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“Excellent,” Robins muttered.
Isaac scowled. What was so excellent about a woman being widowed at such a young age? Lady Nightingale looked as though she could hardly be a year or two over twenty.
“If you insist on an introduction,” Aunt Margarette said, making to rise, “I shall provide one.” Isaac’s aunt never could stand without a bit of huffing, and she usually required more than a little assistance.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Robins said quickly. “She is speaking with a gentleman known to me now. I am sure I can prevail upon him for an introduction.”
Aunt Margarette sat back in her chair with relief. She gave Robins a smile and waved him off. Before Isaac could follow his friend, Aunt Margarette took hold of his arm.
“Sit with me for a minute.”
Isaac’s stomach lurched at the quickly disappearing opportunity to also be introduced to the beautiful woman. Nonetheless, there would be another chance later tonight, no doubt. And he rather liked the idea of sitting with Aunt Margarette for a spell. Her joints were not taking age well, but her mind was sharp as a whip and her tongue equally so.
“There are some things you should know about Lady Nightingale,” Aunt Margarette began once Isaac was seated beside her.
“Oh?” He’d rather thought she’d prefer to discuss a different topic all together, judging by the way she’d clearly not relished speaking of the woman to begin with.
“Her late husband was Lord Hoskins.” She watched him as though he ought to know the name.
He didn’t but probably should. For just over the past decade, ever since his father had died of an infection of the lungs, it was all Isaac could do to see himself through Oxford so that he might hold his head high among society and keep his holdings from turning belly-side-up completely. Remembering names and making connections was not something he’d found the time for as of yet.
Aunt Margarette leaned in toward him. “Her father was Mr. Grant.”
A rush of cold cascaded through Isaac’s whole being. Mr. Grant? Now that was a connection he would never forget, no matter how much he wished he could.
“You mean...the Mr. Grant who...”
“Hewas her father.”
If Isaac hadn’t been sitting beside his very respectable aunt, he probably would have sworn aloud. As it was, he kept his more colorful thoughts to himself. All his anticipation at making Lady Nightingale’s acquaintance burned up. If there was one family he would never care to further his acquaintance with, it was hers.
“What is she doing back in this part of England?” He’d thought after Mr. Grant had swindled him, the family had removed to one of their other holdings, though he supposed, once married, his daughter would have followed her husband about and not her father.
“Lord Hoskins died of a hunting accident just over a year ago. Now that her mourning is over, she has apparently returned to the country.” Aunt Margarette’s voice dropped low. “And by the way she’s acting tonight, I’d say she’s come to find a second husband.”
“More like find another man to dig her claws into.” Lady Nightingale looked stunning, the way she smiled and gracefully moved toward the edges of the room now that the dance was over. But what else did he expect from the daughter of Mr. Grant? He had been the most manipulating man Isaac had ever been cursed to know. No doubt, his daughter’s current charming appearance was merely one piece of a larger game.
“Come now, we don’t know her intentions.” Nonetheless, Aunt Margarette sounded as though she agreed with him, even if her words said otherwise.
Isaac folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. It didn’t matter. She was the daughter of the worst sort of man. He would have to warn Robins away from Lady Nightingale. Hopefully his friend’s newfound infatuation would yield little result, and Isaac could turn him away from the scheming woman as easily as he first fell for her.
“I am sorry I did not tell you sooner that she was in town,” Aunt Margarette said with sincerity. “I only learned she’d returned to the neighborhood the day before you and your friends arrived. There was no time to write and warn you.”
“Do not blame yourself.” Still, part of him couldn’t ignore the fact that, had he known Mr. Grant’s daughter was in Carlaby for the winter, he would have never come himself, not even for so brief a stay. He’d have simply told Parsons to find another friend with a distant family member upon whom he could impose.
Robins took to the dance floor, Lady Nightingale on his arm. As they moved through the steps, nearly half the gentlemen in the room seemed already smitten with her. He wished he could warn them all, tell them what a low trick her father had played on him when he was still too young to have known better.
But then Isaac caught sight of another young woman clearly trying to hold the attention of a man who kept glancing at Lady Nightingale. Isaac’s gaze moved from her to two other women on the other side of the room, both quite lovely, both clearly scowling in Lady Nightingale’s direction.
“Actually,” Isaac said, new realization dawning on him. “I think it might prove good that she’s here this Christmas.”
Aunt Margarette let out a small huff. “Don’t tell me she’s already bewitching you.”
Isaac let out a dark chuckle. “Certainly not. But look at how manyothergentlemen she is drawing toward her.”
His great-aunt looked about, slowly nodding.
“Now look at how many perfectly lovely and perfectly eligible young women all those gents are ignoring.”
Aunt Margarette pursed her lips in a pleased smile. “They do appear quite longing for attention from a handsome man such as yourself.”
Isaac gave her a firm nod. “Precisely. Let Lady Nightingale stay. I’m not fourteen anymore, and her father is no longer with us. She can’t hurt me.”
Aunt Margarette patted his arm. “I am more pleased than you know to hear she won’t be beguilingyouduring your stay here.”
“She’s a snake with green eyes, dear aunt. There’s nothing she could say or do that would draw me to her.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I see several ladies who have been sorely neglected this evening.”
With that, he turned his back on Lady Nightingale and her regal auburn hair and headed toward another point in the room entirely.
