Page 95 of The Rake's Daughter
Leo shuddered to think of the bills he was going to receive. His aunt had convinced him that Mrs. Price-Jones would need appropriate clothing for her role, and having seen her in her widow’s weeds, he had to concur.
He hurried over to his aunt’s house and sent Treadwell off with a message that he wished to speak privately with Miss Isobel. He would await her in the front sitting room.
A short time later the door opened and Isobel entered. Leo rose to his feet. “Miss Isobel, thank you for—” he began, and then broke off as a large female clad in bright, clashing colors followed her into the room. It took a moment to recognize her. “Mrs. Price-Jones?”
“Indeed, Lord Salcott. As you see, I have left my widow’s weeds behind me.” She plumped herself down on the sofa, pulled out some knitting and eyed him brightly. “Now, what did you wish to talk about?”
“I wished to speak withMiss Isobel,” he said with delicate emphasis.
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Privately.”
“Yes, yes. Private as you like. I am the soul of discretion.” The knitting needles clacked busily.
Frustrated, Leo glanced at Isobel, hoping she would explain to this fool of a woman that they needed private conversation. Instead she stood gazing serenely out of the window, acting as if the discussion had nothing to do with her. Though he thought she was secretly amused.
He turned back to the chaperone. “Mrs. Price-Jones, I don’t think you understand. I wish to speak with Miss Isobel.Alone.In private.”
“Oh heavens no, dear boy, we can’t allow that. What sort of a chaperone would you take me for if I left one of my charges alone with an unmarried man, eh?” She finished one row, turned her knitting around and started another.
“I am her guardian, and your employer,” he grated. “It’s perfectly proper.”
“You’re not my guardian,” Isobel pointed out. “You’re Clarissa’s but not mine.”
Leo gritted his teeth.
The chaperone nodded complacently. “Even so, I wouldn’t leave Miss Studley alone with you, either. Mooossst improper.” She beamed at him and kept knitting. “So talk away, I won’t mind.”
“But I mind,” Leo said savagely. “Good day to you, ladies.” He left.
***
That went well, don’t you agree?” Mrs. Price-Jones said as the back door slammed.
Izzy looked at her. “ ‘Well’? He’s furious.”
“Yes, dear, furious and beautifully frustrated. It’s a very good sign.” Mrs. Price-Jones kept knitting.
Puzzled, Izzy sat down opposite her. “I did think it was quite amusing, but in what way is infuriating Lord Salcott a good sign?”
The woman stopped knitting. “The man is obviously enamored of you, dear gel. And so, when I denied him his private conversation, he was practically foaming at the mouth with frustration.” She chuckled. “I do like to see that in a man.”
“ ‘Enamored’? He’s not. He can’t be.”
Mrs. Price-Jones laughed. “Oh, my dear, of course he is. I saw it at once the day I arrived. He barely took his eyesoff you. He’s dotty about you, though, like most men, he’s having trouble admitting it.”
Izzy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, my dear, of course he is. Now, the question is, do you want him?”
Izzy gave her a troubled look. Did she want Lord Salcott? Well, of course she did, but that didn’t signify. The fact was, she couldn’t have him. Earls simply didn’t marry penniless bastards. But she couldn’t explain that to Mrs. Price-Jones. They’d agreed to keep Izzy’s illegitimacy from her. It was one thing to deceive society themselves, but another to implicate their chaperone. When the truth came out, she could be as shocked as everyone else.
Slowly she shook her head. “No, I don’t want Lord Salcott.”
Mrs. Price-Jones gave her a shrewd look. “Really? If you say so, my dear.” She turned her knitting around and started a new row. “So, tell me, what do you want in a husband?”
“I’m not looking for a love match,” Izzy told her, squashing the pang she felt as she said it. “I need to make a practical marriage. Having no fortune, I want security more than anything.”
