Page 69 of Engaging Sir Isaac

Isaac grew still as the questions settled in his heart.

Esther accused him of attempting to save everyone. Play the part of the rescuer. But what if he felt that way, acted that way, for a reason? What if he was meant to be a rescuer? He had the ear of the Earl of Inglewood, and others of Silas’s circle of political allies. He had the time, too, to do something for his brothers in arms who returned from war and felt as lost as he had.

A knock interrupted the productive line of thinking.

At Isaac’s command, the butler strode inside and bowed. “Sir Isaac, Lord Neil Duncan is here to see you. I have shown him into the front parlor, sir.”

“Lord Neil?” Isaac did not bother to hide the skepticism in his tone. “Thank you. I will go to him directly.”

They avoided each other, except when it was absolutely necessary to converse. Showing up at Isaac’s house was strange. Isaac did not waste time thinking the oddity over, however, and went to see what the man wanted.

Lord Neil stood in the middle of the parlor, admiring a painting hanging over the mantel. It was one of Esther’s, of course, of Woodsbridge itself, bathed in cheerful sunlight. The lordling looked over his shoulder when Isaac entered the room, his sideways smile appearing.

“Your sister has a great talent. This is one of hers, is it not?”

“My sister will never be a topic of conversation between us, Lord Neil.” Isaac did not bother to bow since the other man had already ignored common politeness. “What are you doing here?”

Lord Neil turned to fully face Isaac, and that was when Isaac saw the box in his neighbor’s hands. A box he had glimpsed before, a time or two, while Millie worked upon it.

“I have come to deliver this to you, though why I am made errand boy I cannot imagine.” He came forward and put the box upon a table near Isaac. Thoughtful of him, considering it would be difficult for Isaac to manage the wide rectangular object with a single hand.

“You should not have troubled yourself,” Isaac said, unable to take his eyes from the artfully rendered fox upon the box’s hinged lid. It was all in black and ivory, quite beautiful. The inked fox looked almost alive, peering up at him with its long tail lowered to wrap around a leg. Vines and grasses covered the rest of the lid and twined down to the box’s sides.

It really was a work of art.

Lord Neil shrugged, his eyelids falling somewhat, as though he were bored. “I wanted to see your reaction to it, to be honest. I find that Miss Wedgewood stirs the strangest of emotions in people. The letter she instructed me to give to my sister, for instance, left Olivia shrieking and spitting rather like an angry cat. Most diverting.”

“Why would you have to deliver a letter to your sister?” Isaac asked, approaching the table. “Surely the two women could pass their own notes to each other.” He ran his hand across the edge of the box, feeling light etches in the wood made to keep the ink in place and providing greater depth to the image. It was not a painting, such as Esther’s, but it was unique and quite fine.

Why had Millie sent it to him? He would not keep away from her. So if it was meant as a goodbye—

“Oh, you did not know?” Lord Neil’s tone was sly and smooth as ever. “I suppose you could not. Miss Wedgewood disappeared from our house this morning. All her things were left with a letter instructing me how to dispatch them.”

Isaac jerked his head up, unable to keep his shock inside. “She what?”

“Disappeared.” Lord Neil waved his hand through the air. “Her note said she wished her things sent to her parents’ country home, then there was a letter addressed to me. I had a note to send to her parents, a note for Olivia, and the instruction to bring you this box.” He nodded to the box upon the table.

Isaac stared down again, swallowing back a string of oaths. She left without a goodbye. If she thought that would keep him from following her—

“There are notes inside.”

His poor humor made him snap. “Have you read them?”

Without shame, the man grinned. “I have. As I said, the woman makes me curious.”

This time, Isaac did swear, but Lord Neil only chuckled. Isaac flipped open the lid. Two papers were inside. One folded, neatly, and the other appearing to have been crumpled and smoothed out again.

He took the undamaged paper first and saw it bore the name of a street, town, and county in cramped, uneven handwriting. He narrowed his eyes, uncertain, before dropping it in favor of the crumpled paper. It was an unfinished letter. As he read, he wondered if Millie had meant to send it to him at all.

Dear Isaac,

My Dearest Sir Isaac,

My thoughts are muddled, swirling like mud and water, refusing to settle. I am at once grateful for all you have done, for your friendship, and regretful that we ever had to meet. Especially under such horrid circumstances.

From the first moment I saw you, pretending you were a groundskeeper, I have thought you handsome, witty, and most infuriating. Yet now that I know you better, I see so much more. You are kind, protective, honorable. You are a man without equal.

I wish I was worthy of you.