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But no, that would likely just cause her further ire, and he certainly didn’t wish to be at odds with her.

As he assisted her into his rented phaeton, he took the reins and set them into motion. Once they were headed for the inn, heasked, “How did you arrive in Newcastle if you are beholden on the generosity of others?”

“I took the mail coach.”

“You don’t say?” He chuckled lightly. “You are quite full of surprises, aren’t you, Lady Isadora?”

“Because I take public transport?” she asked dryly.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted. “Not many ladies of my acquaintance would dare step foot in anything but the most well-sprung carriage. My niece, Portia, is a perfect example. But then, she is just like my elder sister, Amadiah, who is currently taking the waters in Bath with my mother for their ill health.” He snorted. “The only thingillabout them is the fact they wanted to shirk their responsibilities and pawn Portia off on me.”

She spoke softly. “I take it that you don’t have a good relationship with your family?”

For the first time in weeks, Remington allowed himself to think about the letter in his desk in London. The one postmarked from Scotland that is probably burning a hole through the sturdy oak at that very moment. “My familial history is rather… complicated. My mother married my father, an Englishman, but his mother was Scottish. Ever since the time I was a child I never recall us ever visiting Scotland or even speaking about that side of the family. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I receive a letter from a woman claiming to be my father’s aunt. She pleads with me to come to Edinburgh to see my great-grandfather on his deathbed. That he has something of great import to discuss with me—”

Remington shook his head, because he had no idea why he was pouring his heart out to her. The things he was telling her was information that he hadn’t even told some of his closest confidantes. Although it wasn’t as if he had those in abundance. He had always been something of a recluse.

“Are you going to go?”

Her simple query made him shrug. “I suppose I should knowthe answer to that, because it’s not that difficult to say yes or no, but I am having trouble committing, for some reason.” He shrugged. “It’s not as if I am privy to any sort of harsh feud that shall disrupt my current enjoyment of life, so I don’t have any proper excuses other than my own reluctance to go and learn some God-awful secret I would have been better off not knowing.”

There was a pause. “But don’t you owe it to a dying man to grant his last wish? If nothing else, curiosity alone would be the deciding factor for me. I shouldwantto learn the truth. Perhaps if you do, you might find that you are infinitely more relieved.”

Rem blew out a heavy breath as he considered what she’d said. “Naturally, you are the voice of wisdom.” He turned to smile at her. “I’m so glad Grey approached me that day at White’s to enlist my help in winning your sister. If he hadn’t, I might have never met you, and what a shame that would have been.”

Again, she offered him a casual smile, but nothing more. But he found that he was content with that.

As they stopped in front of the Old George, he handed the reins over to a groom who came rushing out of the stables. He handed the lad a guinea and a wink when his youthful eyes went wide. “Take extra good care of these cattle.”

The boy eagerly nodded, and then led the carriage and horse away. Rem stayed by Lady Isadora’s side as they entered the busy taproom, moving past until they climbed the stairs. She paused when they reached her door. “This would be me.”

He bowed lightly. “At least you can’t say I’m not a gentleman for seeing you safely to your rooms.” He chuckled. “Even if you might not have wanted me to.”

Her lips twitched. “I am very thankful for your generosity, my lord. Good night.”

She withdrew a key from her reticule and unlocked the door. She offered him a slight wave, and then she shut the door. He heard the latch as it caught from the other side.

“Good night. Isadora,” he whispered to the wooden barrier, and then he continued on toward his rooms.

Chapter Five

The next morning, Isadora went down to the taproom to break her fast as opposed to taking a tray in her room. She thought it would be nice to visit with some of the locals, and perhaps learn a thing or two about the rail system in town.

However, she paused when she spied the marquess seated at a table by himself. He seemed perfectly at ease as he read a paper and sipped from a mug now and then, yet Isadora couldn’t help but recall what he’d told her the night before. She had grown up in a loving household, even if she didn’t have a mother’s tender care. She had her sisters, and together they had filled the void that had been left from their combined loss. Their father, of course, had always been doting, ensuring that his daughters had wanted for nothing. Lord Osgood, however, sounded as though he had lived a very lonely existence. He might have been blessed with both of his parents, but it sounded as though they were more interested in duty.

She straightened her shoulders and walked forward. “Good morning, Lord Osgood.” He lowered a corner of the paper. “Might I sit with you?”

He blinked, as if surprised, and then he folded the print and hastily set it aside. “Of course, Lady Isadora. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than your company.”

She smiled, because what could she possibly say to all the compliments that he had given her thus far? She did not see herself as quite the paragon that he liked to claim, and yet, she appreciated that someone valued her talents. She had worked hard at becoming adept to her surroundings in a male dominated world, so it was nice when those efforts were applauded.

A serving maid came over and took her order, and then returned shortly with a cup of tea. Isadora blew on the steam and took a tentative sip. Although she was used to the finest teas that money could buy, it was just as good as anything else she might have sampled.

She gestured to the cup at the marquess’ elbow. “The tea is quite lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”

He seemed spellbound for a moment, his focus intent on her, but when she spoke, he glanced down at the drink in question. “I daresay I shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve never been that fond of tea. I prefer coffee in the mornings. And in the afternoons when I can manage it, but that is generally in the comfort of my own home.”

“Ah, I see.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “My father would drink coffee on occasion, but alas, I never really cared for it.”

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