Page 14

CHAPTER 14

I saac paid little heed to where his boots carried him as he strode through the dim streets of London. His mind churned with the events of the morning, each thought circling back to the same stubborn truth.

Offering for Fiona had been the right thing—the only honorable thing—he thought grimly.

She needed protection. And I... I needed to make certain no further harm would ever touch her.

The clatter of carriage wheels and the murmur of passing pedestrians barely registered as he pressed onward, his head bent slightly against the evening chill.

It was only when he lifted his gaze that he realized where he had wandered. The familiar facade of his sister’s townhouse rose before him, the windows glowing softly against the gloom.

He stood a moment, considering. The hour was well past dinner; visiting now bordered on the improper. Yet he had come this far.

And perhaps Rebecca’s company is precisely what I require to remind myself there is still some good in the world.

Drawing a breath, he mounted the steps and rapped smartly on the door.

The butler answered promptly, bowing low as he stepped aside to admit him.

“Oh, my lady Rebecca, do come out! It is well past your bedtime,” a harried voice cried from within.

Isaac stepped into the front hall just in time to witness the household’s nurse spinning in agitated circles, her cap askew as she searched.

At the sight of him, the poor woman dropped into a quick, flustered curtsey before resuming her frantic hunt.

A small sound—a muffled giggle—floated from behind a nearby shelf.

The nurse’s head snapped toward the noise, but Isaac lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for her to hold her place. She paused, nodding quickly.

Suppressing a smile, Isaac folded his arms and surveyed the room with exaggerated gravity.

“Oh, it is quite late indeed,” he said, his voice pitched to carry, “and time, I daresay, for the goblins to come out.”

“Indeed it is, Your Grace,” the nurse said, catching on at once.

From behind the shelf came a tiny gasp, quickly stifled. Isaac bit back a grin.

Got you now, little imp.

“Was the little boy they took with them last week ever found, Miss Eveson?” Isaac inquired, his tone one of somber concern.

“I am afraid not, Your Grace,” Miss Eveson replied sorrowfully, wringing her hands for effect. “Word has it he is now a prisoner among the goblin folk.”

A slight rustle behind the shelf betrayed Rebecca’s distress at such a grim fate. Isaac allowed a slow smile to curve his lips, content to let the game unfold a moment longer.

Suddenly, Rebecca burst from her hiding place, her small feet pattering across the hall.

“I do not want to be the next goblin prisoner!” she cried, flinging herself at him.

She was already clad in her nightclothes, her hair a tumble of golden curls against his dark coat as she buried her face against him.

Isaac caught her easily, wrapping one arm around her slight frame.

“Oh, but I thought you wished to join the goblin party this evening,” he said, crouching slightly so that his voice rumbled near her ear. “Is that not why you are out of bed at such a scandalous hour, Rebecca dear?”

The nurse, lingering nearby, gave him a look of immense gratitude.

Rebecca shook her head vigorously, her small hands fisting into the fabric of his coat.

“Goblins are frightful,” she mumbled. “I do not wish to go with them, Uncle Isaac.”

“Fear not, sweetheart,” Isaac said, gently prying her from his coat and handing her over to Miss Eveson. “We shall not let them take you tonight. But you must return to bed, or they might find you yet.”

Rebecca sniffled, nodded solemnly, and accepted Miss Eveson’s hand without further protest.

Isaac straightened, dusting his hands against his breeches, only to spot another small figure descending the stairs.

David.

The boy crept down, his bare feet silent against the polished wood, his nightshirt billowing around his thin frame.

Isaac arched a brow. “And what, pray, are you doing out of bed, young man?”

David froze, one foot poised midair, caught between guilt and defiance. His sheepish smile—a mirror of Rebecca’s—tilted across his face.

“I came looking for Rebecca,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Isaac crossed his arms, one brow still quirked.

An admirable excuse. If only it were true.

“Well, she has been found,” Isaac said, stepping aside and gesturing grandly toward the hall. “And unless you wish to become goblin dinner yourself, you would do well to scamper back to your bed as swiftly as possible.”

David puffed out his chest, his bare feet planted wide apart in a parody of defiance. “A grown man is not afraid of measly goblins,” he declared, the very picture of youthful bravado. “Besides, goblins are only in stories. I do not believe in them. Unlike some people.”

He cast a taunting glance toward Rebecca, who stuck out her tongue in reply.

“I should like to hear you say that again when you become a goblin prisoner,” Rebecca retorted smartly.

Isaac folded his arms and suppressed a smile, the corners of his mouth twitching with mirth.

Little warriors, both of them. And neither with an ounce of caution between them.

As Rebecca and Miss Eveson continued up the stairs, David, not to be outdone, made a face and lurched after them.

“Oh, look, little girl,” he growled, his voice pitched low in imitation of some dreadful creature. “I am a goblin, and I have come to take you prisoner!”

He followed his pronouncement with a series of absurd animal noises that filled the hall.

Rebecca squealed, the sound bouncing off the marble floors, but not in terror—in delighted defiance.

“You are not a goblin, David,” she said stoutly over her shoulder. “And I am not frightened of you.”

Isaac allowed himself a quiet chuckle, the sound warming the chill that had settled in his chest earlier that day.

At least some battles are fought with laughter rather than pain.

“What festivities are taking place in my front hall at this scandalous hour?” a new voice inquired, cutting through the revelry.

Isaac turned to see his sister, Elaine, emerging from a nearby archway, her housekeeper hovering a step behind. Surprise flitted across Elaine’s features as her gaze landed on him.

But to Isaac’s relief, there was none of the sharp displeasure he had half-expected—not after the terse parting they had shared the evening before.

He straightened and offered a slight bow.

“The children were merely returning to bed,” he said, nodding toward the stairs where Miss Eveson shepherded her charges upward.

Rebecca, however, broke away from the nurse’s guiding hand and scampered back down the steps. She launched herself into Elaine’s arms, pressing a quick kiss to her mother’s cheek.

“Good night again, Mama,” she said, her voice brimming with unspent energy.

Elaine caught her daughter instinctively, smoothing Rebecca’s hair with a fond, if bewildered, hand.

Rebecca grinned and skipped back to the nurse, who waited patiently at the landing.

“Good night again, Mother,” David called out more formally from halfway up the staircase, his chest swelling with the pride of behaving, at last, as a proper young gentleman.

Isaac bit back another smile as he watched them go, and Elaine let out a little chuckle as she bid her children goodnight for what seemed to be the second time that evening.

Turning back to Isaac, she gave a small shake of her head and led him toward one of the smaller salons.

Inside, she moved with brisk efficiency, selecting a decanter from the sideboard and pouring two measures of brandy.

“I put them to bed myself,” she said lightly, handing him a glass. “Right before I was called away to tally some accounts with Mrs. Alden after dinner. They were tucked in, kissed, and sworn to good behavior.”

Isaac accepted the tumbler with a nod, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

No governess or nanny could have managed them half as well. Rebecca and David would not be half so wild if they did not feel so loved.

Elaine settled opposite him, perching neatly at the small bar table, her skirts arranged with practiced grace. She lifted her glass but did not drink, instead regarding him over the rim with an expression too careful to be called casual.

“Oh, children,” she said, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “What would we do without them?”

“Indeed,” Isaac said, lifting his glass briefly before setting it down again, untouched.

For a moment, the room seemed to contract around them, the soft crackle of the hearth filling the growing silence.

Elaine’s gaze sharpened. The motherly amusement that had softened her features just moments ago gave way to something graver, something that weighed heavily between them.

“Have you given true thought to your actions, Isaac?” she asked at last, her voice low.

Isaac leaned back in his chair, one arm draped loosely along the backrest.

“I would hardly be here otherwise,” he said, his mouth curling faintly at one corner.

Elaine’s brow lifted as if to concede the point. She tipped her head slightly, studying him with that disarming mixture of affection and sternness that only an older sister could manage.

“And at such an odd hour,” she mused, tapping one finger lightly against her glass.

Isaac shrugged, the movement lazy but not without meaning.

Better odd hours than endless ones spent gnawing on regret.

“I made an offer for Lady Fiona this morning,” he said.

Elaine’s posture straightened, her fingers tightening briefly around her glass. Surprise flickered across her face before she masked it, her eyes narrowing slightly as she weighed his words.

She said nothing for a long moment, merely searching his face as though she might read more there.

Finally, she set her glass down with a soft clink.

“I trusted you would do the honorable thing, brother,” she said.

Isaac lifted his tumbler in a mock salute, the brandy catching the light.

“It is my lucky day, then,” he said dryly, taking a slow sip.

Elaine gave him a look—sharp, familiar, unamused.

“And I trust she has accepted? Her father as well?” she pressed.

Isaac lowered his glass and let out a short, humorless laugh. “Does he have a choice at this moment?” he said, his bluntness falling into the room like a stone.

Their pride has no teeth left to bare. I made certain of that.

“Of course not,” Elaine said promptly. She set her glass aside and leaned forward slightly. “And what of Canterlack?”

Isaac stiffened, the name curdling the good humor between them.

“His ties with Fiona are severed,” Isaac said, the words clipped. “And I hope he remains skulking in the shadows where he belongs.”

The bitterness rose sharp and sudden, scraping against his throat.

It should have been done years ago. I should have ended him when I had the chance.

Elaine nodded slowly, her hands smoothing the folds of her gown in an absent motion.

“I am glad you did the right thing after all,” she said.

The relief that seemed to pour from her was so palpable, so honest, that it struck Isaac harder than he expected.

He cocked a brow, allowing a wry smile to pull at his mouth.

“Did you think I would not?” he asked lightly. “Your lack of faith wounds me, dear sister.”

The jest fell easily from his lips, but somewhere deep, the barb caught.

Perhaps I deserve the doubt. After all, it was my failure once that allowed so much ruin.

Elaine’s face softened at once. She reached across the small table, her fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve.

“It is not a lack of faith, Isaac. You know that,” she said firmly. “But after everything we endured... caution has become my constant companion.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, wordlessly pouring himself another measure of brandy. The liquid caught the light, golden and smooth, but it did little to chase the shadows crowding his mind.

The past still clings to us both, no matter how we fight it.

Elaine, perhaps sensing the weight of his thoughts, straightened and offered a smile—bright and teasing.

“Still,” she said, “all has turned out rather well, has it not? I had begun to despair of ever gaining a sister-in-law. I was almost certain you would never bother to take a wife otherwise.”

Isaac huffed a short laugh. “It is not as if I have been lacking for opportunity, sister.”

“Opportunity, perhaps,” Elaine said, her smile widening, “but never inclination.”

She tapped her chin with a thoughtful finger. “So what plans have you made now, brother? Have you set a date yet?”

Isaac shrugged with deliberate nonchalance.

“Do I need to make any more plans beyond the special licence I have already sent for?”

Elaine pulled a face and gave his arm a playful swat.

“You act as though I never taught you anything,” she scolded, feigning a look of wounded pride. “Honestly, Isaac, you must court the lady properly.”

She folded her arms and fixed him with a look that brooked no argument.

“Never mind the circumstances that led to the engagement. You must spend more time in her company, show her—and the world—that this is a match founded on more than necessity.”

Isaac gave a bland nod, his mouth tightening slightly.

Court her? Spend more time in her company?

He could not deny the odd bubble of anticipation that rose within him at the thought.

Strange.