Page 26 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“And when did that stop anyone from falling in love? I’d say it makes it easier. The feelings arise before one knows the truth about the person. I’m not criticizing you for it, Edward. It’s only natural,” Benjamin persisted.
“But enough of all this. Why don’t you come and meet her? Perhaps she herself might know something—something she’s unaware of. A name, a place, a connection. There are bad people in this world, Benjamin—we know it well enough. We’ve got to find those responsible, even if they do just turn out to be bandits seeking to extort her father,” Edward said.
He knew he could not rest until the culprits had been caught, and now he beckoned Benjamin to follow him, leading him upstairs to a long gallery, where doors opened out onto a small terrace above the hothouse. It had been Edward’s mother who had altered the house in this way.
She liked to sit and look down on the exotic citrus plants growing beneath the glass, the juice of which she would have squeezed to drink, claiming it had restorative and health-giving properties. Augusta and Isabella were taking tea there, along with Caesar, who barked as Edward and Benjamin approached.
“You see, Edward, we’re quite safe—no one can approach without Caesar alerting us to their presence,” Augusta said as she turned to greet the two men.
“Might I introduce Lady Isabella Burlington? This is my friend, Benjamin Bradford, the Baron of Longley,” Edward said.
Isabella rose to her feet. She was wearing a pretty white dress and a large bonnet to shade her eyes from the sun. She smiled and dipped into a curtsey.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied, and Benjamin took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, my lady. I’m so sorry to hear of the ordeal you’ve suffered, though I fear I’ve been of little help in apprehending those responsible,” he said, shaking his head.
Augusta rolled her eyes. Edward knew she had little time for Benjamin. She considered him a bad influence, though Edward would never admit as much to his friend. But he and Benjamin shared a special bond, and they had faced many dangers together. Edward trusted Benjamin, and if the baron told him there was no evidence of a plot against Isabella’s father, Edward believed him. Isabella looked somewhat confused.
“Oh, are you…” she began, glancing at Edward, who intervened.
“Forgive me. Benjamin has been helping in the enquiries your father and I are conducting. He lives in London, and we feel certain the reason for your kidnapping can be discovered there,” Edward replied, even as he was feeling less and less certain about anything.
The matter was a mystery, and with every day that passed, it seemed they were no closer to solving it.
“Then I thank you for your services, but…aren’t we assuming too much? Couldn’t the matter simply come down to opportunity—just as we’ve already discussed? I can’t imagine I’m in any danger now,” Isabella replied.
Benjamin glanced at Edward and shrugged.
“That would be one possibility, my lady,” he replied, but Edward was adamantly against such an idea.
He was convinced of a plot and of the imminent danger in which Isabella found herself. They could not let down their guard, and even her sitting on the sheltered terrace above the hothouse was a danger.
“And if it’s not, what then?” Edward replied, shaking his head—if only they knew the dangers lurking on every side, if only they knew the things he knew.
“I shouldn’t linger too long. I’ve got to get back to London. I’m sorry my journey wasn’t more successful,” Benjamin said, bowing curtly to the two ladies after further pleasantries had been exchanged.
Edward accompanied him to the hallway, disappointed his friend had not found something—anything—to prove Edward’s suspicions.
“Keep looking,” he said, and the baron raised his eyebrows.
“I will, but I still don’t understand why you’re so intent on finding what doesn’t appear to be there,” he said, and Edward sighed.
“I’ve got to help her,” he said, knowing his growing feelings towards Isabella would not allow him to do anything else but continue.
Chapter 11
“Another game of cards, my lady? Or a little embroidery, perhaps? You’ve not finished the rose on this handkerchief,” Anne said, holding up a half-finished specimen.
Isabella groaned.
“Yes, but I’ve finished them on the other twenty,” she said, pointing towards a pile of neatly pressed handkerchiefs, each of which she had embroidered with a different coloured rose.
Isabella was bored. Even the books in the library were not proving a total distraction. She was used to being outside, walking in the gardens of Burlington Grange, having picnics by the boating lake, and wandering through the woods of the estate, where wildflowers bloomed, and she could watch wildlife roaming freely.
It had been over a week since her arrival at Howdwell Heights, and the only outside space she had enjoyed was the awkwardly placed terrace above the hothouse, which did not even enjoy a proper view over the gardens.
“We could go down to the library, perhaps? I’m sure there’s something there…” Anne began, but Isabella shook her head.
