Page 23 of Lady Controversial
‘I hope I do not need a reason to call upon my favourite ladies,’ he said, twinkling at Jane as he spoke. She responded with a giggle and flutter of eyelashes. ‘I wanted to assure myself that you were comfortable, but I can see that is not the case.’ He tutted and shook his head. ‘This is most lamentable.’
‘We are mindful of our reputations, despite our reduced circumstances,’ Isolda replied, taking a seat at the table and watching Lord Brooke as he elegantly flipped the tails of his coat aside and resumed his own chair. In a different way, he was as handsome as Lord Finchdean, but looking at him did not produce the same fluttering in her stomach and sense of regret that she had found so hard to explain during her time with the elegant earl.
Isolda nodded her thanks to Mrs Compton when she placed a cup of tea in front of her, grateful that the older lady had remained in the room for the duration of Lord Brooke’s interlude with Jane. She suspected that Lord Brooke would have preferred to evict her, but he could hardly order the woman out of her own kitchen. For the first time, Isolda was grateful not to have a parlour in which to receive guests.
‘I must confess to being distressed by the state of your living conditions,’ Lord Brooke reiterated, stirring his tea and adopting a suitably shocked expression. ‘I had absolutely no idea, you must believe me.’
Isolda did not, and remained silent on the point.
‘When you said a country cottage, I can assure you that I had conjured up a very different image in my mind.’ He glanced around the dilapidated kitchen with its damp ceiling, warped windows and cracked flagstones. ‘I assumed roses growing around the door and…’ He allowed his words to trail off and flapped a hand, as though too distressed to articulate his thoughts. Isolda thought his display of faux concern entirely transparent. ‘If I had known…’
‘Roses do not grow in winter,’ Mrs Compton said, her back to them as she scrubbed a pot. Lord Brooke looked surprised that a mere servant would assume to contribute to their conversation, but wisely refrained from saying as much.
‘Your concern is appreciated, sir,’ Isolda said curtly, ‘but we are perfectly comfortable and besides, our dwelling is no concern of yours. We are not related, and as far as I am aware you won Papa’s estate fair and square.’ A slight frown briefly touched his brow at this oblique reference to his ethical conduct, or lack thereof. Presumably he wondered if word of his cheating had reached Isolda’s ears, but it was not a point upon which he could seek clarification. ‘Pray, do not lose any sleep over our circumstances.’
‘Isolda!’ Jane bounced on her seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Lord Brooke has generously offered us our old rooms back at home.’ She bit her lip. ‘I mean at what is now his home.’
It had occurred to Isolda before now that Jane must miss the only home she had ever known almost as much as Isolda herself did, and she felt a moment’s sympathy for her rather silly, self-obsessed sister. Be that as it may, she bestowed a scowl of disapproval upon Lord Brooke, who pretended not to notice. He and Isolda had agreed not to mention that offer in front of Jane, and Brooke’s willingness to renege on his promise demonstrated a determination that made Isolda highly suspicious.
‘A generous offer, but one that it is impossible for us to accept,’ she said curtly.
‘I don’t see why,’ Jane replied, pouting.
‘The matter is not up for debate,’ Isolda said, firming her tone. ‘We cannot live beneath the roof of a single gentleman without terminal damage to our reputations. Your chances of making a good marriage would be irredeemably affected as a consequence.’
‘Ah!’ Jane’s shoulders slumped.
‘And I would not suggest such a thing,’ Lord Brooke replied smoothly.
Oh yes you would. You have done so before and received an emphatic refusal from me.
Isolda rippled her shoulders and took a sip of her tea. ‘Then we are of one accord, sir.’
‘There is, as you know, a cottage in the grounds of your childhood home.’
Jane’s expression turned angelic and she sat a little taller, assuring Lord Brooke of her full attention.
‘The only cottage I remember is inhabited by the estate manager, Mr Dakin, and his large family,’ Isolda pointed out.
Lord Brooke shrugged. ‘Dakin has left my employ.’
Isolda shared a look with Mrs Compton and frowned. ‘But he was in Papa’s employ for…well, forever, and was highly respected. He knows the estate backwards. Whyever would you part with such a valuable and loyal servant?’
‘We had different ideas about the development ofmyestate.’
The emphasis upon ownership was not lost on Isolda. ‘I see,’ she said through tightly clenched teeth, making a mental note to check on Dakin and ensure that he and his family had been rewarded for their loyalty when his employment was severed. Not that she could do anything to right that situation even if they had not been, but it would be interesting to talk to Dakin and discover the real reason for his eviction.
‘My point is, that cottage is now vacant and, excuse me, is in a far better state of repair than this one.’
‘Oh, Isolda, can we?’ Jane clapped her hands in glee. ‘It would be so lovely to return to everything that is familiar.’
‘Where will your new manager reside?’ Isolda asked.
‘Allow me to concern myself about that, my dear,’ Brooke said pompously.
Isolda knew that a battle of wills was about to erupt and couldn’t take on Brooke and her sister together. She stood, obliging Lord Brooke to do so too. ‘It will be dark soon and you have a ten-mile ride. I would suggest that you leave now.’
‘But Isolda!’ Jane cried, ‘we need not be ashamed if Lord Finchdean calls upon us at Crawley Place.’
