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Isaac agreed. Word had started just after the country assembly last week that Lady Nightingale’s cousin would be coming to spend the winter with her. After she let it drop that Mr. Allen’s good opinion mattered greatly to herself, the man had been elected a member of Greenbulls faster than any gentleman had ever been admitted into any club. With over half the young men in Carlaby bent on courting Lady Nightingale, Isaac hadn’t been too surprised.
Not nearly as surprised as he was now to find Mr. Allen young, thin, and almost boyish in appearance with glasses almost too big for his face. Then again, the many freckles across his face may be what gave him such a youthful visage. Freckles alone could dramatically alter one’s appearance like that.
But no matter how Mr. Allen looked, or acted, or spoke, Isaac knew better than to trust the man. He was related to Lady Nightingale, which meant he was related to Mr. Grant, which meant he was not someone Isaac cared to associate with. Isaac pulled open his paper and once again turned his gaze toward it.
No matter how much he wished to ignore the happenings around him, however, he was still aware of Mr. Allen being introduced to the gentlemen playing hazard with Robins. It seemed Mr. Allen’s voice was a suitable match for his appearance, boyish and young. Poor lad. It was quite possible Lady Nightingale was using him to some unfair advantage. Isaac paused in his reading of recent events. Should he warn the chap? Or was it equally as likely that Mr. Allen knew exactly what his cousin was and was already on his guard?
Isaac eyed Mr. Allen out of the corner of his eye. The gentleman looked hardly the type who would engage in some underhanded plot of his own volition. But, then again, one never could tell just by looks.
“Take a chance?” Lord Gulliver asked Mr. Allen, extending him the dice.
“I think not today,” Mr. Allen said, moving around the table and sitting beside Isaac instead.
It made sense the man would sit there, where he could easily converse with those playing hazard while not being in the way of the game. Still, Isaac angled his paper around to block any conversation between himself and Mr. Allen. Perhaps he was doing it a bit brown, but he didn’t care for the acquaintance and Mr. Allen might as well realize that now.
Isaac was further ready to read his paper and ignore all else when the conversation, immediately and unsurprisingly, turned to Lady Nightingale.
