Page 22 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“No flirting,” he said, capitulating to her terms merely out of curiosity. Who was this woman with her vibrant laugh, crooked smile, and clever eyes? Whatever had her family done to put her on the outskirts of Society, necessitating she give so much time to the whims of someone such as Lady Olivia? “I suppose if Esther likes you, that ought to be testament enough to your character.”

The woman wore her lively expression comfortably. “You both have such odd names. I cannot think I have heard Esther as a given name very often. Everyone seems to prefer having a dozen Marys in the family to anything more original.”

“Our mother felt the same.” Isaac offered the explanation with a shrug. “She used to say that people preferred New Testament names to Old, which she liked better. More drama in the Old.”

“A sensible woman.” Miss Wedgewood tucked her hands behind her back, adopting a lofty tone. “My mother named me after her, at least in part. She is Mildred, I am Millicent.”

“Those are not the same name,” he noted dryly.

“No. But both of us had papas to call us Millie.” A softer look stole over her, which he would not have seen had he not been studying her from the corner of his eye. The light in her eye dimmed, her smile changing from a broad grin to a gentle pressing of the lips.

A bittersweet expression. In fact, when her eyes settled upon the ground, she fully appeared as lonely as she had proclaimed herself. Whatever feelings she had in regard to her situation, she did not strike him as a bad sort. There was a cleverness in her eyes, but nothing cruel.

“Millie,” he repeated, quite without thinking.

Her eyes darted up to his. “Now Sir Isaac, if I am not permitted to flirt, neither are you.”

His chin jerked upward. “Me? Flirt?”

“Speaking a woman’s Christian name without leave is most certainly flirtatious.” She grinned at him, then pointed at a turn in the lane. “I must go this way to return to the marquess’s home. Good day to you, Sir Isaac.”

He merely gaped after her retreating form, but after she had gone a dozen steps he could not help but chuckle. “Good day to you, Miss Wedgewood,” he called. She turned enough to look over her shoulder at him, a saucy smile upon her face. She raised her hand in a brief wave, then continued on with a light step.

Flirt. As if he would ever contemplate such a thing.

A smile tugged at his lips all the rest of his walk home.

Chapter 8

“I have an invitation to spend the afternoon and evening with Lady Inglewood.” Though Millie hadn’t expected Lady Olivia’s praise for obtaining the countess’s interest, the marquess’s daughter’s sneer was something of a surprise. Especially when the lady had appeared almost statuesque while playing the harp.

“You are off to have tea parties with Esther Riley? How does that accomplish anything at all?” Lady Olivia kept plucking at the strings of the instrument as she spoke. “Amusing yourself in that woman’s house is not precisely what I expected when we settled upon this arrangement.”

Millie came further into the music room and sat upon a chaise near the harpist’s chair. She folded her hands primly in her lap, resolved to explain things. “You tasked me with humiliating Sir Isaac. I cannot complete the task without coming to know the two of them better. The first task set for me was accomplished easily by spying, where no one expected to find a spy. But this is different. I must gain their trust if I am ever to learn their secrets.”

It was a thing her mother had taught her, years before, and taught Emmeline, too. Knowing the secrets of others gave a woman power, and in a world ruled by men, every scrap of advantage must be taken. At least, that is what Mrs. Wedgewood had said.

Lady Olivia’s hands stilled the vibrating strings as she appeared to contemplate that idea. “What makes you think you can win their trust? Sir Isaac has been famously stand-offish since his return from war and Esther Riley is nearly as closed off as her brother.”

Although reluctant to admit that most of what she had already learned had come by sheer luck, Millie had to make some sort of answer. “I have similar interests to the countess, as you pointed out before. That much has captured her curiosity. Sir Isaac is a different matter. I am attempting to find the crack in his wall as of yet.”

That did not appear to impress Lady Olivia at all. She plucked at her harp again, gentle notes slipping from the strings into the rest of the room. “I suppose I do not care how long it takes you, so long as I am assured satisfaction. Sir Isaac’s humiliation will be difficult, there is no doubt. But his sister—I will be most pleased when Lady Inglewood is an unknowing instrument to bringing her brother low.”

Millie cleared her throat, a trifle nervously. “Lady Olivia, perhaps if you told me why you wish the baronet harm—”

“That is not your business,” the woman snapped, her eyes hardening as her shout echoed through the room.

After a long moment of silence, Millie at last spoke, her voice soft in the quiet. “Of course, Lady Olivia. As you say.”

Lady Olivia rested her cheek upon the curve of her instrument. “We will not expect you for dinner.”

The clear dismissal left Millie no choice but to stand and curtsy. She took her leave of Lady Olivia and walked out the door, feeling as though she fled a tiger’s lair. As she stepped from the room, her eye caught sight of a man leaning against the wall beside the open doorway. Millie started, then realized Lord Neil stood there, appearing as indolent as she had ever seen him.

Yet his eyes glittered in the shadows of the hallway. “What are you and my sister planning?” he asked abruptly, the slyness absent from his tone making him sound entirely too serious, too knowing.

Millie shut the door to the music room behind her before meeting his eyes again. “Nothing of importance, my lord.”

He stayed leaning there, one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded on his chest. “It did not sound like nothing. I suspected your business with Livvy might have something to do with Fox. But not with the countess.”