Page 9 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“My lady.” Miss Wedgewood curtsied prettily, without showing any of the displeasure she had displayed only moments before. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I have had the good fortune of seeing one of your paintings, in London, this last winter.”

Isaac blinked, surprised, and looked to his side to see his sister blush.

“Oh, really? I have given several pieces away. You must tell me which you saw, so I may apologize for the lack of skill in its creation.” Esther’s smile was entirely too self-deprecating.

Miss Wedgewood laughed, the sound unaffected and oddly pleasing. “I understand you perfectly, my lady. I often feel the same about my work. No matter how much attention and love I put into my pieces, I can only see the flaws. I assure you, the painting I saw was lovely. It was of the sea, with gulls in a gray sky, at Mrs. Parr’s home. I went to an evening of poetry at her townhouse.”

Esther’s grip on Silas’s arm relaxed. “I did enjoy that one. Did you say you are an artist, too? Do you paint?”

“Not with oils, and rarely with watercolors.” Miss Wedgewood did not even glance his way again. She had ruined all his amusement by instantly forming a connection to his sister. Worse still, she spoke with complete sincerity in her compliments. “I prefer other mediums. I do like to work with ink and wood, making over furniture in the ebony and ivory style. And quilling fascinates me as well.”

Esther’s eyebrows raised. Isaac hadn’t the faintest idea what they were speaking of and started to ask when the room’s attention was called to order and they were asked to enter the dining room.

The usual shuffle began as women determined who outranked who. Isaac at least knew his place, escorting his sister. She was the second-highest ranked woman present, after Lady Alderton.

“I wonder how someone such as that came to be acquainted with the family?” Esther murmured to him. “I do not think anyone has ever known me through my painting before.” She sounded pleased, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that made him chuckle.

“You do have talent, Essie.” He gave her an affectionate smile, then assisted her into her chair. He was then shown to his own place at the table by a footman, closer to the middle than he expected given that most present were gentlemen. It was not as though he minded the slight, though. With the marquess and his heir away, Lord Neil occupied one end of the table and his mother the other. Lady Olivia was near to her mother’s right hand. The farther Isaac was from each of them, the more likely he was to enjoy his meal.

And then Miss Wedgewood was seated next to him.

* * *

Millie’s shock at seeing the impertinent grounds man at the grand dinner, then realizing he had been her quarry all along, had taken more time to wear off. His sister’s art had been a merciful change in topic, allowing her time to regain her mental balance. At least she could compliment Lady Inglewood’s artwork sincerely, though Lady Olivia disliked the woman as much as she did the baronet.

Lady Olivia had contrived to put Millie and Sir Isaac next to each other at dinner. Perhaps Millie could make up for her earlier tart behavior during the course of the meal. After all, nothing truly unpleasant had passed between them. He may only think her an overly curious sort.

Once their first course was before them, a broth-like concoction the color of cream, Millie sent her seatmate a tentative smile. A flirtatious, innocent character would likely be the best to play. “Sir Isaac, you ought not have teased me so when we first met.”

One of his eyebrows rose, but he did not even turn to face her when he answered. “Did I tease you? I am not certain I would call the tone of our conversation teasing.”

“Perhaps not entirely.” She allowed herself a spoonful of soup before continuing. “I did spend most of my day wondering about you, though.”

“About me?” he asked, his tone still lacking interest. “Do you mean the supposedly mad baronet you were warned about or the rude grounds man?”

Millie pushed an airy laugh from her lungs. “Both, of course. Your deception was quite clever, sir.”

His eyebrow tilted upward again, then lowered into a frown. She hadn’t impressed him, it would seem. He did not succumb to flattery easily. “I hope your curiosity on the matter has been satisfied.” He spoke dryly, without so much as a smile.

“I am afraid not,” she said, sighing dramatically. “I only have more questions about you, and I will not rest until they are all answered.” Surely that flirtatious comment, accompanied by one of her prettiest smiles, ought to draw him in. Most men delighted in speaking of themselves, bragging about their accomplishments, puffing up as a prized rooster in a hen yard when paid the least bit of attention.

But Isaac Fox was not a rooster, nor did he take her sweetly baited offer of conversation. “You will have to find your answers elsewhere, Miss Wedgewood. I am afraid I am not nearly so interesting as you seem to believe.”

He pointedly turned away, toward the gentleman on his other side, and began a conversation on the topic of growing hay.

The man would rather speak of farming grass than to her.

Millie winced and put her soup spoon down, ready to try something else, even if it was merely the second course.

Chapter 4

Millie sat in the little art room of the second floor, staring out the window without really seeing the gray clouds rolling in for a summer storm. A sheet of paper lay before her, filled with intricate ink drawings of flowers and birds and ivy, twisting about each other in elegant swirls. She had completed the work that morning and intended to use it as a pattern for her next project, likely a box for her father’s pipes. She only needed to decide what to put in the center of the lid. Usually she put a larger scene, such as a couple dancing, or a ship upon water, in the middle of whatever object she worked upon.

Sarah sat in the corner of the room, mending one of Millie’s dresses they hadn’t realized had a torn hem until she had put it on. A soft knock at the door made Millie hastily correct her posture. “You may come inside,” she said, rising from her chair to face the door.

Lord Neil entered, the same confident laziness in his posture as the day before. “Miss Wedgewood. I am glad I found you here. I have a question to put to you.”

She clasped her hands before her, relaxed and smiling. “I hope I have the answer you seek, my lord.”