Page 28 of Rescuing a Tantalising Heiress
“No, not the gardens nor the estate. It’s…not safe,” he said, and that, it seemed, was the end of the matter.
Despite her earlier bravado, Isabella did not want to make a scene. She was a guest at Howdwell Heights, and the viscount had been nothing but kind to her, but when breakfast had finished and the pair had exchanged pleasantries as to the coming day, Isabella felt resolved to follow her heart, rather than her reason.
“I’m going outside,”she told herself, waiting for Edward to retreat to his study.
Augusta was still in bed, and Isabella could hear Hetty humming to herself in the drawing room, where she was dusting. The dining room had been cleared, and the rest of the servants—including Anne—would be belowstairs. Now was her chance, and she slipped upstairs to find Caesar, who barked at the sight of her.
“Be quiet, Caesar. We’re going outside,” Isabella said, fixing a lead to the dog’s collar and hurrying him back down to the hallway.
She had put on a shawl upstairs, for the spring mornings could still be chilly, despite the bright blue skies. Isabella had made a careful study of the house during her confinement. She knew every corridor, every room, and every entrance, and now she slipped out of a side door into the garden, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she did so.
Isabella was not a naturally rebellious character, and it was not her intention to deceive Edward or to go against his word. But on this bright spring morning, when the birds were singing in the trees, and the world seemed filled with possibility, the thought of danger was a distant concern.
“Isn’t this lovely, Caesar?” Isabella said as she hurried along the terrace and down the steps to the lawn.
Isabella knew from which angles she could be seen from the house, and she had no intention of being discovered during her walk—or after it. If she was able to walk unnoticed for half an hour or so each day, she would be more than happy. At Burlington Grange, Isabella was used to doing precisely what she wanted, and it was that lack of freedom at Howdwell Heights she found most difficult to cope with.
“Oh, to have some fresh air. Isn’t this delightful? And what a beautiful day it is,”Isabella thought to herself, hurrying Caesar along the ha-ha, to avoid being seen from the house.
The gardens at Howdwell Heights were magnificent, and Isabella could only imagine what they would be like at the height of the summer when everything was in bloom. The sun was warm now, and she was regretting taking a shawl, despite the earlier chill of the morning. In front of her, the parkland stretched out towards the moorland, and to her right, the woodlands through which she had come on the fateful night of her escape from the kidnappers.
“It’s just nonsense to think I’m in any danger here. I’ve seen no one. It’s the loneliest place I’ve ever been,”Isabella said to herself, taking a path skirting the edge of the trees towards Augusta’s rose garden.
She was still trying to avoid being seen from the house, but as she glanced towards the dining room windows, a sudden noise caused her to pause—it was the sound of voices, and she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat as she listened.
“I’ll not be seen, don’t worry. Stay for a few moments longer, won’t you? I’d break into the house if I could. That Marston fellow…what right has he got to tell you those things about me?” a man was saying.
Isabella was curious—this did not sound like a kidnapper plotting to snatch her, and yet the words about breaking into the house brought fear to her heart. But in a sudden burst of foliage, the mystery was resolved. Hetty appeared from the shrubbery, followed by a man dressed in the rough clothes of a farmhand.
“You’ll get me sent away—I’ll meet you here tomorrow. And no more of your kisses. What would my mother say, and…oh, my lady,” Hetty exclaimed, catching sight of Isabella, who breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, Hetty. I thought you were…well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, even as the maid looked at her fearfully.
“It’s not what it looks like, my lady. Joe was just…we were…well…” she said, her cheeks blushing a deep red with embarrassment.
Isabella smiled.
“I’m not supposed to be out here, either, Hetty. I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine,” she said, and the maid smiled.
“I will, my lady. Now, be off with you, Joe,” she said, turning to the young man, who smiled and hurried off through the trees.
“Thank you, Hetty. You can go back to the house. I’m going to walk a little further. I’ve been inside for over a week. I need to be outside,” Isabella said.
The maid looked at her sympathetically.
“Don’t worry, my lady. We’ll keep one another’s secrets. Joe’s a good man, even if he can be cheeky at times,” she said, hurrying off through the rose garden as Isabella shook her head.
“Come along, Caesar. Let’s hope we encounter no further surprises along the way,” Isabella said, resuming her walk and feeling glad to have finally taken matters into her own hands.
Chapter 12
“Lady Augusta requests your presence in the drawing room, my lord,” Marston said, and Edward looked up from his correspondence with a look of resignation.
“Does she, indeed? Then I suppose I’ll have no peace until I go to the drawing room, will I?” he replied, laying down his quill and rising to his feet.
Augusta could be demanding at times, though Edward readily admitted to indulging her. His sister required a delicate hand. She was an emotional creature—hardly surprising, given what she had suffered at the hands of her husband and after his death. He found Augusta eating breakfast—though the late hour of the morning made it almost luncheon—and reclining by the window, looking out over the gardens.
“What a beautiful day it is,” she said, looking up as Edward entered the room.
