Page 12 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“I will fetch a box for you to carry home your supplies.” The countess disappeared before Millie could protest, leaving her to stand before the little cupboard.

She took a deep breath and began sorting through the materials. Though her mother had allowed Millie to practice penwork, it had been with reluctance.

“Such a terrible, dirty pursuit. You will smudge every sleeve and dress with ink,” Mrs. Wedgewood had declared more than once. She frequently commanded her daughter to “get that dreadful mess out of my best room.” Every room had somehow become the best room when Millie settled in with ink and pens.

Yet she kept working at the art, whenever she had opportunity. It fascinated her, to fully transform a box, a fan, even a picture frame, into a work of art with nothing more than simple tools.

The countess had everything Millie could want. Sharp quill pens, thin brushes, and black Indian ink. The ink was the most important part, of course. If it was the wrong mixture, it would smear and smudge rather than stain. The brush would be useful for broader swaths of black. Using Lady Olivia’s watercolor brushes for such a task would ruin them, but these new brushes were quite perfect.

But did the countess have—yes, there it was. A jar of isinglass, to seal the wood before she began her work.

Millie placed her selection upon a table near the small cupboard, chewing her bottom lip as she thought over how much ink her design would require. Of course, she needed a box first.

The door opened and Millie turned to see the countess float inside, holding a baby instead of a box. But a maid came in behind her, wooden box in hand. A box the perfect size for a gentleman’s desk. “Set the box just over there, Mary,” the countess instructed. “Thank you.”

The maid put the box down, curtsied, and left.

Millie’s attention was arrested by the child in the countess’s arms. “I see you brought someone for me to meet,” she said, a little warmth creeping into her heart.

The only thing she ever wondered about her sister, the only thing she ever permitted herself to wonder, was if Emmeline had given birth to any children yet. If only her sister would write to Millie, she might know at once, but Emmeline had remained silent.

But to have a niece, or a nephew—

Millie closed her mind to that way of thinking and concentrated on the present moment.

“This is my son, the little Baron Marham, Isaac Riley.”

At that, Millie’s eyebrows rose, and she came forward to better see the baby waving his arms about. “Named after his uncle?”

“Of course. I am quite fortunate that my brother and husband are dear friends. It did not take much to convince either of them of my choice.” The countess lowered herself to the couch and gestured with a hand for Millie to sit on the other end. “I do hope you do not mind him joining our party.”

Millie grinned and held her gloved hand out to the baby, allowing him to take a finger in his grip. “Not at all. I suspect he is a fine gentleman in company.”

“The very best.” The countess seemed to relax, holding her infant so his back was supported by her chest, one arm wrapped loosely about his middle. “I quite adore him. I know I ought to leave him in the nursery more often, but he is a dear boy. He hardly ever makes a fuss. I am afraid that makes him the subject of quite a few paintings.” She tipped her head toward a corner of the room.

Turning that way, Millie could not hold back a laugh. Three canvases leaned against the wall upon the floor, and several drawings had been tacked to the wall, all featuring a tiny baby with large brown eyes. “I do not blame you at all. Who could resist capturing such innocent beauty?”

The countess kept her smile upon her face, but her expression softened into something more curious than polite. “If you do not mind my asking, Miss Wedgewood, how long will you be a guest of the marquess’s family?”

That was not the easiest question to answer. “As long as Lady Olivia wishes, I suppose,” Millie said, keeping as close to the truth as possible. She could not leave until Lady Olivia was satisfied with her work upon both Sir Isaac and Mr. Weston. The second gentleman would not even be in her orbit until the house party in ten days’ time.

“Does your family not expect you home at a certain date?” The countess’s smile had faded, her brows knit in concern.

“My mother is quite pleased with where I am, at present.” Millie kept her eyes upon the baby, gently wiggling her finger in his grip when he tried to put it and his fist into his mouth. “She likes the connection to the Marquess of Alderton. I think she believes it will help my cause next Season.” Again, all the truth, even if she kept the reasoning behind it concealed. Mother knew all about Millie’s bargain with Lady Olivia, and hoped, as Millie did, that upon the completion of her tasks, Millie would have her pick of a husband once more.

Mother insisted Millie find a man with a title. “Nothing less than a future baron,” she had said with a gleam of hope in her eyes. One sister jilting the grandson of a duke was enough to keep anyone that lofty from proposing to the other sister. But a common gentleman? Her mother would never have it.

The countess said nothing for a moment, though Millie felt her scrutiny. Finally, the woman took up the baby in her hands and offered him to Millie. “Would you like to hold him? I can put your supplies into the box.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Millie accepted the small, warm infant and held him close to her heart a moment. He put his fists against her chest and pushed himself slightly away, looking up at her with his large round eyes, his perfect lips parted. He frowned at her, as though puzzling out why a stranger held him instead of his mother.

Whatever was wrong with the relationship between Lady Olivia and the baronet, Millie could not imagine doing harm of any kind to Lady Inglewood. The countess’s warmth and kindness, her immediate generosity, made her the sort of person Millie had always wished to befriend.

Unfortunately, as a social climber, a woman with her mind set upon her path in Society, Millie could ill-afford to disappoint Lady Olivia. But nor did she wish to make an enemy of Lady Inglewood.

The baby cooed at Millie, coaxing a smile from her despite her troubling thoughts. Somehow, she would do what she must to ensure her place in Society, as her mother demanded.

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