Page 33 of Let Me Be Your Hero
Archibald peered through the narrow window next to the door. Seeing Harrington Astley climbing down, he quickly unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Where is she?” he said tightly, seeing no one but Astley and his tiger.
“Right here,” Astley said, giving his tiger a push through the door.
That was the moment that Archibald noticed that the tiger had rose-pink lips, delicate features, and huge blue eyes.
Time slowed down as he drank in the sight of Isabella in boy’s clothing. Her long, slender legs encased in skin-tight breeches made his mouth go dry, but it was about to get a thousand times worse, because at that moment, she removed her hat and began pulling pins from her hair.
“Ugh, my maid had to pin itso tightlyto get it under this hat,” she explained, then groaned with relief as the whole mass came tumbling down her back in mahogany waves. She closed her eyes as she combed her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. “That’smuchbetter.”
His men were as thunderstricken as he was. Who knew how long they would have all stood gaping in the foyer had his parents not scurried into the room.
“You must be Lady Isabella!” his mother cried, seizing her hands.
“We’re so delighted that you’re marrying our Archie!” his father added.
This was a significant understatement. The news that Archibald was going to marry not just the daughter of an earl but a member of the influential Astley family had sent his parents into paroxysms of delight.
The fact that an unknown group of criminals was trying to kidnap or possibly kill her and that he would be bringing this danger to their door was dismissed with a wave. “That’ll all blow over in the next few days,” his father had said.
“But you’ll be married forever!” his mother exclaimed. “Just think… Lady Isabella Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy! Now, Archie, youmustn’t do anything that might cause Lady Isabella to change her mind.”
“Best not to mention anything about the ironworks,” his father agreed.
As if he needed to be reminded. Trying to court a highborn bride had been a never-ending series of humiliations. Over the past few years, he had been introduced to dozens, if not hundreds, of young ladies. Every single one, save Cecilia Chenoweth, had seemed to regard the prospect of being courted by a trumped-up blacksmith with horror. He’d had young ladies decline to dance with him on account of having turned their ankle, only to see that they had made a miraculous recovery by the next set. He’d had dining partners give him their back for the entirety of a meal, so much did they dread the possibility that he might attempt to speak with them.
And if he had a shilling for every time he’d overheard a young lady say something disparaging about him behind his back, he’d have… well, probably not even a whole pound.
But it would be close, a fact that was alarming in and of itself.
Izzie had never treated him this way, but he feared this was only because she didn’t truly understand what he did. Her notion of a “blacksmith” was the version of Archibald she saw at balls and parties, once he had been thoroughly scrubbed and stuffed into an expensive suit. What she didn’t realize was that he wasn’t merely in trade. He was in a filthy trade that involved hard manual labor and getting his hands dirty.
The key was, therefore, to prevent her from finding out, certainly before the wedding and for as long as possible afterward. It was a daunting enough task at a ball or rout.
But it would be ten times harder now that she was living inside his house. To make matters worse, he’d had no time to prepare and plan. Things had happened so quickly. When he left for Astley House that morning, he’d had no notion that his nextstop would be Doctor’s Commons to purchase a special license. Not that he had any regrets. As unexpected as this turn of events was, the question of whether he wanted to marry Isabella Astley did not require even a second’s thought. The important thing was to seize the opportunity. He would just have to figure the rest out as he went.
He wouldn’t be able to maintain the façade he was determined to construct forever. Eventually, she would realize what he was really like, and she would come to despise him, as every other member of thehaute tondid. Of that, he had no doubt. But perhaps if he hid the awful truth, he could delay her disdain and enjoy a few weeks of newlywedded bliss.
His parents were fawning over Izzie as if she were a visiting queen, but she didn’t seem bothered by their overly effusive display. Indeed, she hardly seemed to notice it. She was busy gazing around the foyer in awe. “You have the mostbeautifulhome.”
This sent his mother into a frenzy. “I am so pleased to hear you say so! Some people have had the nerve to imply that it is overly dramatic.”
“Not at all,” Izzie said, her gaze sweeping the vaulted ceiling before landing upon one of the twelve suits of armor lining the walls. “It’sperfect!”
His mother actually squealed. “How delightful that my son has chosen a bride who has a sense of fashion. It pains me to think how few people do.”
“Oh, my dove,” his father said, “you mustn’t let those people bother you. You know they’re just jealous that they could never afford to do the same.”
Harrington Astley squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve got to head over to Manton’s to keep up the ruse. I also need to give Edward the signal that Izzie made it in all right so he can let everyoneknow. Poor Lucy was frantic when I left, and my mother wasn’t doing much better.”
Archibald shook himself out of his stupor and offered his hand. “Of course. Thank you so much for bringing her.”
“Thank you for taking her on.” He laughed. “You’re going to have your hands full with Izzie.”
He gazed at Izzie, who was busy exclaiming over the pair of dramatic floor candelabras flanking the doorway. “I look forward to it.”
His mother hurried over. “Oh, Lieutenant Astley, do you have to go? How dearly we would love for you to stay and dine with us.”
