Page 12 of A Widowed Earl’s Chance at Love (Whispers of Regency Love)

Chapter 12

“My Lord, there is a note here for you.” The butler cleared his throat and waited patiently with his nose in the air.

Perking up instantly, Henry sat up straight in his chair. It had been two days since his tea with Isabelle, and he hadn’t heard from her again. Taking the note off the tray, he quickly undid the seal and read while his heart beat with anticipation.

Dearest Henry,

I hope this note finds you well. Lord Fitzgibbon and I wish you all the best and hope you will let us know once you are settled in the country.

Yours sincerely,

Lady Fitzgibbon.

His heart sank with disappointment as he crumbled the note and held it in the palm of his hand.

“Will there be a reply, My Lord?” The butler raised an eyebrow in expectation while glancing disapprovingly at his hand.

“No, not at present.” Henry shook his head and settled back in his chair, sighing in disappointment. He had hoped that Isabelle would at least let him know how things were doing. She didn’t owe it to him, but he liked to think they were becoming friends.

The butler didn’t seem pleased at all with his answer as he scowled and bowed before leaving.

Just how much did the man know about his situation with Lord and Lady Fitzgibbon? Henry had suspected for quite some time that the man was a spy, yet he wasn’t certain to what degree they used him for information. It wasn’t unusual for the man to wait for a reply, but he seemed more expectant than usual.

Lord and Lady Fitzgibbon weren’t letting up either with their less-than-subtle notes and comments. He fully expected them to make an appearance at some point and check on his progress.

Isabelle’s large brown eyes slipped into his mind. He didn’t have many friends in the world, but it did seem as if she could become someone he could talk to.

Her aunt didn’t seem very pleased with the friendship, but Lady Sinclair had never been a fan of his to begin with. It had been mentioned to him on occasion that she had been one of the people spreading rumours of his infertility with his late wife.

The memory of his past pain sent a jolt through his body. Things he’d rather forget always seemed to creep up on him at the strangest of times. As if he ever needed reminding of what the doctor had said …

Deciding he needed a change of scenery, he placed his hands on the chair’s armrests and pushed himself up. The Evergreen seemed too likely a place to run into Isabelle again, yet he felt like he needed some time to devise a plan.

Why do I feel so compelled to help her?

He shook off the thought and left the room, reassuring himself that he would have done his utmost to help anyone else, even if they weren’t as intriguing as Miss Isabelle Sutton.

***

Clouds of smoke covered the ceiling as Henry stared into the corner of the dimly lit room. The club wasn’t usually this busy during the day, yet he found the low chatter and noise comforting as he mulled over his thoughts.

A nagging feeling at the back of his mind urged him to devise a plan to help Isabelle. Perhaps it wasn’t proper of him to be getting involved in such a delicate situation, but it wasn’t as if he was trying to win her affection. He didn’t think of her in that way.

Her eyes are so kind …

The unwanted thought crept in like a thief in the night, making him frown. It did seem improper for him to be spending time with an engaged woman, but all he cared about was her well-being.

“It’s a pleasure to see you here at this time of day. Have you finally seen the light and decided to end your years of segregation?” Alfred Hampton sank into a chair beside Henry and smiled, drawing his thoughts away from his troubles.

“You seem awfully chipper this morning?” Henry forced his lips into a smile, reassuring himself again that his efforts were purely platonic and chivalrous, nothing more.

Waving his hand in the air, Alfred dismissed the words. “Ugh, I’ve just come back from meeting my future bride’s parents. The father has quite a nice collection of brandy. Have you ever had such a good glass of aged brandy that you can’t say no to another?” He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially and winked, looking more than just a little dishevelled.

Cocking his head to the side, Henry frowned. “You are getting married again?”

Alfred seemed disappointed at Henry’s lack of interest in the brandy and sighed. “Timid young thing, her parents are desperate to marry her off before she becomes a spinster. I mean, you would have to be desperate to consider an old codger like me for a husband.” He laughed heartily before shaking his head.

Something in Henry’s chest clenched as he sat up a little straighter. “A young girl, you say?” His throat suddenly felt a little too dry as he ran his tongue over his lips.

“Blonde girl, a Miss Sally Beuford or something of the sort.” He waved his words away again as if he had little to no connection with the subject.

Relief flooded Henry’s chest as his shoulders slumped.

Why did I think it was Isabelle?

He suddenly realized how protective he was being towards his new friend, but once again chalked his reactions up to chivalry. It didn’t sit well with him that any parent would be fine with marrying their daughter off to an old codger like Alfred, to use his friend’s words. The ton, in his opinion, operated on a set of rules that baffled any sane mind.

“Forgive me, Lord Hampton, but I can’t see why you would want to marry such a young lady. I wouldn’t be able to commit again.” Henry shook his head and sat back in his chair, curling his fingers over the armrests.

“Commitment, business venture, it all depends on how you look at the matter. A twenty-one-year-old wife seems like a small sacrifice to make given her father’s business connections.” Alfred shrugged and made a non-comital face.

There it is.

Henry sat back and examined Lord Hampton closely. The man was at least his age, if not more. Was that all he saw in a young woman with her entire life ahead of her? Just a business venture. It angered him greatly that Isabelle was possibly being forced to marry a man like Lord Hampton.

If he had ever been blessed with a daughter, he knew for certain that he would never force her into any kind of marriage.

“Do you not think that a young wife would require more than just a little bit of your time? I may not be an expert on the matter, but a good marriage needs attention if there is happiness and unity in a home.” He dug his nails into the armrests while trying to keep his cool.

“My dear man, that is what tea parties and balls are for. We, men, handle the business side of things and fret our time away in places like this while the women partake in frivolity. She will be just fine once I give her a child or two. Good Lord, one would think that you were never married at all. Have you forgotten how these things work?” Lord Hampton smirked before gesturing for a footman to come and take his order.

Seeing red, Henry took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. How had he never seen Lord Hampton for who he truly was? He hadn’t known the man for very long, but he certainly had never seen him act this way in the past.

“Enough of this talk about marriage; that is something I will face in the coming months. What do you say to a game of billiards? We could start a round here and then head somewhere else to slake our thirsts?” He licked over his lips before hungrily rubbing his palms together.

A tense feeling of disgust made his stomach churn as Henry narrowed his eyes and stood. “Forgive me, Lord Hampton, but there is somewhere that I need to be.” He didn’t wait for a response before heading towards the door.

“You aren’t better than the rest of us, Lord Ashford. Mark my words, you are just as fallible as anyone else!” The amount of brandy Lord Hampton had enjoyed suddenly became apparent as he raised his voice and fumbled over his words.

Heads turned to watch as Henry left, making him pick up the pace as he hurried towards the door.

Outside on the street, he breathed a sigh of relief as he shut his eyes and turned his face towards the early afternoon sun. There was a slight coolness about the breeze, nothing too terrible to warrant warmer clothes. Yet the unmistakable scent of autumn was in the air. He’d have to decide fairly soon about going to the country.

Isabelle …

It troubled him deeply to think of her trapped in a forced marriage to someone like Lord Hampton. She seemed like such a free spirit whenever she spoke of things she liked. Her eyes shone with passion while her chin jutted defiantly in the air. Would her spirit be broken if she were forced into a loveless marriage?

His chest tightened again at the thought of Isabelle Sutton marrying Alfred. Logically, he knew that it wasn’t Lord Hampton, but the nagging feeling that it was someone very much like him wouldn’t leave him alone.

Shaking his head, he set off back towards his home, not wanting to think of the fate that awaited his friend in her marriage.

***

Using the back of his hand to stifle a yawn, Henry stretched out his arms and fought off the fatigue. He hadn’t got much sleep after leaving the club the previous day. His dreams had been troubled with images of Isabelle marrying Lord Hampton as tears streamed down her face.

He looked out the window at the bustling people starting their day in the early morning sun.

There has to be something that can be done.

He pulled his lower lips between his teeth as he thought of her smile; she hadn’t smiled much in his presence, yet he wanted to see the corners of her eyes crinkle with mirth.

I want to see her happy because she is my friend.

His thoughts became troubled again when his chest clenched at the thought of her situation. She was certainly an unfortunate heroine in her own story.

“My Lord, Lady Fitzgibbon is here to call,” the butler spoke up from the doorway.

“What is it now again?” Henry snapped without thinking as he turned away from the window with a scowl.

Pursing his thin lips in displeasure, the butler placed his hands behind his back and lifted his nose in the air.

Sighing until his lungs hurt, Henry raked his hands through his thick mop of hair. “Please show the countess in.” He braced himself for the conversation that was to come.

“Henry, dearest, I was afraid I would wake you, but judging by the state of your hair, I am assuming it was a close call.” The countess sauntered into the room and took a seat without being asked. It almost seemed as if she had been waiting in the hallways. Her eyes swept over him with an air of disapproval as she fixed her dress around her ankles.

“I was not sleeping, Lady Fitzgibbon,” he reassured her for the millionth time since his wife had passed. He would never understand why her parents always assumed that he slept his life away.

She wrinkled her nose in disapproval before glancing around the room. “I see that you haven’t got to this room yet. Nothing has been packed. Would you like me to delegate the staff or send more maids to help? Packing can be such a tiresome chore when one is doing it alone.”

“No, Lady Fitzgibbon. I do not think that it will be necessary. I will leave London when I am good and ready,” he answered defiantly and stood his ground.

“No?” The countess placed her hands in her lap and raised her eyebrows in a question.

“No,” he repeated his statement firmly.

“Is there any particular reason why you are delaying your move?” Her words held a tone of accusation that only served to further his annoyance with her meddling.

It occurred to him that his tea with Isabelle in the Evergreen may have spurred a visit by his in-laws. Yet, he would not have any evidence without addressing the matter directly.

“None that would cause either yourself or the earl any inconvenience, Lady Fitzgibbon. I simply wish to tie up all my loose ends in London before I bid the ton farewell. Surely, I am to be granted that courtesy if nothing else? I would hate to leave for the country only to return shortly when I discover something has been left behind.”

The countess searched his face with a deeply rooted look of suspicion before once again pursing her lips. “Very well, I shall keep my peace and not interfere with your plans. I must warn you that the earl and I will not look kindly on any behaviour that could besmirch our good name.”

There it is.

Henry felt as if they had reached the crux of her visit. It would have been too much to ask of Lady Sinclair not to run to her friends with any kind of gossip. Under normal circumstances, he would have left just to keep the peace, but something about Isabelle’s story stuck with him.

He needed to know how it ended before he could move on. Something inside of him knew that he would never be able to rest if he didn’t know how she was doing.

“I can assure you, Lady Sinclair, that any motives I have for delaying my move are purely noble.” He met her gaze, standing his ground for the first time since his wife had died.

“Very well, Lord Fitzgibbon and I will patiently await your note. You will still be letting us know when you leave?” She lifted her chin in the air and looked down her nose at him.

“Trust me, Lady Fitzgibbon, you will be the first to know when my business is handled. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you in the dark.” He turned his head back towards the window and placed his hands behind his back.

All he needed to know was that Isabelle was fine; if he knew that, then he could spend the rest of his life in blissful peace.