Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord by Sara MacLean (20)

Minutes later, Isabel was pressing her ear to the heavy mahogany door of the earl’s study. She could detect the low hum of masculine voices from within, but their words were impossible to understand. She leaned closer, cursing the earl who had selected such a sturdy portal.

While she appreciated that had the ancestor in question likely had goings-on that he had not wanted overheard, the choice of two-inch-thick wood showed an obvious lack of foresight when it came to the requirements of future generations.

“Nick is in there with him?” she whispered. “Yes,” Jane replied, just as quietly. “He joined him almost immediately.”

Isabel turned an irritated look on the butler. “And why was he given the opportunity to meet with him before I?”

Jane had the good grace to look chagrined. “He asked for you and Lord Nicholas and his sister when he arrived. Since I knew his sister was not an option, I opted for you and Lord Nicholas, not wanting to irritate the man any more than he already is.”

“He seems irritated?”

“There’s no seeming about it. The man is furious.”

“Well, I suppose I should not be surprised to hear that.” Isabel pressed her ear back to the door.

The butler whispered, “You shan’t hear anything that way.”

“Yes, Jane, I’ve discovered that, thank you.”

What were they talking about in there?

Was Nick pleading their case?

Or was he betraying their trust once more?

Isabel quashed the thought. Surely after last night…

“Would you like to sneak around the outside of the house and see if we can hear from beneath the windows?”

Isabel considered the idea for a fleeting moment before she realized just how craven such an action would be. With a frustrated sigh, she turned her back to the door and faced the staircase at the center of the great foyer of the house, where Lara and Georgiana stood. “No. I shall go in.” She set her hand to the door handle before Lara stayed her. “You aren’t going to knock?”

“I am not. For two reasons. First, I appreciate the element of surprise. And, second, it’s my house. The duke had better get used to that idea.”

She ignored the three sets of wide, doubtful eyes watching her and entered the study, closing the door sharply behind her.

“Dammit, Leighton, you’re not hearing me …” Nick trailed off as she entered, turning to give a short bow in her direction. Isabel noted the concern in his blue gaze and ignored the instant pounding of her heart at the sight of him.

He was too handsome for his own good, or hers.

She redirected her attention to the second man in the room.

Who was not much better.

It appeared that the Duke of Leighton was an angel. She’d never seen anyone like him—a man who could only be described as beautiful. He was tall and broad, with a mass of golden curls; high, angular cheekbones; and eyes like his sister’s—the color of warm honey, fresh from the comb.

Surely a man this perfect was not the portrait of arrogant entitlement that everyone claimed.

“I assume you are the chit who is hiding her.” His tone was flat and unemotional.

Apparently he was both arrogant and entitled. And rude.

“Leighton.” Nick growled the name.

Isabel squared her shoulders and ignored the snaking pleasure she felt at his warning tone.

She did not need him. Would not.

“I am Lady Isabel.”

If the duke heard her emphasis on the honorific, he did not let on. “I am happy that you were finally able to find time to join us.”

Her brows rose at the sarcasm in his tone. What a loathsome man. No wonder Georgiana had run from him. “What is it that I can do for you? ”

“I’ve already discussed the matter with St. John.”

His imperious tone set her on edge. “Excellent. And what is it that you think Lord Nicholas will be able to do to help your cause, considering that it is I who run Townsend Park?”

His gaze narrowed on her. “As far as I understand it, Lady Isabel”—he said her name like it was poison—“you have absolutely no hold on Townsend Park, nor anything in it.” She went cold as he continued. “Indeed, it seems to me that my speaking to you will succeed in doing nothing but infuriating us both.” He leveled her with a cool look. “Do not make me seek out Lord Densmore to get what I want.”

He was threatening her!

She opened her mouth to retort, but Nick entered the fray. “I should not have to remind you that we are in the lady’s house, and you will treat her with the respect she is due.”

The duke did not look away from Isabel. “She kidnapped my sister, St. John. What respect is due her for that? ”

“I did no such thing!” Isabel protested.

“Yes, well, I imagine it will sound very like that when the magistrate hears of it.”

Isabel gasped at the threat.

Nick’s scar grew stark. “Leighton. Enough.”

Isabel turned on him. “You call this cretin a friend? ”

“Cretin?” Leighton’s voice shook the walls. “I am a peer of the realm and a duke. You will refer to me with respect.”

Isabel’s eyes flashed. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

The duke lost his patience, turning to Nick. “You will control your female, St. John.”

“I will say it once more. Treat the lady with the respect she deserves, or I will put you through a wall. Again. And there’s no one here to expel me this time.”

His voice was low and menacing, and Isabel was rendered mute by the angry threat she heard there. The duke watched her response, then said, “Well. That seemed to do it.” Silence fell for a long moment before he added, “Lady Isabel, I should like to see my sister.”

Isabel took a deep breath, finally moving to sit behind the desk. There was something about the position that filled her with confidence. Indicating the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, she said, “Why don’t we sit and discuss it?” She waited, feigning patience, until the two men sat. “Would you like tea, Your Grace?”

Leighton blinked once, surprised by the shift in her demeanor. “No I would not like tea. I would like to see my sister.”

“And see her you shall,” Isabel said, “but not before we have spoken.”

Leighton looked to Nick. “Is she always this dogged?”

Nick smiled. “Yes.”

“Of course you would find this amusing.” He returned his attention to Isabel. “Lady Isabel. I am aware of what you are doing here in Yorkshire.”

“Your Grace?”

“Not three minutes ago you called me a cretin. I feel confident that we can dispense with the formalities. I know you are running some colony of females here.” Neither Isabel nor Nick confirmed the idea. “I do not particularly care what you’re doing, as long as you don’t bring my sister into whatever nefariousness in which you are involved. Am I clear?”

Isabel leaned forward, placing her forearms on the cool leather blotter atop the desk. “Not entirely, no.”

“Isabel …” Nick’s tone was edged with warning. “Do not incite him.”

The words only inflamed her ire. “Do not incite him? Whyever not? What makes him think that he can barge into my house, threaten my safety and the safety of those who reside here, and simply expect me to turn over the poor girl?”

“She is my sister!” Leighton thundered.

“Sister or no, Your Grace, she arrived here of her own free will, scared and uncertain and desperate to be far from you! What would you have had me do? Turn her out? ”

“You’ve been harboring the missing sister of the Duke of Leighton! I’ve turned London inside out to find her!“

“With due respect, she was not missing to me.”

The impertinent words shocked the duke into silence. She looked at Nick then, not understanding the gleam in his eye. “Are you going to side with him?”

Nick took a long moment to consider his words. “I think it is best to remain Solomon in this particular argument.”

“Well, I’m certainly not cutting the poor thing in half.”

“A pity. That would have made it all much easier.” Nick stretched out his long legs, crossing one ankle over the other. “Do you think perhaps you would be willing to give His Grace a moment with his sister? ”

Isabel’s gaze returned to the duke. “Assuming your sister agrees, I see no reason why we cannot arrange a meeting.”

The duke dipped his head, the portrait of graciousness. “A noble beginning.”

“If you lay a finger on her, I will have you exited from this house,” Isabel said flatly, as though she were discussing the weather.

Leighton and Nick both stiffened at the words, so clearly an affront to the dignity and honor of the duke, but Isabel remained stoic under their surprised and offended gazes, standing and moving to the door.

She did not know him. Nor did she know Nick, for that matter.

A pang of sadness threatened. She set her hand to the door handle and turned back to the two imposing men standing side by side, waiting. “Georgiana is under the protection of the Earl of Reddich. The full weight of the title is behind her.”

She left then, closing the door firmly in her wake, and Leighton turned to Nick, his tone icy. “The Earl of Reddich is an earl. I am a duke. Last I checked, the hierarchy of peerage is still in effect in Yorkshire, is it not?”

Nick felt a pang of sympathy for the man. “I think you should be prepared to forget everything you have ever believed about your power as a duke. Every resident of this house would swear fealty to that woman before they would King George.”

As would I.

Leighton met his eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re smitten with the girl.”

Nick returned to his chair, allowing the words to flow over him. Smitten. The word did not do justice for what he felt for Isabel. Not after last night, not after this morning, as she had lorded from behind this great desk that had been the seat of men for generations, not after she had fearlessly taken on one of the most powerful men in England … and won.

“Suffice to say, she has earned my respect and admiration. And perhaps more.”

Leighton’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad to take her on, you know.”

“I do.”

“And yet?”

“I shall do it anyway.”

The duke’s nod was punctuated with the opening of the door. Nick stood again as Isabel reentered, and he was struck by her beauty; even dressed for mourning, the lovely shape of her was undeniable—tall and lithe and perfect. She met his eyes briefly, but her gaze skidded away before he could read her thoughts. Was she as consumed with the events of last night as was he?

He had been in his chamber, devising a plan to get her away from the house for the day when the knock had come and Jane had announced the arrival of Leighton.

As usual, the duke had damned terrible timing.

The thought was quashed by Georgiana, who stepped into view behind Isabel, hands clasped tightly in front of her, averting her eyes to the floor of the study.

Leighton stepped forward, and when he spoke, there was immense pleasure in his voice. “Georgie …”

Georgiana looked up and Nick was amazed by the pure emotion in her face—elation mixed with nervousness and sadness, yes, but also with love. When Leighton lifted her off her feet in a powerful embrace, she could not keep her happiness from her tone. “Simon!”

Something that had been tensed in Nick’s chest since the previous day, when he had revealed his relationship with the duke to Georgiana, loosened at the portrait of sibling adoration that the two made—he was now entirely sure that Leighton had had nothing to do with driving the girl north.

Instead, when he set her down, Leighton took her hands in his and said, “I have been so worried, Georgie. You must tell me what has happened. I swear I will do everything in my power to make it right.”

The words brought tears immediately to the girl’s eyes, and she pulled her hands from his, taking a step back, away from him. Isabel was there, putting her arm around Georgiana in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. It was Isabel who spoke. “Perhaps I should have tea brought in.”

Leighton’s frustration—his inability both to understand and to repair the damage that was obviously devastating his sister, set him off again. “For the last time! I do not want tea! I want my sister! What has this place done to her? ”

Georgiana looked up then, fiercely protective of Isabel and Minerva House. “This place has done nothing but take me in. And give me a home. And a purpose.” Nick felt a wave of admiration for the waif of a girl as her voice rose to its full strength. “This place has done nothing but accept me.”

Leighton raked his hands through his hair. “I accept you. Whatever it is, Georgie … whatever sent you running to Yorkshire, I can fix it.”

She met his gaze with the firmness of a queen. “I do not think you can, Simon. I am very happy you came to find me. I am happy to have seen you, even happier that Lady Isabel and the rest of the residents of the Park need not live in constant fear of you coming to find me. But you must let me stay here. This is where I belong.”

“Nonsense,” Leighton scoffed. “You are the sister to the Duke of Leighton. You deserve to have a life that is worthy of a duchess.”

A little smile played across Georgiana’s lips. “And what makes you think that living here is not that life? ”

“For heaven’s sake, Georgiana. Look at this place.”

Nick watched as Isabel opened her mouth to defend the Park before thinking better of it. She met his gaze and closed her mouth. He nodded his approval. Good girl. This was not her battle to fight.

“I like it here. And Lady Isabel has generously offered me a place.”

Disbelief flooded Leighton’s face. “A place?”

The girl nodded. “Governess to the earl.”

The duke looked to Nick, then to Isabel, then back to his sister. “Governess? “ he thundered. “You are employed here? ”

Isabel stepped in then. “It is not, precisely, employment, Your Grace.”

“Oh? What is it then, Lady Isabel?”

“It is more a question of each of the residents of the Park doing what they can for the good of the larger community.”

Isabel trying to explain the reason behind the bizarre world that operated within the walls of the Park was an amusing thing, indeed. If the situation were not so serious, Nick might have laughed. But he had a very real concern that Leighton was in danger of throttling Isabel or his sister or both—which was not at all amusing.

“So if I were to pay for a governess for your brother, my sister would be allowed to go without working.”

Isabel paused, pursing her lips. Nick decided the expression was rather darling. “No, not precisely.”

“I would not want such a thing, anyway, Simon,” Georgiana interjected.

The duke lost his patience. “This is ridiculous. You are coming home with me.”

Georgiana looked to Isabel, who nodded once in a silent show of support. Georgiana took a deep, steadying breath. “No. I am not.”

Leighton scowled. “I’m afraid you haven’t a choice. I am your brother and guardian.”

“Simon.” The girl’s voice grew soft, filled with sisterly love. “I know you are worried about me. I know you want me to come home. But please understand that I cannot. Not right now. I like it here. I feel that I belong here. I am safe here.”

Simon bowed his head, and Nick felt a pang of sympathy for him, this man who had never been denied anything in his entire life. He was confused and uncertain and he wanted to make this situation, which he did not understand, better. Nick had come to understand that sense of helplessness most acutely over the last six days. It seemed that the women of Minerva House were rather expert in developing it in the men around them.

What the girl did not know was that, ultimately, her secret would out. Isabel could hide her for only so long. It was merely a matter of time before news traveled that the Duke of Leighton’s sister was increasing in Yorkshire, bringing a scandal of epic proportions down on Leighton’s head. And his house.

The duke should be prepared to face it.

But it was not Nick’s information to share.

The duke lifted his head. “Tell me what has happened.”

There was desperation in his voice, a bare emotion that Nick recognized as more human, more feeling than he had ever seen the man show. Suddenly, there was no place for him and Isabel in this room. Shifting his attention to Georgiana, he saw the tears well in her eyes, the subtle, uncontrollable trembling of her lower lip, and he was moved to act.

He met Isabel’s discomfited gaze, saw that she, too, recognized the private nature of this moment. “It is time the two of you speak without an audience,” he said, crossing the room to her side and ushering her to the door. “We will wait for you outside.”

Neither sibling responded, remaining still as Nick and Isabel exited the room.

At the sound of the door finding its seat, Isabel spun toward him, concern in her eyes. “She is going to tell him.”

“Yes.”

She began to pace the foyer, lost in thought. He watched as she wrung her hands, the motion unlocking something deep within him. Here was a woman who cared deeply. Who loved powerfully. What would it be like to be on the receiving end of such emotion? Finally, she turned to him again.

“What will he do?”

He took a long moment to think, leaning against the banister of the wide stone staircase that dominated the space. Leighton had always been proper. He’d always been staid and stoic and resistant to change or to anything that might sully his name. He’d always been the type to look down his nose at the baseness of others. When the St. John twins had received news of a half sister arrived from Italy earlier that year, it had not escaped Nick’s attention that Leighton had distanced himself from them at society functions.

He did not like scandal.

And there were few scandals more devastating than a pregnant, unmarried sister.

Isabel was standing mere inches from him, brown eyes wide and worried and beautiful, and his heart ached for her.

“I don’t know what he will do.” He reached out and took her fidgeting hands in his own, clasping them firmly and commanding her attention. “But whatever happens, the girl will be safe. I swear that to you.”

She searched his gaze for a long moment. “I want to believe you. So very much.”

But she didn’t.

She was not willing to trust him again. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

And that truth hurt him more than he could have imagined.

“Isabel—” He did not know what he could say to change her mind, and so it was likely best that the door to the study opened then, drawing their attention.

Leighton stood in the massive doorway, stone-faced.

He had not taken the news well.

Isabel was already moving toward the study, eager to get to Georgiana, to comfort the girl. Leighton’s words stopped her in her tracks. “I should like to speak with you both.”

Isabel—strong, brave girl—met the duke’s cold stare. “Your sister, Your Grace. She needs me.”

If possible, Leighton’s face became more unmoving. “I have no sister. Not today. And the woman in that room”—he paused, and in that brief silence, Nick understood the powerful battle raging within his friend—“she can wait. If you wish to remain mistress of this place, Lady Isabel, you will hear me. Immediately.”

There was an unpleasant, imperious threat in the words, one that Isabel knew better than to ignore. She squared her shoulders, not taking her gaze from the duke. With a firm “Certainly, Your Grace,” she led the way to the library.

Once inside, Leighton moved to the fireplace, staring down into the darkened hearth. There was a long silence, then: “I imagine that mine is not the only family that would be rocked by scandal if this place were found.”

Isabel took a step toward him. “No, Your Grace.”

Nick admired her for her truth in that moment.

Leighton looked over his shoulder at her briefly. “There is a part of me that wants to bring this house to rubble.”

She rocked back on her heels at the venom in his voice. She turned to Nick, and he registered the silent plea in her gaze. He must defuse the situation. He moved, leaning against a nearby pillar in an approximation of calm. “It is not the house, Leighton. And you know it.”

“Without this house, she would have been—”

“Without this house, she would still have been in her predicament,” Nick pointed out, drawing the duke’s hateful glare. “She simply would have had nowhere to run. You should thank Isabel for taking her in.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think that is going to happen quite yet.” The duke turned then, meeting Isabel’s gaze. “The way I see it, Lady Isabel, I have two options. The first, I bring the magistrate down upon your head and take the scandal I have coming now.” Isabel did not respond, remaining stoic under the angry barrage. “The second, I let her stay her. She bears the child. And the scandal comes later. At a time I cannot predict. Because you cannot reasonably protect yourself or your residents, and it is only a matter of time before everything is made public.” He turned to Nick then. “If you were in my position, St. John, which would you choose? ”

Nick felt Isabel’s gaze on him, knew that she was willing him to choose the second option. He also knew that any reasonable person would choose the first. If scandal were to rock a family, it was best that it do so at a time of the family’s choosing, so that they were prepared, so that they could arm themselves against the gossipmongers.

But there was nothing reasonable about this situation for Nick. He wanted Isabel safe. He wanted her girls safe. And there was only one way to ensure such a thing.

“I would choose the latter.”

Leighton laughed, the sound humorless. “You would not.”

“I would in this case. Because there is a factor that you have not considered.”

Isabel could no longer remain quiet. “There is? ”

He looked at her then, registering her uncertainty, her surprise, and behind it all, her fear. “There is. We are to be married. Which puts Lady Georgiana—and her circumstances—under my protection.”

The duke crossed his arms and turned to Isabel. “Is this true?”

Isabel shook her head, her face pale. “No. I never said I would marry him.”

Her denial cut Nick to the quick. The idea that she might not marry him after yesterday—after last night—was unacceptable. Anger flared, along with hurt and irritation. Years of practice kept them from surfacing.

Instead, he turned to cool humor. “Your memory is failing you, Isabel. You said you would marry me yesterday morning.” He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “In the statuary. Don’t you remember?”

Of course she remembered. She gasped at the words. “That was before everything changed!“

“Indeed, it was. Before it became an imperative.” The insinuation in the words sent a blush across her cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!“

“I know precisely what you mean. I also know I am not leaving here without marrying you.”

“I don’t need you. We are fine by ourselves.”

I don’t need you.

The statement set him off. “Yes, I see that. Because you’ve got a houseful of women in hiding with no protection for them and God only knows how many ruffians hunting for you after Leighton put out his call, a house, I might add, that is literally falling down around you, not to mention a child who needs more training than most pups I’ve met and has inherited one of the most troubled earldoms in the country, the sister of a duke about to bear a bastard child, and … you’ve been compromised! But you are fine.

“You think that asking for help makes you weak. What makes you weak is your naïve insistence that if you say you need no one, you will be able to hold everything together! Of course you need me! You need a battalion to keep this place out of trouble!” His voice rose to a thunder. “How can you possibly think that I wouldn’t marry you, you madwoman? His words echoed in the room for a long moment, and Isabel’s eyes welled with tears. He immediately regretted his words. “Isabel,” he said softly, reaching for her, wanting to take it all back.

She held up a hand, staying his motion. “No.” She turned to Leighton, “If those are my options, Your Grace, then obviously I choose the one that is least likely to ruin Townsend Park.”

The duke cleared his throat. “If what St. John has said is true, I must insist you marry, Lady Isabel, as a gentleman.” She nodded.

“I shall send for a minister.”

She nodded again, her lips pressed in a thin line, as though she were holding back tears. And then she ran from the room, leaving Nick feeling like an ass. Frustration flared. “I shall send for a minister, dammit.”

As if it mattered.

He moved to go after her, eager to explain himself.

To apologize.

To do what he could to win her.

“I would not, if I were you,” the duke intoned.

Nick turned on him. “Oh, and your actions with women today seem so very on point, Leighton.”

“She shall come around.”

“Yes, well, I’m not so sure. She is not like other women.” “I had not noticed.”

Nick moved to sit in a nearby chair, holding his head in his hands. “I’m an ass.”

Leighton took the seat across from him and removed a cheroot from the silver case in his pocket, lighting it. “You shan’t get an argument from me.”

Nick looked up. “You’re an ass, as well, you know.”

“I suppose I am.” The duke sighed. “Goddammit. Pregnant. She’s only seventeen. Not even out.”

“You can’t ignore her forever.”

“No … but I can give it some effort.”

“She’s a good girl, Leighton. She does not deserve your anger.”

“I do not want to think on her.” The words brooked no discussion. There was silence for a while, before he added, “So you are in love with the lady.”

Nick sat back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. Of course he was in love with her. She was the most remarkable person he’d ever known. “God help me, I am.”

“In my experience, the path to a woman’s heart rarely begins with announcing her being compromised to a roomful of people.”

“It wasn’t a roomful.” Nick closed his eyes. “I am an idiot.”

“Yes. But she’s going to marry you.”

“Because we’ve forced her hand.”

“Nonsense.”

Nick looked at his friend. “The Duke of Leighton has insisted she marry or he will destroy the thing she considers most dear. What would you do? ”

“It is a fair point,” Leighton allowed. He took several thoughtful puffs on the cigar. “Although I will say this … Your lady does not seem the type to run from adversity.”

Nick thought of Isabel on the roof, and on the Dunscroft commons, and in the kitchens with her Amazonian army. “You are right about that.”

The duke considered his cheroot for a long moment. “Is it possible she cares for you? ”

“Not this morning.”

“You should tell her you love her.”

Nick shook his head. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Afraid she will not return the emotion? ”

Nick met the duke’s serious gaze. “Terrified of it.”

“The bulan. Terrified. How interesting.” Nick resisted the impulse to put his fist through Leighton’s face.

Leighton removed a watch from his pocket, checking the time. “As much as I would enjoy the fight you are so clearly itching to have, the girl is in mourning. You shall need a special license.”

“Which means I shall have to go to York.”

“Aren’t you lucky that I happen to know the archbishop there?”

Nick scowled. “Oh, yes, Leighton. Your arrival has brought with it the very best of luck.”