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He snorted. “What would ye ken aboot me?”
“Because I carry the same name.” He offered a brief bow. “Remington Fletcher, Marquess of Osgood.”
This revelation seemed to take the older man aback for a brief moment. His gaze snapped to his daughter, and then returned to him. “Mary named ye after me?”
Rem shrugged. “I suppose she was part of the decision, because here I stand, and here you are.”
He sagged back against the pillows again, but this time, there was no anger upon his face, just a blank acceptance. After a moment, he said, “I need some time—”
“O’ course, Father. It is a lot to take in at once.” Lady Grace patted his hand, and then stood with the assistance of her cane. Rem might just be imagining things, but it appeared as though each time she stood she leaned more heavily on its support. She paused at the doorway, and glanced back at him, but Rem was there to hold out his arm for extra support. She looked at him with appreciation in her gaze and they left the room together.
Once they’d made it to the end of the hall, she stopped and turned to him. “Thank ye for yer kind consideration, my lord. I ken my father canna be an easy man to tolerate at the best o’ times.”
Rem didn’t know what it was about this woman, whether it was the family tie that was starting to draw him closer to her, or just the fact she had been kind to him from the first moment they’d arrived. But he was inclined to put her mind at ease. “If you’re concerned he’ll run me off, it won’t work that easily. No doubt my grandmother had just cause to name me after him.”
“Aye,” she concurred. “It was likely the same, stubborn strength ye both have.” She sighed heavily. “I’m glad ye stayed, Lord Osgood.”
“Call me Remington.” He winked. “I insist.”
She smiled. “If ye ever get comfortable calling me Aunt Grace, I’d be more than happy to answer to it.”
“That shan’t be any hardship at all, Aunt Grace.” He lifted abrow and offered her his arm again. “I daresay I’d like a tour of the house, if you’re not too tired, that is.”
She stood up straighter and wound her arm through his. “With such a handsome rogue on my arm, I’m already feeling quite revived.”
Rem chuckled as they continued on.
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Isadora was done gathering the herbs on the Cook’s list, and after she’d decided to assist the gardener in cutting back some of the plants in the garden, a trickle of perspiration was trailing down her spine. She straightened from her crouched position and stretched the kinks in her lower back. She lifted a hand to her forehead and noted that the sun was high in the sky. By her calculations, it should be around mid-afternoon.
She removed her gloves and set them aside, along with the shears, deciding it was time to take a quick break. At least her efforts were being noticed, as the Cook and the gardener had both gushed about what a Godsend she’d been to the Palace when they were currently short staffed.
Isadora had spied a fountain in the midst of the roses when she’d been pruning them earlier. It would feel wonderful to strip off her shoes and stockings and allow the cool water to envelope her. With a quick glance around, she noticed that she was alone. But did she dare give in to the urge? Granted, Calliope or perhaps even Araminta might have done so, but not Isadora. As the marquess had said—shedidn’t behave that way.
But sometimes, things changed.
She hastened over to the fountain and found that the trickling melody of the water was entirely too much to resist. It was a three-tiered, ornamental structure with a large basin beneath, where the water flowed gently over to the bottom rim. It was like a small pond, and if she dipped her feet quickly, no one would surely be the wiser.
Looking around her once more, she quickly kicked off her shoes and laid her stockings on a nearby hedge. Then she hitched up her skirts past her knees and climbed over the lip of the lower basin and sat on the cold edge, her feet dangling in the water. She sighed in immediate relief.
She lingered for a brief time until her common sense started to glare at her.It’s time to get out now, it reminded her, but she bit her lower lip uncertainly. There was still no one else around. Thus, she got up and walked a few steps around the shallow pool. It reached to her knees, but it was heavenly, and just what she needed.
Keeping her skirts carefully in her grasp, she wiggled her toes beneath the slight ripples and smiled at the funny sensation. It had been years since she’d gone into the water for fun. The last time had probably been a decade ago when she’d joined her sisters for an afternoon swim at the pond on the estate grounds of Marlington Hall.
Those carefree moments she’d allowed herself had been few and far between. She had always imagined that she needed to be the responsible one. As the eldest, she had taken it upon herself to make sure the family was properly looked after. It was their father’s job to ensure that the finances were in order, but Isadora had been the heart of that study. From an early age, she had made suggestions for improvement and kept things neatly organized, giving the duke additional time to peruse the marriage mart for his next duchess.
There had been times she nearly bemoaned the fact she hadbeen born first, that she wasn’t able to have a frolicking personality like Calliope. Or enjoyed reading like Olivia. Or had been the sister everyone went to for advice, a motherly shoulder to cry on like Araminta.
In London, Isadora knew many believed her to have a heart of ice, but quite the opposite was true. She burned with the same passion as her sisters did. She had just never been comfortable expressing it. The one time she’d permitted herself to do so had resulted in unimaginable heartbreak, partly because she had been so young, and partly because she knew her choices had made it impossible for her to ever marry afterward. She wasn’t the blushing virgin that most men expected upon marriage, but neither was she a loose woman, plying her wares to any and all.
What she had shared with Remington was more than she should have allowed, and yet, she didn’t regret it, because she’d stopped things before they had gotten completely out of hand. She’d been proud that she hadn’t let him unnerve her too greatly. But then, other than their brief meeting this morning at the dining table and the short interlude that followed, she hadn’t seen him since.
“Well, now. Isn’t this a fantastic sight?” She turned with a gasp to find Lord Osgood standing nearby—her slippers dangling in his grasp and a roguish smile upon his face.
Remington likedthis discomfited side of Isadora. He’d saw a glimpse of it this morning, but now, it was apparent she wasn’t sure what to do. For the first time, she wasn’t in control.Hewas.
Struggling to keep her skirts from getting sodden, she bunched them up in one hand and held out her other to him. “Give me back my shoes this instant!”
