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Moving for the kettle, Isaac said, “Would you inform Mrs. Wickham to contact my tailor?Seems I need a new suit fitting for a ball.”
She still and looked conflicted for a moment, pressing Isaac to say, “Please, speak what is on your mind.”
“It seems to me that you are not incredibly keen about this ball,” Miss Stone said plainly.“It sounds like you would rather be anywhere else.”
Isaac’s lips twitched.“I would rather wrestle with the Cerberus than attend this ball Miss Stone, but I gave Lord Ashford my word and I never go back on my word.”
She nodded.“I see. If it is any worth, I know what it is to face situations you would rather not be in, but sometimes, it might be the best thing for you.”
Isaac heard conviction in her voice but could not bring himself to follow it. “Or perhaps the feeling is a warning to remove yourself from the situation or all, but hell, will erupt.”
She laughed softly.“That too.”
“Thank you, Miss. Stone,” Isaac replied while bringing the cup to his lips.“I will take your wise words into consideration.”
As she left, Isaac did think about her words—would it be best to show his face?
But then, they’ll be sending me invitations to more balls, to more soirees, and to mingle.
Cringing at the thought of discussion nonsense topics with people he did not know sent shivers of horror through him. But then again, when he had agreed to go, he had not agreed to be sociable. Perhaps if he were irascible and irritable, it would put others off from inviting him.
William was always the sociable one, if anything were important in thele bon ton, he would get it from him. It was not as if fashionable society held much help or appeal for him anyway and he openly scoffed at courtship. Finding a lady to replace Helena was a task so insurmountable that Isaac had already decided that he needn’t try, as he had already decided that his life was going to be spent alone.
A terse knock that he associated with Mrs. Wickham sounded on his door and he looked up, as she spoke, “You have sent for me, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” Isaac replied.“I am slated to attend a ball in five days, please send for my tailor so we can see if any of my suits are salvageable or if he would need to make another.”
“Understood,” she dipped her head, “Anything more, Your Grace?”
Briefly, he thought about asking her about MissStone but refrained—as he found that a part of him dearly preferred to discover who MissStone was by engaging with her himself.
“That’s all, thank you,” he said.
She curtsied and left him to his thoughts, and not surprisingly, he found them tuned to Miss Stone, and he wondered how she had gained his attention when he had sworn nothing would.
***
The brisk summer breeze fluttered Louisa’s coattails as she walked to the Winston Estate; it was where her dear and only friend Amelia Johnson worked as maid to theEarl of Breckenridge. They had grown up in the same orphanage and had fought hard to get out of the dismal future that most orphans fell into—poverty and crime.
Louisa had two reasons for her visit, aside from wanting to see her old friendshe wanted to know if Amelia knew more about Duke Westwood. Cook Morna’s dismal words about how the Duke had suffered more than the loss of his parents had carried with her from the night she had heard them. Deeming it too soon to be asking those of the household what cook meant, Louisa felt if best to ask Amelia.
The spring flowers at the side of the road broke up the continuous green of the rolling slopes and hillocks ahead of her. The two estates were less than a mile apart but having walked more than that before, Louisa had nary a problem strolling through the journey.
When she arrived, she took care to follow a backroad that was like the servant-only entrance in Duke Westwood’s home. She arrived at the backyard of the modest three-story house and as per Amelia’s instructions, knocked on the back door.
Moments later, the door opened and a smiling Ameliaflung her arms around Louisa. “You’re here! You’re finally here!”
Embracing her friend as tightly as she was being held, Louisa laughed, “Of course I am here. Where did you think I would be?”
“Laying down on a hillock somewhere between your estate and mine, day-dreaming,” Amelia shrugged. “I know how you tend to getdistracted when you have free time.”
Louisa blushed.“If you meant that instance—I keep telling you that I never meant for that curtain to catch afire.”
Snickering, Amelia closed the door behind her and led Louisa down a path to a set of wooden benches sitting under a thick thicketof trees. Seated there, Louisa was able to untie her bonnet’s ribbonand place it on her lap. She gazed upon Amelia with pleasure and relief that she was with a familiar face.
Her friend looked so happy, her light brown eyes glimmering and stubborn curls of her dark hair, freed from her bun, were curling over her temples.
“So, tell me,” Amelia gushed. “What is it like working at the Montagu home?”
