Page 33 of Engaging Sir Isaac

“I cannot think that a wise idea, Isaac. We barely know one another. Her family knows ours not at all. It would not be appropriate. I will write to her mother, of course, and extend the invitation. But I can do nothing without the consent of her guardians. She is only one and twenty.”

“What has that to do with anything?” He scoffed. As though age had any bearing—

“She cannot legally make decisions for herself. If we transferred her to our home, and her family made objection, it would not go well for Miss Wedgewood or any of us.” She sighed deeply and leaned toward him. “Perhaps it would be best for her to return home. I might extend her an invitation to visit us next Season, at our house in Town.”

Isaac stared at his sister and attempted to make sense of all she said. “You will not help her.”

Her shoulders slumped and the look in her eyes came very near to pity. “I cannot. We must think these things through, Isaac. If I were to put on my bonnet and descend upon the Alderton manor, demanding that their guest be turned over to my care, that would not do the already strained relations between our families any service. The marquess and Silas are at odds over Silas’s refusal to step foot upon their property and his banishment of Lord Neil from ours. The only reason the two have not come to more public arguments over things is because they are part of the same party.”

Though she might have a point, Isaac refused to concede the matter. “What has Silas’s grudge to do with Miss Wedgewood’s present need?”

“You cannot save everyone, Isaac,” Esther said, her tone growing softer. “And nothing truly dire has happened. Miss Wedgewood only suspects she will be sent away. We do not yet know if that is the case. The absolute worst thing that can happen is that she will be put into a mail coach with her maid and sent home.”

“But the gossip will not help her situation.” Surely, if Esther understood anything, she would understand that the wrong sort of gossip would hurt Miss Wedgewood further.

But she was already shaking her head. “Miss Wedgewood made it clear to me that her family occupies a low rung of Society. So long as she is not compromised, being sent away as a guest will not harm them.”

Isaac jolted to his feet and paced away, his agitation too much to bear sitting still.

“Why does Miss Wedgewood’s fate matter to you, Isaac?” The directness of the question halted him in his steps. He looked over his shoulder, then slowly turned about. “You hardly know her, and you did not at all like her only a few days ago.”

True enough. But that hardly seemed the point. “What is right is right, no matter whether or not I like a person.” Isaac did not suffer injustices done upon anyone within his sight. He would as resolutely stand for a vagabond as a prince, should he have the ability to prevent a wrong. “Miss Wedgewood has explained why she is present, what is at stake for her and her family. We know the marquess and his family are not entirely honorable.”

“Isaac.” His sister stood with grace and elegance, as befitting her station. “I’ll say it again. You cannot save everyone.”

Her words struck him like a blow to the chest. His arm fell uselessly to his side. “Just as I did not save you.”

Color flooded his sister’s cheeks. Esther lowered her eyes to the carpet between them. “That is not the issue here, Isaac. Though I can see this discussion has upset you. I am sorry for that, and sorry that I cannot help Miss Wedgewood at this time. I do like her. If I think of another way to be of aid, without making matters more difficult, I will do what I can.”

He recognized his sister’s dismissal, even though she would never voice it as such. Esther had finished the conversation. As he could not pretend satisfaction with its ending, he had no choice but to leave. Isaac bowed. “Good afternoon, Essie. I will see you tomorrow.”

He left the instant he saw her dip her head in acknowledgement. There was nothing more to do. As a bachelor, and no more than an acquaintance to the young woman in trouble, Isaac could offer no direct assistance. Esther’s refusal to help was less understandable.

Once Isaac had his hat and glove, he made his way back out the door to his waiting horse. Mounting one-handed had become a matter of some pride to Isaac. Yes, a block made things easier, but he hadn’t used a block to mount since childhood.

Strangely enough, it had been Hope’s husband who had helped Isaac gain more independence in his riding.

“Vaqueros ride one-handed; they mount in all circumstances and in all weathers. I will show you.”

Had the man done no more than love Hope, the Silver Birch Society would have embraced him well enough. But when he gave Isaac back the ability to mount and ride unassisted, the entire group had claimed him as one of their own.

He hooked the toe of his left foot in the stirrup which had been adjusted to specifications given by Alejandro. Then he leaned his left shoulder into the horse, using what remained of that arm to steady himself. With two quick hops of his right foot, his right arm came up and took the saddle by its lip. With the momentum of his jump, leverage against the saddle with his toe in the stirrup, Isaac propelled himself up onto his mount’s back.

“You are a good fellow, Prophet.” He picked up the reins in one hand. They had tried several of Isaac’s horses, from those trained as hunters to the carriage horses, until Prophet proved he had the patience and intelligence to work with Isaac’s unique mounting style. Not to mention the horse’s ability to follow verbal commands and whistles.

The horse nickered softly and flicked his tail. He was not so tall a horse as Isaac had once favored, but the animal was worth his weight in gold, so far as his rider was concerned.

Isaac turned them toward home, still mulling over his disappointment in regard to Miss Wedgewood’s situation.

Why could he not shake the feeling that it was wrong to leave her to fend for herself? Esther thought his desire to help was uncalled for, unnecessary. But she had a point. Knowing he hadn’t helped his own sister when she needed him most had left his pride wounded. Not that helping Miss Wedgewood would heal that old hurt, but it might do something to lessen the sting.

Especially given all that she had told him. Her elder sister’s betrayal hurt her, leaving her to feel abandoned. As Esther had felt when Isaac left her alone.

He arrived home at Woodsbridge, affectionately named Fox Hall by his friends. He dismounted at the stables. After giving instructions to the groom, Isaac took himself off to the house. The wide, empty rooms made him shudder. They were too large, too empty, for anyone to be truly comfortable inside them.

Isaac entered his study and sat without thought on posture or concern for the furniture, rather heavily. The whole evening stretched before him still. Alone, with his thoughts, there was nothing with which he could occupy himself. Not with any success.

His hand twitched. He curled it into a fist. Even after more than a year without his left arm, his natural reactions to certain things had continued. Like the desire to scratch an itch on his left hand that no longer existed. Or the thought that he might reach for something with both hands only to have one appear ready to obey him.