked, turning her attention to her plate. “Dancing around a fire, on a beach. One must necessarily think such things are rather wild.”

“With Grace Barnes in attendance?” the countess asked, a laugh in her words. “Never. I can assure you, Miss Wedgewood, we are all very well-mannered and respectable. The vicar and his wife will come, I am certain. Though Grace is not likely to take part in all the merriment, given her delicate state.”

As delightful as the evening sounded, Millie still did not commit to attending. “I will certainly let you know, as soon as possible, if I can be present.”

They took enough pity on her to turn the conversation to other things. Millie attempted to enjoy the simplicity of the evening, all the while ignoring the storm of worry brewing in her mind.

* * *

Isaac prepared to take his leave shortly after Miss Wedgewood and her maid left in the Inglewood coach. He had said good night to his sister and stood in the entryway, his hat in hand, when Silas appeared from upstairs.

“Isaac,” he called down, voice low enough not to carry far. “Do wait a moment.”

“Of course. Is something wrong?” Isaac tucked his hat beneath his left arm. He knew it looked odd; to place things there emphasized more of what he lacked than what still remained, but Silas would not care, so Isaac did not either.

Silas came down the steps quickly, though not with great urgency. “I wanted to speak with you about Miss Wedgewood.”

With nothing to say to that pronouncement, Isaac cocked an eyebrow at his friend and waited for more. They had spent nearly all afternoon in each other’s company and Silas never once brought up Essie’s new friend. To do so at the end of a long day was odd.

When Silas stood only a few paces away from Isaac, his expression easily read as perplexed. “I did not want to say anything before. I know Esther likes the woman, and she does tend to be a good judge of character. But Esther also gives people around her more forgiveness and compassion than most. I have tried to remember where I heard the name, Wedgewood, before. You moved about in Society before the war. Do you know her people? Anything about her?”

“Not really. Nothing more than what she has shared. Her family fell out of favor a few years previous, and her parents think that Miss Wedgewood’s time with the marquess’s family might repair those circumstances.” Isaac offered a doubtful shrug. “Society is fickle, so something as simple as Lady Olivia inviting Miss Wedgewood to spend the summer with her could restore whatever position they enjoyed before.”

After a moment of consideration, Silas conceded that point. “I suppose I understand that logic, though it seems impractical. But still. It strikes me as odd how little Miss Wedgewood actually speaks of her family. Yet earlier this evening, when you were all speaking of painting, she spoke of ‘troublesome elder siblings.’ As if she had one of her own.”