“Do not be ridiculous, of course you will like a tailor. Now, can you explain what it is you do not like about this new way of going on?”
“Browning.Stern.”
“Yes, your new steward is rather stern, which is all to the good.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “Further, I think you will find me a genial son-in-law.”
“No?”
“Yes,” Harry said firmly.
The earl shrugged. Then he sighed. Then he muttered, “Yes?”
“Excellent,” Harry said. “I’ll arrange the banns.”
*
Over the weeksthat the banns were read in both Hertfordshire and Cornwall, Isabel and Harry occupied their time in several ways. They had thoroughly agreed that they would put off a wedding trip—the earl’s estate was on its way to success, and they could not allow it to falter now.
Isabel often watched Harry and Lord Bertridge from a window, walking together and managing some aspect of the estate. The cheesemaking operation was to mirror Bertridge’s own and the dairy was nearly completed.
Isabel attended to matters inside the house, including continuing with the earl’s lessons on speaking in full sentences. It became apparent to her that he could do so when pressed, but that he generally did not feel like it. She began to get the idea that it amused him to speak in riddles and leave it to his listeners to divine his meanings. That, along with his general air of languor, did not bode well for any vast improvements.
It was not all work between the couple though. Many an afternoon, neither one of them could be found. They would tiptoe off with a picnic basket and explore her father’s wood. There, they found a charming and meandering stream and would spend hours talking beside it about their plans. Or, if not talking, they were doingsomething.
Were they to arrive back at the house looking rather more disheveled than could be expected from talking, nobody commented on it.
Isabel rather wondered at her old idea that she could have ever tolerated Lord Lymington touching her in such a personal manner.Thatwas only for Harry Vance to do. She’d had the notion that she would do what was necessary to get children and it would be simply something to be got through.
Now, though, it was not at all to be got through. It was something to be gotto.
Fortunately, Harry seemed to have more self-control than she did, else they might have arrived to the church wearing exceedingly guilty countenances.
They were married in the small local church with only a select few from the neighborhood attending, though Lady Bertridge did miss the proceeding as she was at home with her new infant daughter. Harry’s father traveled from Cornwall and seemed rather delighted with his son’s choice. The baron had helpfully left Harry’s coarse cousin behind, and he got on surprisingly well with the earl. They were both men of few words with a fondness for port, and that seemed satisfactory to them both.
The only guest who had not been anticipated was the duchess.
Isabel had written the lady several letters, all expounding on how the dear duchess had made happiness possible for her. Though it had not turned out how the duchess had predicted, and perhaps had wished, it had turned out right all the same. The duchess, if Isabel were to be believed, was the kindest, wisest, most gracious, and dare she say it,noblelady in England.
None of those letters had been answered and so Isabel could not have known their effect.
The duchess, having so little experience in resisting compliments, finally capitulated. Being named noble had tipped the scales in Isabel’s favor. Once she did relent, she blew into Somerdon House with all the authority of the mistress of the house. She graciously accepted Harry’s very heartfelt and abject apologies, which Isabel thought were masterfully done, and became rather sanguine about the whole thing.
Now, some months later, Isabel lounged in bed with her husband at the shocking time of eleven o’clock in the morning. They’d had breakfast sent up after being out very late at a neighbor’s theatrical evening.
“I am sure we have caused no end of talk with our rather brazen habits,” she said.
Harry pulled her close and said, “They’ve got to talk about something in the servants’ hall.”
There was a quick knock on the door.
Before Isabel could alert whoever it was that they werestillabed, the door swung open and a maid carrying a silver tray walked in.
She saw them and gave out a squeak, before dropping the tray and running from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Now that will cause even more talk,” Isabel said. “A housemaid has seen us en déshabillé and she will not soon forget it.”
