Page 63 of Engaging Sir Isaac

Chapter 22

Millie sat in the little art room, carefully putting the final touches on the box she had worked on from her first meeting with the Countess of Inglewood. The fox had turned out well. The creeping vines and flowers framing the handsome creature were graceful. The entire work was one of her best, despite the amount of anxiety in her soul as she worked.

Though there was danger in venturing away from her room, where a lock and privacy kept her away from the other houseguests, she had needed an escape. Isaac hadn’t yet come to keep her company.

After that moment at the hammock, when he allowed her the smallest glimpse of his heart, she honestly did not know if he would ever return.

She had a decision to make, with the information Sarah had discovered about Emmeline. Somehow, all alone, Sarah had invaded Lady Olivia’s room and found the woman’s personal correspondence. Lady Olivia had found Emmeline through an acquaintance married to a London barrister. The woman had an entire web of people willing to do her favors, it would seem.

Millie pulled a sheet of paper from the small pile she had cut, to use for sketching out designs before committing them to the box in ink. Sarah did not even look up from where she sat, mending a hem in one of her own aprons.

Dipping her pen in the ink meant for the box, Millie considered a moment before writing.

My Dearest Sir Isaac,

My thoughts are muddled, swirling like mud and water, refusing to settle. I am at once grateful for all you have done, for your friendship, and regretful that we ever had to meet. Especially under such horrid circumstances.

She hesitated over that line, her eyes aching with her attempt to hold back tears. The words themselves were not eloquent, but her feelings ran deep. The letter would never reach Sir Isaac. So she poured out her heart for several silent minutes.

A knock on the door interrupted her pointless writing. Millie crumpled the paper in her hand and turned toward the door, calling her permission to enter.

Lord Neil. Of course it would be his blond head and wicked grin that invaded her moment of peace. “There you are. Miss Wedgewood, would you care to take a walk with me in the garden?”

“Of course, Lord Neil.” Her words were shaky, but she stood. “Sarah, will you please tidy these things up? And bring the box to my room. It can finish drying upon the window.”

“Yes, miss.” Sarah curtsied to them both.

Millie exited the room and took the arm Lord Neil offered her. He appeared entirely too pleased with himself that morning. It lifted her spirits, somewhat, to see him happy.

“What has you smiling today, my lord?” she asked, allowing him to lead her down the corridor to the stairs.

“One of my favorite dogs has whelped an entire litter of healthy pups.”

She studied him incredulously. “I had no idea you liked dogs so much.”

“I never said as much. But I do. And these are fine animals. It has put me in good spirits.”

“I can tell. Congratulations on your good fortune, my lord.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgement of her words, then rattled on about the sorts of dogs he preferred. His tongue loosened a great deal under his cheer, and the man seemed more genuine than she had ever known him to be. Everyone had something they cared about, something that made them happy, and for Lord Neil that something was apparently the animals in the kennels.

During the turn through the garden, Lord Neil changed the topic to discuss what he thought of all his mother’s guests. Apparently, he liked none of them, and did a fair impression of several of the more pompous members of the party.

“Where is everyone today?” Millie asked after an unsuccessful attempt to smother her laughter. “I have not seen a soul.”

“There was an outing, to the beach.” Lord Neil’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did you not know? I thought it strange you were not among those who left an hour ago, after all you have said about your enjoyment of the sea.”

“I did not know. An oversight, I am certain.” Millie’s stomach momentarily sank at being left out, as she so often was in London. But then, she cheered a little. “It is of no matter. I am afraid I feel toward the guests as you do. I am not inclined to spend more time in their company.”

Lord Neil stopped their progress near a rosebush. He bent down to examine Millie, his eyes shrewd. “Ah. I see. You do not like the shallow, arrogant lot upon whom my sister lavishes all her worries and attentions?”

Millie slowly shook her head, befuddled. “No. I do not. But you do not, either—”

“I was born into this set,” he said, voice low. “You, Miss Wedgewood, have no obligation to them. No desire to be with them. Yet you allow my sister to trick you into her service, merely for an opportunity to impress these people you do not even like.” A hard gleam appeared in his eyes as he spoke. A triumphant smile curved his sly lips.

Millie stilled, then fell back a step. She put a hand to her head and walked away from him to the edge of a stone urn. She sat down upon it.

Lord Neil came closer, steps light, wolfish grin in place. “Had you not thought of it that way?”