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“Martha is correct, you know.” He kept his voice low, knowing that the rumble of the carriage wheels was enough to mask a private conversation.

She turned to him. “Correct about what?”

“You are truly remarkable.”

Her smile was strained. “I have offered up more than one prayer that I do not prove myself a remarkable failure this evening.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, swaying unexpectedly. Isla set her hand on the seat between them to steady herself.

“I am confident that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to,” he said.

“I wish that were true.”

“Believe it.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “All that you’ve learned in preparation for this evening notwithstanding, the way you have so masterfully altered your speech is proof enough.”

Isla gave him a knowing look. “You may tempt me all you wish, my lord. I shall not break down and say okay.”

Simon grinned. He had missed their bantering. “As we are without mounts at present, that might be for the best.”

She shook her head at the weak jest, but he noted that the tension in her fingers had lessened.

A servant opened the carriage door. Maidstone exited first, the extra cloak he’d brought with him tucked beneath his arm. He reached back to assist Martha. Simon followed, glad that he had the opportunity to reclaim Isla’s hand to help her out immediately afterward.

She barely had her feet under her when Maidstone stepped closer. “The cloak is beneath the shrub to the left of the front steps,” he said. “I took advantage of the servants’ preoccupation with unloading the carriage to place it out of sight.”

Isla strained to see the small bush in the darkness. “Thank you, my lord. I shall find it.”

He nodded and then offered Martha his arm. “I believe the time has come, my dear.”

They started toward the door.

Simon turned to Isla. “Are you ready?”

“Not remotely,” she said, and then she set her hand upon his arm. “But seeing as I likely never will be, we’d best go in anyway.”

Attempting to smother his own apprehensions, Simon summoned an encouraging smile. “As you wish.”

The Monteagles’ house was much like the other manors that had been built in Hoxton over the last few decades. Tarred wooden frames and limewash-painted wattle and daub gave the house a clean, black-and-white appearance. Inside, the wood-paneled entrance hall led directly into the great hall, where, if the sound of chatter and laughter was any indication, many people were already gathered.

“It sounds like a big group,” Isla said.

“We may be surprised. Voices tend to echo through the rafters in larger rooms.” He led her through the open doors. A fire burned brightly in the enormous fireplace. Two long wooden tables had been set end to end and were lined with cushioned stools. Goblets, knives, and trenchers marked the place settings. Simon made a rapid, silent count of the seats. “The table is set for sixteen.”

“And I know only three people,” Isla said. “That might make it easier if I’m called upon to slip out.”

A titter of forced female laughter sounded at Simon’s left. Without turning his head, he knew its source. The sound had inspired dread and frustration in the past, but this evening, those emotions did not come. With an unexpected feeling of release, he offered Isla an apologetic look. “You may be acquainted with more than three. I believe Lady Whitely is here, and if she is here, it stands to reason that her husband and perhaps even her daughter and son-in-law are also in attendance.”

Isla’s eyes met his, and by the light of the many candles in the room, he saw the concern shining there. “I am very sorry.”

“There is no need. My meeting with Lydia at Copfield Hall taught me that whatever feelings I had for her were superficial at best, and I can now face her—and her family—with polite indifference. Indeed, if I am being completely honest, I must own to some relief.” He lowered his voice. “Lady Whitely would have been an extremely trying mother-in-law.”

Isla’s soft laughter warmed his heart. It had been too long since he’d heard it.

“It seems that mother-in-law problems transcend the centuries,” she said.

“Would your mother be similarly challenging?”

She pondered the question for a moment. “Given that my brother-in-law and sister-in-law seem to enjoy visiting my parents, perhaps not.”