Windowpanes were replaced, there were no roof tiles haphazardly scattered on the drive, the fountain had been cleaned and it bubbled with running water once more. On either side, the gardens had been pruned and planted into order and there were new beds planted round the fountain itself.
She thought there might even be fresh paint on the door.
“Look at what he has wrought, Betsy,” Isabel whispered.
Betsy peered out the window. “It is a fine house. Though I don’t have any prior notion of it to compare to, so I cannot see the changes as you can.”
“Everything has changed. Absolutely everything.”
To Isabel’s amazement, a footman came striding out in a smart blue uniform, replete with glinting brass buttons. Another footman ran off to the stables to find a groom for the horses and carriage.
Rumson had descended from his perch and opened the carriage door. He helped Isabel to the drive, followed by Betsy.
Of course, the footman had not the first idea of who she was and must wonder at this sudden arrival in a carriage emblazoned with a duke’s coat of arms.
Another man, dressed in a very neatly tailored suit, came jogging down the steps.
“You will not know me,” Isabel said, “I am Lady Isabel Beaufort, daughter to Lord Somerdon.”
The footman bowed and said, “My lady, welcome home to Somerdon House.”
The man in the suit seemed rather staggered by her introduction. “Lady Isabel? Here? You are not in London?”
“I was in London,” Isabel said. “Now I have come here. I wish to see Mr. Vance.”
She said it as confidently as she could manage, though she did not feel confident. Her legs felt as if their bones had been left in the carriage. She was unsteady on her feet. Harry Vance was in there somewhere. Had he heard the carriage and wondered who it was? Would he be angry, or happy, or something in between?
Isabel was dimly aware that she ought to be thinking of her father and wishing to see him before anybody else. That was not the case, however.
She wished to see Harry Vance.
“Lady Isabel,” the man said, “I am Smith, Mr. Vance’s valet. Just hours ago, I received a note from Lady Bertridge—Mr. Vance has gone to London.”
That was impossible. He was meant to be right here.
“He is not here? He has gone to Town?”
“Yes, it seemed there was some urgency to the situation, though Lady Bertridge did not say specifically what it was.”
Isabel was silent for some moments. She had built herself up to see him and tell him all and now he was not here. He’d been called to Town on some matter. What should she do?
Smith cleared his throat. “Ah, while Lady Bertridge did not sayspecifically, she did mention the urgency as being Lord Lymington’s parents staying with the duchess.”
Isabel took in a breath, and she might have not been breathing for a time, so welcome was the air into her lungs.Shewas the matter he’d raced off to Town about.
Isabel turned to Betsy. “It is Lord Lymington, he is the urgent situation. Or was, anyway. We have to go back! Let us set off this instant!”
“Now, my lady,” Betsy said sternly, “I really will have to put my foot down on that idea. It would be far too dangerous.”
“And I put the other foot down,” Rumson said. “The only people out on the turnpike roads this late are those with nefarious intentions. Driving the duchess’ carriage into such circumstances would be like swinging bait at every highwayman in the county. I won’t do it.”
Isabel might have been able to sway Betsy, had not her maid been so well backed by the coachman. He stood with arms folded, appearing entirely immovable.
“Very well,” she said, defeated. “We will go first thing in the morning. At first light, not a moment past it. You will see that we are ready to go first thing?”
The coachman nodded, though he did not seem enthused to be a part of this foxhunt for Mr. Vance.
That mattered little, though. Harry Vance had rushed to Town to stop her from wedding Lord Lymington.
