Page 43 of Engaging Sir Isaac

To Millie’s surprise, Sir Isaac turned quite pale, and his gloved hand curled into a fist upon his knee. “I do not hold any influence in political arenas, Miss Wedgewood. He pointedly turned his face to Miss Ashford. “But perhaps Miss Ashford might suggest places to visit while I am in Town.”

The young woman happily began naming her favorite parks and theaters. Millie stared a moment at Isaac, wondering at the abrupt end of the topic he had brought up in the first place. She glanced at Lord Neil, who still stared out the window but had lifted his eyebrows slightly. Then she dropped her gaze to her lap.

For the remainder of the carriage ride, she confined herself to more appropriate subjects of conversation. Perhaps straying into the world of politics had been her mistake. Not all men enjoyed conversations of that depth with women. Her father had spoken to her of politics often, given that they had few people to debate in their semi-exile from the fashionable world. She supposed her father was rather unique, including her in such topics.

The remainder of the ride passed more pleasantly, once Millie relaxed into less weighty discussion. Lord Neil even joined in a time or two, when the topic strayed to the other activities of the house party.

Lord Neil and Sir Isaac never spoke directly to each other, she noticed, though both were perfectly polite and civil. How interesting.

When the carriage arrived in Orford, passing through the village, Millie turned all her attention inward. Mr. Weston was her quarry. She had to hunt him down. Spend every possible moment at his side, on his arm if possible, and let the outrageous flirt flatter her until she could gain his trust enough that he would drop his guard. She needed a scent to follow if there were to be any secrets uncovered.

Millie suffered a moment of regret. Spending time with Sir Isaac would be much more diverting. More pleasant. She sighed and checked her bonnet when the carriage rolled to a stop.

The groom opened the carriage door. Isaac stepped out first, then held his hand out to Millie. She took it with a smile and descended from the carriage, then immediately turned her attention to the crowd of people entering the rubble-strewn area around the castle. A castle that appeared more like a single tower of a larger fortress, if she were truthful. It was a strange, small piece of architecture, but it made for an interesting study.

Millie popped open her parasol and hurried her steps to catch the group, heedless of leaving the others from her carriage behind. They would not miss her. Not even Isaac. He would look after himself well enough, and she had an assignment to fulfill.

The more time she spent concentrating on Mr. Weston, the less she had to worry about fulfilling the part of her bargain that included harming Sir Isaac.

Chapter 15

Before Isaac said a word, before he asked Millie if he might escort her as they explored the ruins, she rushed off. The woman did not even glance over her shoulder to see if he—or Lord Neil and Miss Ashford—followed. It was as though she could not wait to leave him behind.

Had he done something to upset her? Their time in the carriage had been amicable. Enjoyable, to him, even. Despite sharing a box with Lord Neil. Apparently, Millie hadn’t felt the same given her haste to leave him behind.

Had he miscalculated?

Lord Neil offered his arm to Miss Ashford, leaving Isaac to follow behind them, making him feel more the fool. No one to take his arm, no one to even walk alongside, put him at the rear of the entire party. Not that he particularly wished for the company of others, but he had rather hoped—

It did not matter what he hoped. Though he had thought Millie regarded him at least as a friend, his company did not seem to suit her.

Isaac finally started moving in the same direction as the others, to the castle he had seen a dozen times in his life. The structure no longer impressed him, even though he remembered well the story of the Orford Wild Man. It was a story he had meant to tell Millie as they walked about the ruins, to see what she made of it, to amuse her.

Foolish of him, really. She had no wish to keep him company. He had misread all her friendliness of the bonfire night, all her jests from the dinner at his sister’s home.

He walked through the crumbling stones that marked where the castle’s outer wall had once stood, following a well-trod path. He turned his eyes up to the tower, to the crumbling stone. What a waste. The Marquess of Hertford held ownership of the castle but had done little to maintain it, despite the castle’s usefulness as a location to signal ships at sea. From a purely military standpoint, the quiet port of Orford would provide a place for enemy ships to invade, and friendly ships to resupply in an emergency.

Isaac shook his head at the stones, as though it was their fault his mind still turned to military strategies. If he did not leave behind that way of thinking, he would never rid himself of his nightmares. Burying the memories and training of war deep within had proven nearly impossible, but it was the only hope he had.

Members of the party scattered throughout the ruins. Several ladies carried sketchbooks. Some walked about arm-in-arm. The servants had yet to arrive with the picnic. Isaac’s eyes wandered until they landed upon the waving green feathers of Millie’s bonnet. She was on the arm of a man he did not recognize.

I am ten times a fool. Isaac swallowed back his disappointment and turned his attention to the hill. He would go to the top, enjoy the air and the view, and leave directly after the picnic. If Lord Neil insisted on using Isaac’s carriage rather than put additional people into the other vehicles, Isaac would ride back with the servants.

He had no intention of spending an entire day in company with people who had no interest in him and his lack of connections. Millie had no need of him. She had made enough friends among the members of the house party to amuse herself.

Perhaps Esther was right. Isaac did not need to save everyone. And not everyone needed saving.

The servants arrived and took their baskets, blankets, and all the pieces of a table made especially for such an event, into the ruins near the castle. What must the villagers of Orford think of the nobility descending upon the ruins only to set up a dining room? Isaac stood up and brushed the grass from his trousers before starting down the hill at an easy pace.

Footmen from the marquess’s household put together the cleverly constructed table, sliding slots together in the wood until four legs held up long boards. Two maids came next, tablecloth in hand, and in a matter of minutes had spread out a feast of cold meats, pastries, fruits, and every food that might be easily transported. Wine bottles appeared, too, along with shining goblets.

More than a year before, Isaac had taken nearly all his meals out-of-doors, near a fire. Rations of dried bread, soups too thin with unidentifiable vegetables floating about, were often what the men ate. As an officer, Isaac’s meals were slightly better. He never went hungry, but he had certainly grown used to humble meals.

“Sir Isaac?” a quiet voice asked near his elbow. Isaac looked down into the worried expression of a woman wearing an apron and cap that marked her position as a maid. Millie’s maid.

“Yes.” He nodded slightly, encouraging her to speak. Perhaps she searched for her mistress. Isaac had seen Millie and her chosen escort watching another lady sketch the castle.

“Forgive me, sir, but I have something I must tell you. In confidence.” She glanced to where the other servants continued their work, far enough from where Isaac stood. “I am concerned for my mistress. There are members of this party, people who aren’t—aren’t good people.” Her face went pale when Isaac frowned at her. “I mean no disrespect to my betters, sir. But I worry someone might do her harm. Miss Wedgewood—she says you’re a good man.”