Page 50 of Lady Controversial
Chapter Sixteen
Isolda watched him go, wondering if she was dreaming, or whether she had taken complete leave of her senses. She wondered as well why he had left so abruptly. He had kissed her…well, almost. Had her response disappointed him? There was no possible way for her to know.
She brushed the hair away from her forehead with her uninjured arm, thinking it would be just as well if she had come across as being impossibly immature. The type of distraction he created, the feelings he could so easily generate deep within her core with just a look, a gesture or the touch of his fingers were totally unrealistic. A distraction that she could easily do without.
A distraction that she yearned for.
He had brought her back here to save her from Brooke’s clutches because he had a score to settle with that gentleman and she was now intimately involved in his struggle. She would do well to remember that she was simply a means to an end. In fairness, it was as much in her own interests as it was in the earl’s to get the better of the horrible man once and for all. She and Jane would know no peace until he was put firmly in his place, which if Isolda had any say in the matter would be a gaol cell.
She returned her thoughts to Ellery, who had taken it upon himself to move her entire household to his estate. She would have to think of a plausible explanation that would satisfy Jane and not raise her expectations. She rolled her eyes and smiled, well aware that Jane would be planning the society wedding of the year inside her head, with her blushing becomingly at Ellery’s side.
Suddenly weary and conscious of the throbbing pain in her forearm that she’d not felt the entire time Ellery had been with her, she vaguely wondered just how bad the injury was and whether it would stop her from fighting again. Not that there was much possibility of her doing so, given that working for Barker was now impossible. She knew that she would not perform for Lord Brooke, not for a king’s ransom.
Fortunately it was not the weather for short sleeves and Jane would not see the damage or ask awkward questions.
‘Ah, there you are, miss.’ A maid thrust the door open. It was almost snatched from her hand by a gust of wind that caused the fire to gut. The rain continued to pour down. The maid bore a ewer of hot water that she had somehow managed not to spill and carried items of clothing draped over her other arm. ‘His lordship said I was to extend you every courtesy.’ She giggled, clearly misinterpreting Isolda’s purpose and the reason for her occupation of the cottage, but quickly brought her reaction under control. ‘My name’s Alice,’ she added, bobbing a curtsey.
She decanted the contents of the ewer into a basin and laid the clothing out in front of the fire, where it steamed. There was a lawn nightgown and a robe, Isolda noticed, as well as a wool day dress and other useful garments, including a hair brush.
‘Goodness! Where did all this spring from?’
‘I believe the garments are Lady Jemima’s cast-offs. His lordship explained that you got caught in a storm and he rescued you and that you can’t get home in this weather. Oh, and that you got injured too. No good ever comes from a young lady being out and about in such weather, and all alone too.’ Alice shook her head as she prodded at the fire with the poker. ‘I never did hear such a thing, but don’t you worry none, you’ll be safe and warm as you like here.’
With no other alternative available to her, Isolda submitted to Alice’s ministrations, closing her eyes in appreciation as the maid ran a brush repeatedly through her hair, untangling it and fashioning it into a thick braid. When had anyone last dressed her hair for her? she wondered. It seemed like a lifetime ago, even though Mrs Compton did sometimes insist upon providing that service. She was not as proficient as Alice, though, and Isolda simply enjoyed the moment.
Alice tutted as she helped Isolda out of her male attire but refrained from voicing her disapproval as she helped her to wash her hands and face. She tutted again at the sight of her bandaged forearm but Isolda’s silence discouraged questions as to the nature of her injury and Alice was too well trained to probe, despite the fact that she was clearly bursting with curiosity. No doubt the entire servants’ hall would be depending upon her for particulars of the earl’s unconventional guest. The fact that Isolda had not revealed anything of interest would not, she knew, prevent Alice from speculating, and doubtless wildly exaggerated stories would be circulating below stairs at Finchdean Hall before breakfast was served.
‘How long have you worked for the family?’ Isolda asked.
‘Oh, I’ve been there forever. I started as a kitchen maid and worked my way up. I’m an under-lady’s maid now,’ she added proudly.
Isolda smiled, aware that there was no such position but conscious of the fact that the lower classes put as much stock in their pecking orders as the aristocracy did. Presumably, the obliging Alice stepped in when the official lady’s maids had time off. Isolda already knew that she was very proficient at what she did and gratefully lifted her arms so that the soft lawn nightgown could slide down her body like an unspoken promise.
‘There now,’ Alice said, helping Isolda into the robe and tying the belt. ‘You’ll be as snug as a bug in a rug. I’ll just turn down the bed. Shame we don’t have a warming pan.’
Isolda blinked, not having thought to explore the rest of the cottage. There was a great deal to explore, she discovered as she followed Alice down a flagstoned passageway with doors on either side. Three bedchambers with roofs that didn’t leak and a small kitchen that would warm the entire place once the range was alight brought a smile to Isolda’s face. Mrs Compton would be in seventh heaven.
Isolda followed Alice into the main bedchamber where a candle threw her surroundings into flickering relief. Rain pelted against the window glass, rattling it, but no draughts crept in around the frame.
Of course they did not!
She slid into the bed and drew her knees up to her chin, warmer than she could recall having been for many a long day, despite the cold sheets. She thanked Alice and dismissed her, keen for solitude in which to reflect.
It would be easy, far too easy, to lean on Ellery and allow him to assume responsibility for her problems. But of course, that was not something she was willing to do. She could not remain here indefinitely for that reason, and also because she sensed her presence would be resented by the dowager countess, about whose self-awareness she had heard so much. When their residence on the earl’s estate became common knowledge, it would have the added disadvantage of raising eyebrows locally and creating unwanted speculation insofar as his intentions were concerned.
Of more immediate concern was Barker’s reaction to her absconding. Was he in league with Brooke? Had they reached an agreement about her situation without bothering to consult her? From the manner in which Barker had spoken to her on the journey to the contest, to say nothing of the fact that he had gone to the trouble of collecting her in person, she was inclined to think that was likely the case.
There could be little doubt that he would reveal her identity to Brooke for a price, and then how would she protect herself?
With such worrying thoughts clouding her mind, Isolda thought she would be unable to sleep. Instead, images of Ellery’s laughing eyes filled her imagination, and despite the throbbing pain in her arm she slept more soundly than she could recall doing for months.
She woke with the dawn, stretched and winced when pain shot through her injured arm. There was however no fresh blood on the bandages, which she took to be a good sign. Through a gap in the thick curtains she could see that the storm had given way to a crisp and bright morning. Frost glistened on branches that tapped against the windowpane, already thawing with a steady drip.
Isolda wondered what she was supposed to do now. Unaccustomed to idleness, she slipped from her bed, shivering as she dressed in the wool gown that had been delivered the night before. Her injured arm made her movements slow and awkward and she had only just achieved her objective when the door opened and Alice appeared.
‘Oh my goodness, miss, what are you doing up already? I’ve come to bank up the fire and make you breakfast. His lordship was most insistent on the point.’
Isolda wanted to tell the girl that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself but she knew that her independence would be resented. Besides, it was pleasant to be fussed over for a change. She must simply ensure that she didn’t get accustomed to such luxury.
