Page 12 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“Oh, I’m sorry—it’s just…well, it’s quite overwhelming,” she said, and the viscount nodded.
“Perhaps you should go back to bed. I could send for the doctor—I didn’t, at first, just in case the house was being watched, and the arrival of a physician revealed your presence. I will do so if you want me to, though,” he said, but Isabella shook her head.
“No, there’s nothing else to be done, thank you. I just need to rest a little, that’s all. But what a wonderful room this is. It reminds me of my father’s library at home, except I’ve read all the books there,” she said.
The viscount rose to his feet. He looked impressed, glancing around the shelves of books and shaking his head.
“I can’t say I’ve read very many of these books,” he admitted.
Isabella could think of nothing she would like more than to spend the rest of the day in the viscount’s library. It was Cicero who had said a library and a garden were all a person needed for happiness, and these were words Isabella had taken to heart.
She loved the gardens at Burlington Abbey, and now she looked out of the window, imagining what it would be like to sit beneath the shade of the large oak tree she could see across the lawn, reading or looking out across the flower beds, their colours like an artist’s palette.
“Oh, but you should—there’s a world in every book. That’s what I think, at least,” Isabella replied, and the viscount smiled.
“Well, you’re welcome to read anything that takes your interest. But you should remain inside, I think. It’s still not safe for you to leave the house. I fear…well, there’s still a threat. We must wait for your father. He alone knows what’s best for you,” Edward said.
“With your permission, I’ll take a few volumes up the bedroom,” Isabella said, smiling at the viscount, who appeared only too happy to permit it.
Augusta poured the tea, and Isabella helped herself to the array of dainty treats and morsels brought in by the still suspicious maid. In the company of the viscount and his sister, Isabella could not help but feel at ease, and she felt glad to have chanced upon them, even in such unfortunate and unpleasant circumstances.
“I know your father a little, though not well enough, I fear. He takes an active interest in the affairs of the House of Lords. Many peers do little more than enjoy their dining rights, but your father really seems to care about the issues of debate—as do I,” the viscount said, helping himself to a scone.
“And yet we’ve never met in society—in passing, perhaps. It seems strange, given the proximity of our lives,” Isabella said.
“A few more days and we’d have been in London for the Season. Howdwell Heights is a remarkable dwelling, but entirely ill-suited to conducting my affairs. We plan to travel to London in the coming days. A week later, and you’d have found only Marston and Hetty to welcome you,” Edward said, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, I see. I must say…I rather avoid society, as a rule,” Isabella admitted.
There was an obvious answer as to why she knew little, if anything, about the viscount and his sister. Isabella avoided society. She disliked it—the idle gossip of theton, the intrigues and scandal. It all meant nothing to her. She far preferred the company of her books or that of the pianoforte.
This was not to say she could not be sociable, and in the company of a kindred spirit, she was entirely at ease. But idle chatter had never come easily to her, and she far preferred her own company to that of those with whom she had little in common.
“A necessary evil at times,” the viscount replied.
“How very true. I’m often alone. My father gets invited to all manner of social gatherings. He was away last night, as it happened—that’s why I couldn’t sleep. I get so anxious when he’s not there. It’s foolish, really. I lost my mother when I was very young—I mentioned the fact to Augusta just now—and it’s as though I’m fearful of losing him, too,” Isabella admitted.
She knew it sounded odd, even as her fear was entirely justified. If her father was to die, Isabella would be in the hands of whichever distant male relative was found to inherit the estate. She would have no rights of her own, no entitlement to remain at Burlington Abbey, or enjoy the privileges such a life afforded her.
“Entirely understandable, and I’m sure he feels just the same way about you, too,” Edward said, with not a hint of judgement or belittlement in his voice.
Isabella smiled. He had immediately put her at ease, and in his company—and that of Augusta—she felt as though she was amongst friends, albeit very new ones. Isabella did not have many friends. She lived a solitary life, but the events of the previous night had demonstrated just how fragile such a life could be and how easily it could be snatched away.
“I love my father dearly—he’s not always the easiest of men to live with, but he’s a kind and decent man at heart,” Isabella replied.
The viscount nodded, glancing at his sister and smiling.
“I hope Augusta would say the same about me. I can be stubborn at times. I’ve never married, and…I suppose I’m used to my own company,” he said.
Isabella was intrigued to hear this. She had half expected him to be affianced, to speak of a courtship in London as his reason for travelling to the capital for the Season. It surprised her to think of such a man as unattached, and without the prospect of marriage, either.
He was charming, intelligent, possessed of handsome looks, a considerable fortune, and excellent prospects in all things. Any woman would surely have considered a match with such a man as being to her advantage.
“As am I,” Isabella replied, smiling at him as the door the drawing room opened, and Marston appeared, looking somewhat flustered.
“The Duke of Burlington, my lord. He’s insistent on seeing you immediately,” the butler said, and to Isabella’s great surprise—and considerable relief—her father now entered the room.
Chapter 6
