“I expect he’ll be in today. I apologize for asking you to deal with him, but”-Oz put his hands on the chair arms, preparing to rise-“I’ll be out of town for an indefinite time. If you wish to contact me, Josef has my direction in Cambridgeshire.” He rose to his feet. “My wife prefers her country home to the city.”
“I don’t blame her, sir. Winter in the city is insalubrious with all the coal smoke and fog.”
“My apologies again for saddling you with this noisome individual.”
“No need, sir.” Simms smiled. “In my business one learns to deal with all kinds. I’ll send you a message when the transaction is complete.”
CHAPTER 12
WHEN OZ LEFT London, he had every expectation of overtaking Isolde.
But her carriage was built for speed, her bloodstock prime, and she liked to travel fast. Reaching Oak Knoll in under six hours, she jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop and smiled at her gypsy driver. “Excellent time, Dimitri. That’s a new record, isn’t it?”
“By ten minutes, Miss Izzy.”
“You’re the best driver in England.” No one knew horses like Dimitri. “Tell Grover you won the bet, and tell him not to grumble about the sum. I really thought I’d win,” she cheerfully observed.
Since news of her wedding had been carried to Oak Knoll by one of her grooms directly after the ceremony, her staff rushed out to greet her as she stepped down from the carriage. Everyone from her butler and housekeeper to her lowliest footman and scullery maid swarmed around her, offering their congratulations and best wishes.
Their pleasure at her marriage was doubly relished after the insult she’d suffered at Lord Fowler’s hands; his treatment of Isolde had been taken personally by a staff who doted on their mistress. And to have wed a handsome nabob! What better revenge, they all agreed!
“Yes, yes,” Isolde replied to the polite, hopeful inquiries concerning her husband’s appearance. “He should be here directly. He had some business to deal with, and I just wanted to get home.” She grinned. “To see you all.”
“You’re looking right chipper, Miss Izzy. Like a blushing bride!” Mrs. Belmont, the housekeeper who’d overseen the household since before Isolde’s birth, beamed. “I expect your nice Lord Lennox will be wantin’ a hearty meal right soon after he arrives.” She didn’t say that the chef had been scouring his repertoire for dishes from India. Nor did she say they’d heard all the gossip about the handsome young lord who had money to burn-one of the groomsmen had ridden hell-bent for leather to bring them the news.
“I’m sure Lord Lennox will enjoy a fine meal,” Isolde said with a smile for Mrs. Belmont. “And see that our best brandy comes up from the cellar.”
“Indeed, Miss Izzy. With a nice cognac for you?”
“Thank you, yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of business to discuss with Grover,” she said, turning to smile at her steward.
He gave her a very correct bow because Grover prided himself on the civilities. “I’m at your disposal, ma’am.”
With a smile for her staff crowded around her on the drive, Isolde exclaimed, “It’s
The moment she and her steward had made themselves comfortable in his office, she explained her concern. “I’m afraid Cousin Compton is not at all happy with my marriage.”
Her steward smiled wryly. “Deprived as he is of his expectations of marrying you.”
“Indeed. For which I’m vastly pleased as you may perceive.” Relaxing in the old worn chair her father had favored, she gazed across the ancient desk at the man who’d taken care of Oak Knoll well before she was born. “However, he might decide to call, and you can be sure he won’t be up to any good. I wished to alert you to the possibility because I doubt he’ll come alone. In London he bearded me with hired roughs at his back. The staff should be warned.”
“Frederick was always a knave.” Grover’s voice was chill, his beetled brows drawn together in a scowl. “Even as a child he was constantly up to some wickedness and his ambitions are common knowledge. We’ll be on the lookout, miss.”
“Thank you. Compton is imprudent at times, that’s all. I can’t be sure what he might be planning. Lord Lennox tells me his debts are at a point that Frederick himself might be in danger from the moneylenders.”
“Then, as usual, he’ll be coming to you for money. If you don’t mind my saying, Miss Izzy, you’ve been too generous with him in the past. He quite forgets the Wraxell fortune is yours.”
She shrugged. “I have so much; it didn’t seem right to begrudge him.”
“He wants it all, though,” her steward gravely said. “Without a thought for the illegality of his claim or a care for your rights or happiness. There’s a point, Miss Izzy, where one can’t continue to overlook his callous greed.”
Her brows lifted. “You’re telling me that point has been reached?”
“Long since, miss,” Grover quietly said. “As to the present, might I suggest you stay inside for a time?”
“Surely, that’s not necessary.” Isolde smiled at her steward’s solemn expression. “You know my morning ride is sacrosanct.”
“Take a groom with you then, Miss Izzy. A modicum of caution is always sensible.” The entire household understood their mistress’s untrammeled nature. She’d been allowed free rein by her indulgent parents and staff and in consequence was not a model of conformity. “Now,” Grover continued, his thin hands steepled on the desktop, his voice quietly diplomatic, “how would you like your cousin dealt with should he step foot on the estate?”
“I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“I’d call the constable, Miss Izzy.”
Isolde’s eyes widened.
“As a precaution, Miss Izzy. We’re all agreed.”
“The staff has spoken of this?”
“For some time.” He dipped his shiny pate, and his blue eyes twinkled for a moment. “Cousin Compton is universally abhorred.”
She smiled. “I don’t know whether to take issue or be grateful for my staff’s good judgment. But really, Grover, I’m afraid the constable might be a bit much.”
“Compton’s a nobleman, Miss Izzy. And right familiar with doing as he pleases.”
“Oh dear.” She hadn’t considered having him arrested.
“It would be for your own safety, miss. Constable Haw-kins abides by the letter of the law, whether noble or working man.”
Isolde sighed. “Let me think about it.”
“Of course. The decision is yours. You do look right happy, miss, if I do say so myself,” the steward added with a smile. “Everyone is pleased about your marriage.” The scandal sheets hadn’t reached the remote country neighborhood, nor might they ever.
“You’ll like Lord Lennox, Grover. He’s a most charming man,” she remarked. Time enough to define the pragmatic nature of her marriage at some later date. For example, when she announced her divorce plans.
“We all wish you the very best, Miss Izzy. You deserve it. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he politely said, coming to his feet. “The sooner I inform the staff about Compton, the sooner you’ll be protected.”
“Protected from what?”
At the familiar voice, Isolde turned to see Oz walking in, booted and spurred, and shrugging out of his coat.
“Grover, allow me to present my husband, Lord Lennox. Oz, my steward, Grover. We were speaking of Compton and the possibility he might call.”
“A pleasure, sir,” Oz said, nodding at the steward as he strode forward, spurs clinking. Dropping his riding coat on a chair, he raked a hand through his hair as he moved toward Isolde. “As for Compton, I believe he’s
