James blinked up at his sister, considering his options. Apparently, an afternoon with his governess somewhere other than the schoolroom was too enticing. Returning George to his home, the boy tore from the room, leaving Nick and Isabel to the mess.
Nick watched as the turtle emerged from his shell and tore a chunk from a nearby leaf, chewing leisurely, unaware of any external upheaval.
Oh, to be a turtle.
He turned back to Isabel, who was staring up at the hole in the ceiling. And then he saw it. One lone tear tracked from the corner of her eye down her cheek. She brushed it away immediately, so quickly that it was almost as though it had not happened.
But he had seen it.
Hell.
“Isabel—” he said, the uncertainty in his tone sounding foreign to him.
With a deep breath, she turned to him. “There isn’t much we can do about it now, is there? We shall just have to hope that the rain stops before we must build a bathing room here.”
And, in that, he recognized how much he admired this woman. Every other female he had ever known—from his mother, to the women he took to his bed—used tears to manipulate.
This one hid them.
And that made her even more remarkable.
He wanted to pull her to him. To give her a chance to let down her guard. She had an immense amount of responsibility. He did not blame her for feeling overwhelmed. But he knew implicitly that she would not want him to mention the tears, so he didn’t. “All the very best houses in London are installing bathing rooms. They’re spending small fortunes to do so. You would be the very height of fashion.”
There was something in her eyes when she met his gaze—something between relief and gratitude. “Well, how lucky are we, then, to have such an accommodating roof? ”
She chuckled then, a ripple of sound that teased his senses. He allowed himself to join her, and they laughed for a long moment, enjoying the companionship and the release.
When Nick’s humor ebbed into silence, it gave way to a realization. He liked this girl. Far more than he would like to admit, frankly.
A sobering thought. One that inevitably led to pain. Or shackles.
He cleared his throat. “I wondered at James’s nervousness about your safety, but now I see that he is not wrong to be concerned. Danger does have a way of seeking you out.”
Her brows snapped together. “James is nervous about my safety?”
“Yours, his governess’s, Lara’s … ‘the girls,’ as he refers to you.” She looked away instantly. “Isabel, is there something you should tell me? ”
Tell me. He willed her to confess everything. If she did, he would do everything in his power to keep them safe. But she had to trust him.
She didn’t say anything, of course, instead moving across the room to fetch a pail in which to put the large chunks of plaster that had shot across the room upon impact.
“Isabel … I can help you.” He heard the words come out even as he knew he should not speak them.
“What makes you think that we need help?” Her tone was light, but Nick heard the thread of tension there. He was too aware of her to miss it.
He crouched low, across from where she had stooped to clean up the plaster. He put one hand out, settling it on her wrist, letting his bare hand linger on the band of skin between her glove and her sleeve. “Do not push me. I can tell there is something amiss.”
She looked at the place where they touched, then farther, to meet his eyes. There was steel in her gaze. “It is not I who is doing the pushing, my lord. All that is amiss is a leaky roof and a visitor who will not leave well enough alone. Stop attempting to understand us. We are not your problem, Lord Nicholas. You would do us both well to stop pretending that we are.” Silence fell in the wake of her tirade. She pulled her hand from beneath his, and resumed her cleaning. “I can take care of us. I always have.”
There was a wealth of pain in the words.
“I never suggested that you couldn’t.”
She turned on him then, her voice rigid. “Yes, you did. Everyone does. But I’ve been here for years. Alone. Keeping the house together. And I shall be here long after you leave. Leaky roof and child earl and all.”
The wicked rise and fall of her chest underscored her frustration, and he said the only words he could think. Words that were utterly wrong. “Let me help you.”
Her gaze narrowed on him, the rise and fall of her chest violent in the still room. “You want to help? Appraise the damned marbles.”
She turned away again, and he watched her, fists clenched in irritation.
There was something going on in this house. He had faced enemies too vicious to recount—men who could inflict pain with scientific precision. Women with cold hearts to rival any of their male peers. Villains with more wealth and power than any evil man should have. He knew with an unwavering certainty that he could conquer whatever demons Isabel faced—that he could save this girl. This earldom. Without question.
But he did not know why it was so important that he do it.
What was it about this woman, this house, this place … that made him want to stay when his whole life, even a hint of permanence, of responsibility, even the threat of remaining too long in one place, had sent him running for the next adventure?
He wasn’t leaving her. Not until he was certain they were all safe from whatever evils they were facing.
He simply had to convince her to let him do what he did best.
One of them had to stop lying.
And so he told her the truth.
At least, part of it.
“For God’s sake, Isabel. I know about the girls.”
Eleven
* * *
Lesson Number Four
Enlist allies.
Wooing your gentleman is waging a war. You will need superior strategy, time-tested tactics, and a trusted company of men (or women) to ensure victory. Strategic alliances will be necessary—nay, critical to your success! Consider friends, family, servants, and others who might help to bring you together. Do not discount the power of a willing host or hostess; a true gentleman will never ignore a hint to waltz, and it is a small step from a waltz in a ballroom to a walk in the gardens … And from gardens filled with strains from a ball, chapel and aisle are no distance at all!
Pearls and Pelisses
June 1823
There was something rather calming about his discovery of Minerva House.
She wouldn’t have expected it to be so … She would have expected to be panicked, or to feel compelled to deny what he had seen—to scoff at his discovery and move on as if nothing had changed.
But what she felt when he’d looked her right in the eye and, as though he were announcing the weather, proclaimed his knowledge … it was more akin to relief than to panic. She was tired of hiding from him … of waiting for him to discover their secret in one way or another. In hindsight, it had been silly of her to imagine that she could keep the truth from him.
“You’ve a female butler, female footmen, and a female stable boy.”
She stood at his words, removing her gloves, which were ruined from the plaster she had been cleaning. “I’ve a female stable master.”
He ignored the correction. “You’ve a houseful of women.”
“Not entirely.”
“How many, entirely?”
She paused. “All but one.”
He turned away from her. She noticed the scar on his cheek, white and stark with frustration. She watched his hands cup the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling. “Your brother.”
“The earl.” It seemed imperative that she underscore the title.
“The ten-year-old earl.”
“What does it matter? He is still the earl!”
“It means there is no one to protect you!” The words shook the room, surprising Isabel with their power. All at once, she was angry. Angry at the truth of the words. Angry at the universe. Angry at this man—who had known
her for less than three days—and his insistence that she must be protected. That she could not care for herself. For her brother. For her girls.
“You think I do not understand the straits in which we are? You think I do not see the risks we take? You think that if there were another way, I would not have found it?” Tears came fast and furious. “I never asked for your help, Lord Nicholas. I never asked you to protect me.”
He met her gaze, frustration flaring in his blue eyes. “I know, Isabel. You wouldn’t dare ask me for help. You are too afraid of revealing your weakness.”
“Perhaps I do not ask you for help because too often it is men from whom we need protection. Did you consider that?”
She immediately regretted the words, which fell between them like a stone.
He did not deserve them. He was not like those other men. She knew that.
Even as she knew he was infinitely more dangerous.
“I am sorry.”
He searched her eyes for a long moment. “It was easy enough to discover that they were female, but who are they? Why are they here? ”
She shook her head. “You cannot really believe that I would tell you that.”
“Are they criminals? ”
“Some of them? I’m sure you would think so.” She knew she wasn’t being fair. But she could not stop herself. She was transfixed by the movement of his hands, clenching and unclenching slowly. “Some are just girls who needed an escape.”
“If you are harboring criminals, Isabel, you could go to gaol.”
She did not answer.
“People may come looking for them. That is why you keep them secret.”
He was putting it all together, but she would not give him the pleasure of acknowledging the truth.
“The marbles. Your concern about finances. It isn’t just for James. It is for them.”
“I never denied that I needed the money for more than James’s school.”
“No. You merely omitted the whole truth.”
“It is not your truth to bear.”
“It seems I bear it nonetheless.”
“I never asked you to do so.”
He did not respond, instead turning back to the window, looking out over the wet, stormy land beyond. She could see only the scarred half of his face, the white line stark in the gray morning light, whiter still for his stony silence. He stood there for long minutes, unspeaking, until Isabel thought she might go mad from it. Finally, he spoke. “You can trust me.”
Trust. What a lovely word.
There was something about this man, about his strength, about the way character virtually seeped from him, about the way he looked at her with patience and honesty and promise, that made her desperate to believe him. That made her want to place her faith, her trust, her girls, her house … everything she had … in his grasp and ask him to help her.
But she couldn’t.
She knew better.
Oh, certainly he thought he could help them. He thought he could be their protector. Certainly the idea appeased some kind of masculine desire within … but she had seen what happened when men with pretty words and strong arms grew bored of their surroundings. Of the needs of the women in their lives. She had watched as her father had deserted her mother, leaving her with nothing but a crumbling estate and a broken heart.
If she leaned on him now, she would not survive it when he left.
“You have brought me into your world, Isabel, like it or not. I deserve to know.”
There was no room to trust him. No matter how badly she wanted to do so. No matter how much his strength and his certainty—and his kisses—beckoned to her.
This man was more dangerous than legions of men like her father.
She shook her head.
“So you will not tell me.”
She held her ground. “No.”
“You do not trust me.”
I want to!
“I—I cannot.”
Something flared in his eyes—something dangerous—and Isabel wished she had not said the words.
He took a step closer to her, his voice low and dark. “I will find out on my own, you realize. I am an excellent hunter.”
She did not doubt it. But she would not let him see that. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. This is not a collection of marbles. You cannot expect them to simply open up and tell you all.”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “They would not be the first women to do so.”
She did not like thinking about other women opening up to him. She remained silent.
“So it’s to be like that, is it … Izzy? ”
There was something in the sound of her childhood nickname that made her feel laid bare. She did not like it. Not one bit. She squared her shoulders. “So it would seem.”
“Excellent. Then let the hunt begin.”
“This makes everything easier, doesn’t it?”
“The girls will certainly be happy that they do not have to be so careful around him.”
Isabel looked from Gwen to Jane, certain that the pair had lost their minds. “I don’t think you understand. This is not a good thing. Lord Nicholas knows that we are hiding a houseful of women. He knows that Minerva House exists. This is not good.”
She removed a sheaf of papers and an inkpot from a small kitchen drawer and sat at the large table in the center of the room. “I’ve got to find space for you all. I’m moving you from Townsend Park until all is settled. I’m sure I can find half a dozen households willing to take in a girl or two.”
Silence fell at Isabel’s words, only the sound of the nib of her pen scratching across the paper in the room. Gwen and Jane looked to each other, then to Kate, urging her to speak. “Isabel … perhaps you should reconsider such a drastic action.”
“It’s not drastic at all. It’s the only intelligent course of action. Lord Nicholas knows that we’ve a household of women and it is only a matter of time before he discovers just how you all came to be here. Then what? Do you think that Margaret would take a girl or two?”
“Margaret used to live here. Of course she’d take some of the girls in. But is it necessary? Why not just wait for the marbles to be sold and move everyone?”
Isabel shook her head. “It’s too late for that.”
“You cannot believe that Lord Nicholas would reveal our location,” Kate said in disbelief.
“I can, indeed, believe it,” Isabel argued, not lifting her gaze from the paper in front of her. “Why would he side with us?”
“No,” Kate said, “I cannot believe it.”
“It’s nonsense!” Gwen agreed. “It is clear that he is a good man …”
Isabel stopped writing to stare at Gwen. “How could you know that? You haven’t even met him!”
“Well, I’ve seen him. And heard him with you. Between that and his willingness to help us, that seems enough.”
Isabel blinked. “It seems nothing of the sort.”
“I think that what Gwen is trying to say is that he seems like a good sort of man,” Jane said cautiously. “After all, he came out to value your marbles on nothing but a random invitation. Such a level of generosity is rarely nefarious.”
“Such a level of generosity is nearly always nefarious! Why, he could be anybody! He could be …” Isabel paused, searching for the very worst possible identity. The girls looked on as she struggled, smiles tugging at their lips.
“Yes? “ Jane prompted.
“He could be a procurer of women!” Isabel announced, one finger in the air to punctuate her words. “A whoremonger!”
Jane groaned.
Kate rolled her eyes. “He’s not a procurer, Isabel. He’s a man who happens to be interested in helping us. And we just so happen to be in need of some help.”
“He also happens to be one of London’s Lords to Land, don’t forget,” Gwen added.
“And that,” Kate agreed.
Isabel groaned then. “Oh, how I wish I’d never heard of that ridiculous magazine. Then I
wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with!” She looked from one girl to the next, each looking more sheepish than the last. “My God. You think I should be pursuing him.”
“Perhaps you could try following one of the lessons. Number three, maybe? “ Gwen was hopeful.
“Wooing Lord Nicholas St. John is not a reasonable solution to this problem!”
Jane spoke then. “For heaven’s sake, Isabel. You’ve a generous, wealthy gentleman—”
“Handsome, too,” Gwen interjected.
“Fine. A generous, wealthy, handsome gentleman who seems to want to be kind and helpful to you—despite your attempts to dissuade him of such—and who just so happens to have taken an interest in our situation, which, I might add, is precisely the kind of situation that could well be solved by a wealthy gentleman’s interest. As far as I can tell, wooing St. John is the very best solution to our problems.”
“Not to mention that you haven’t much choice anymore, Isabel,” Kate said. “If you’re going to keep Minerva House solvent and secret, this is your best chance.”
Isabel looked from her butler to her stable master and back again. “I thought neither of you wanted a thing to do with this silly magazine and its silly rules!”
They at least both had the grace to look sheepish.
“That was before it seemed to be our best bet of keeping a roof over our heads,” Jane said.
Isabel scowled. “He is a wealthy gentleman who happens to be acquainted with the lion’s share of London! What if he knows your father, Kate? Or the man from whom you stole, Jane?”
Kate shook her head, rejecting the threat. “First, I highly doubt that your handsome lord knew my brute of a father. And, second, I think that if this all goes in the direction we’re expecting it to go, I won’t have anything to worry about.”
Isabel’s gaze narrowed. “He is not my handsome anything.”
“That’s not what Gwen says,” Kate teased, setting Jane and Gwen snickering.
Isabel considered throttling the lot of them. Why couldn’t they take this seriously? How could they not take this seriously? It was for their safety that Minerva House had been so carefully protected for so long. It was for them that Isabel had worked to keep their location and their identity so quiet.