Page 48 of Engaging Sir Isaac

Essie would remind him it was not his responsibility to save everyone.

How could he turn his back on Millie? She had confessed everything to him. Had given him her trust. She needed an ally.

Isaac could not save everyone. But he could help Millie. “What can I do to assist you?”

“You cannot—”

“I can. And I will.” He gently set her away from him, met her red-rimmed eyes with his gaze. “Tell me everything. Every word of the agreement you made. We will fulfill it, and the moment you are free, you will let my family introduce you back into Society. Into the part of it where you belong. Not Lady Olivia’s circle of corruption.”

In as few words as possible, Millie recounted her mother bringing her to Lady Olivia’s notice, then went into greater detail as she told him the whole of the ordeal and the horrid bargain she’d felt forced to make.

Millie had put herself in a terrible position. But it was not an impossible one. “At least I know why I am Lady Olivia’s target,” he admitted, the weight of all she told him making his shoulders sag. He leaned back against the seat and removed his hat.

“You do?” she asked, somewhat shyly. He had never seen her shy since their meeting. It was rather endearingly sweet.

“Normally, I would never divulge such a thing to anyone.” He shot a look of warning at the maid, who nodded mutely, her promise of silence in the gesture. “But Lady Olivia has dragged you into our past through her actions and threats. Shortly after I returned from war, she paid me a visit. She came to my home, alone. During a storm. My servants showed her inside my house, offered her shelter, and I came into the room where they put her to play the part of a good host.” He released a frustrated sigh and rubbed at his eyes, as though he could erase the memory of that horrible evening. “When I arrived at the room, she was not appropriately attired.”

Millie’s soft gasp made his ears turn red. A gentleman would take that whole scene to the grave. But she needed to know where Lady Olivia’s anger had come from, why the daughter of a marquess sought to avenge herself upon a lowly baronet.

“I was shocked, and she…made a request.” That was the most polite term he could use for what the woman had said to him. “I left the room without a word. I locked myself in my study after telling the butler to have her removed. I might have handled the situation poorly. The servants saw things, heard her say things. I have no doubt she regards herself as humiliated and ill-used.”

What must Millie think of the whole situation?

“I understand,” she said. Not softly, but firmly. He saw a flash of anger in her eyes. “I understand entirely too well.” She looked to her maid. “Sarah does, too.”

“Yes, miss. Sir.” The maid appeared ill.

Isaac wanted to leave the entire subject behind them. Never discussing it again. “So we understand now the motivations, and what you must do. We have to see it through, Millie. Free you from these troubles. If you will let me speak to Silas—”

She broke in at once. “No. Isaac, you can tell no one. What would he think of me? What would your sister think?” She shuddered. “You promised we spoke in confidence. Please. You cannot say a word of this to anyone else. This is my problem, my mess to clean up, not yours. Not the earl’s.”

“They could help, I am certain of it.” Though he spoke with conviction, she kept shaking her head.

“No. Please, say nothing.”

Isaac put his hat upon his head again. “Very well. I will say nothing unless you bid me to do so. But you cannot stop me from helping, Miss Millicent Wedgewood.”

Her smile appeared, tentative at first. “I would not dream of it. You are my rescuer, as Sarah is, and I am grateful for that. Also, Isaac—” A little color came back into her cheeks. “Please, keep calling me Millie.”

* * *

That evening, still feigning illness in her room, Millie sat in the window. Knees tucked beneath her chin, forehead against the cool glass, she stared out over the stables to the clouds creeping across the sky. Sarah took the gown for the next day out of the wardrobe and held the material out by the shoulders. “This one, miss?”

Barely adjusting the tilt of her head, Millie eyed the blue dress with interest. “If you think it best, Sarah.”

“It does look quite lovely with your hair and complexion,” Sarah assured her. “And tomorrow is the tour of the gardens, sewing, and then the evening card party.”

“Yes. A long, wretched day. At least Lady Olivia cannot expect much from me, with the men out fishing on the marquess’s yacht.” Millie put her feet upon the ground and stretched her arms above her head. “Do you think I can avoid dinner this evening? It is only an hour away.”

Sarah sighed and went about gathering Millie’s underthings for the next day. “I wish you would, miss. Wish you’d avoid everything and go home. But it’s like you said to Sir Isaac. We’re caught in a trap.”

“I wish Sir Isaac did not have to know.” Though it was somewhat of a relief to her. Millie started to pace the room, her slippers hardly making a sound on the carpet. “It complicates matters.”

“Sir Isaac?” Sarah asked, turning away from Millie and busying herself with the dressing table. “I believe he gave you leave to use his Christian name after you said, ‘call me Millie.’” Sarah peered over her shoulder at Millie, grinning boldly.

Millie felt heat at the back of her neck and in her cheeks. “He is a comrade-in-arms now, Sarah. That is all I wanted him to understand.”

“Oh, is he?” Sarah adjusted the hairbrush. “Is that why you two looked all snug and safe in the carriage together?”