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It was her first adventure out as Mr. Allen, and she had to admit it had been quite a success. At least, no one had called her out for impersonating a man. That alone was worthy of celebrating. But she’d also gained quite a bit of useful information.
In just a few short hours, she’d learned that several of the men of her acquaintance were not worthy of her time and attention, and that at least one man in Carlaby thought the very same of her.
* * *
Isaac placed another forkful of potatoes in his mouth. Another bite he hardly tasted. His mind was too filled with the conversations of that afternoon. Particularly of meeting Mr. Allen. He hadn’t meant to come down so hard on the young man. He should have held his tongue.
After all, Mr. Allen looked more like a boy than a man. He’d entered Greenbulls with a look on his face, one that was more uncertainty and apprehension than anything. It was the look of a boy, barely a young man, who was associating with grown men for the first time and likely realizing he was not so very grown himself.
Isaac shook his head and placed the last bite of potato in his mouth.
Considering the young man’s age, he shouldn’t have been so hard on him about his uncle. Mr. Allen was only related to Mr. Grant through marriage, after all. It seemed Mr. Allen had hardly known his uncle; it was unfair for Isaac to lay blame on him for what happened a decade earlier.
Robins stuck his elbow in Isaac’s side. And he didn’t do it gently.
Isaac hid his grunt and then turned and scowled at his friend.
Far from looking apologetic, Robins only threw his chin the direction of Parsons, sitting across from them at the dinner table.
Isaac nodded his understanding.
“Care to go riding tomorrow?” Isaac asked the table as a whole. Parsons had left Cresthearth Manor that morning with a bounce in his step and a smile as bright as the sun. He’d returned a little before Isaac and Robins had, looking decidedly less cheerful. Parsons hadn’t brought up his conversation with Mr. Turner that morning, and neither Isaac nor Robins had dared to do it for him.
“Thank you for my share of the invite,” Aunt Margarette said. “But it will undoubtedly be too cold for me. I haven’t ridden atop a horse for years either way.”
“Will you feel neglected if we ride out, Aunt?” Isaac asked with a smile. The more he’d gotten to know his great aunt these past few days, the more he’d come to like her. She spoke her mind but was always kind about it.
“Not in the least, dear boy,” she said. “Only do me a favor and keep your eyes out for some fine evergreen boughs so I might know where to direct the footmen to find them on Christmas Eve.”
“We would be happy to,” Isaac said. “Care to join us, Parsons?”
“Excuse me?” Parsons said, finally looking up from his plate.
“Do you want to go riding with Robins and myself tomorrow?”
He tipped his head back and forth. “Very well.”
Isaac shared a look with Robins. Clearly, things had not gone well this morning for their friend.
“Lord Parsons,” Aunt Margarette said, her voice gentle. “We all know the topic of conversation between yourself and Mr. Turner this morning, and none of us are blind to how you are acting now.”
Parsons shifted about in his seat. “I apologize for being such poor company.”
“No one is complaining, Parsons,” Isaac said, glancing at Aunt Margarette. She nodded her agreement.
“Did he send you packing?” Robins asked.
Isaac shot his friend a scowl; surely Robins could have asked with more tact than that.
Parsons’s face wrinkled as his expression morphed through a variety of emotions. “Not exactly.”
“Then he gave his permission,” Isaac said.
“Not exactly that either.”
Aunt Margarette reached a hand out, as though to pat him on the arm. “I think you’d best start from the beginning.”
Parsons let out a loud sigh, dropping his fork loudly onto his plate. “I guess I might as well.” He placed both hands on the table, staring down at first one group of fingers and then the other. “When I first walked in, he greeted me warmly. I thought for certain all would go my way. I explained to him my intentions to offer for Miss Turner.”
