Page 60

Simon sat in the carriage, fighting a silent but torturous inner battle. On the one hand, for the sake of self-preservation, he desperately wished he could remove himself from Isla’s captivating presence. On the other hand, he did not want to be anywhere but beside her. Especially while she was recounting her experiences escaping the house, recovering Maidstone’s cloak, and confronting Thomas Ward. Her ingenuity and bravery astounded him, but he was aghast at the number of things that could have gone wrong.

“You were marvelous, Isla.” Martha spoke from the other side of the carriage. “I cannot think of anyone else who could have managed it. And to have Lord Monteagle respond just as we’d hoped is most encouraging.” She paused. “I do wish we were privy to Lord Monteagle’s meeting with Sir Cecil though. Or at the very least, had some way of knowing whether the gentleman will act upon the written warning.”

“We should not need to worry on that score,” Simon said. “If Isla’s history books are to be believed, the letter will motivate Cecil to undertake a search of the Palace of Westminster.”

“Well, not exactly,” Isla said. “Sir Cecil could be swayed either way, but ultimately, he should bring up the matter with the king when he returns to London. It is the king who will order an investigation.”

“Regardless of who issues the command,” Simon said, “it will surely happen.”

“It is unlike you to make so sweeping an assumption, Simon,” Martha said. She was peering at him across the shadowy carriage. “I would have thought you would have been as anxious for inside information as I am.”

“Inside information would be welcome, but I do not think it is necessary. Everything Isla predicted—from Ward’s appearance at dinner to Monteagle’s sticky hands to His Lordship’s response—occurred just as she said it would. That should give us no reason to doubt that her memory of what happens next is equally sound.”

“That may be sufficient for you, Bancroft,” Maidstone said, “but I have been married to your sister long enough to know that the same cannot be said for her. She will be pacing the floors until she knows that the threat to the king and England’s noblemen is fully defused.”

“I most certainly shall,” Martha said with feeling. “And regardless of how things went this evening, I am quite sure Isla will do the same. We are relying upon you gentlemen to provide us with adequate reassurance that Sir Cecil has done what he must.”

“If that is the case, my dear,” Maidstone said, “I believe I shall make a visit to the Earl of Suffolk in the near future.”

“You believe Cecil will confide in Suffolk?” Simon asked.

“I do,” Maidstone said. “Cecil is the Principal Secretary of State and wields more influence with the king than any other gentleman in the country, but Suffolk is Lord Chamberlain. With the king gone, it is all the more likely that Cecil will consult with Suffolk.”

“Then, by all means, go,” Martha said. “If he is available tomorrow morning, so much the better.”

Her husband chuckled softly. “I believe an afternoon visit in two or three days may be more reasonable.”

Martha sighed. “Very well. But the wait will be interminable.”

“Do you plan to visit the Maidstones’ house again soon, Simon?” It was the first time Isla had spoken since she’d corrected his assumption about Cecil. He had become used to her quiet observance of others, but he sensed that her recent silence had more to do with exhaustion than anything else.

“My plans are not fixed,” he hedged. It would be wiser for him to stay away, to become used to being without her. “Are you in need of a day of rest after the events of this evening?”

“Probably. But I don’t suppose my body will comply, and I have a horrible suspicion that I will not know what do to with myself now that I no longer need to spend hours studying seventeenth-century comportment.”

“I hope it was not as awful as it sounds,” he said.

Isla laughed. “Not at all. I shall miss it.”

“So shall I,” Martha said. “And there is no reason why we need curtail it. We could fill hours discussing menu options for the week or the fashions on display at the Monteagles’ event.”

Simon cringed on Isla’s behalf.

“We could,” Isla said with sufficient forced enthusiasm in her voice that Simon knew he would be the worst sort of friend and gentleman if he did not come to her rescue.

“As stimulating as that activity sounds, might I suggest taking a ride past the Palace of Westminster as an alternate pursuit?”

Isla almost covered her mouth fast enough to mask her gasp of delight. But not quite. He grinned. Gone was the young lady who scarcely knew one end of a horse from the other. She may not yet be ready for a spirited mount, but she had developed a love for riding.

“Is that even possible?” she asked.

“If it is something you would enjoy, I am quite sure I can acquire a mount for you for the afternoon.” He caught sight of her smile in the moonlight, and whatever defenses he had remaining to him crumbled. “Be warned, however, if you agree to this outing, you owe me a full explanation of a football game.”

“I did promise you that, didn’t I?” She turned to Martha. “Would you be very disappointed if we saved discussing food and fashion for another time?”

“Not at all. You deserve an outing after all you did this evening, and time spent with Simon is exactly why we contrived your betrothal.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”