Page 23 of Lady Isla and the Lord of Rogue (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #6)

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning at breakfast, Isla attempted to broach the subject of Teddy, hoping to discover how much Algie truly knew of him.

Yet it proved quite futile, rather like attempting to breach a fortress wall.

She knew that her brother was no fool. If Teddy really was Lucian Night, surely her brother would be aware of it? This, alone, prompted so many other questions that Isla began to feel her head throb.

He must have known, perhaps from the very beginning.

Then why, in heaven’s name, did he allow Lucian Night into his home?

Why did he conduct furtive conversations with the man in the dead of night within the library?

Why had he not only allowed, but actively encouraged her betrothal to his adversary, the very man he had been pursuing with such determination?

Why was he marrying his only sister to his enemy?

Surely, he couldn’t be earnest about this union.

What did he hope to achieve through such an arrangement?

Why?

Isla tried to broach the subject the very next morning, while Algie was consuming a hefty slab of roast beef, his customary breakfast fare.

But every time she brought up the topic of Lucian Night, Algie would have none of it. He raised a hand. “I’d rather you no longer mention that accursed name in this house, particularly not during a meal. It gives me a migraine, nausea and indigestion.”

“The thing is,” Isla persisted, ignoring her brother’s protests, “I was wondering what you would do if you were to finally apprehend him.”

“I should see him hanged. Once and for all.” He attacked his beef with such ferocity, as if it were Lucian Night himself. “And this time it would be permanent.”

Isla looked at her brother in bewilderment. Then why didn’t he? Doubt crept over her again. Could there be another explanation for Teddy’s tattoo?

She tried a different approach. “Very well. You’re right, it’s an unsavoury topic for breakfast. Let us speak of something else. I am curious about your thoughts on body art. Made in ink. Tattoos.”

Algie glanced up. “Such as the sailors have?”

“Yes. I have discovered that many more people have them. Often the very people one would never expect.” She hesitated. “Do you recall the man I thought I had killed?” She took a big breath. “He had one too. Upon his wrist, of a wolf.”

Algie never stopped eating. “Did he, now? I suppose that explains your obsession with Lucian Night. You wish to know whether the man who bore that mark could have been him.”

Isla looked at him expectantly. “Yes. That is it.”

“How exceedingly clever of you it would have been, had that been the case,” her brother mused.

“You would have rendered me a considerable service, to be sure. But, alas, Pixiekins, that tattoo happens to be common. Ever since Lucian Night became notorious and adopted it as his personal mark, people have been emulating him and inking the deuced wolf all over themselves.” He continued with his meal.

The small spoon she’d been holding fell out of her hand. “You mean to say that just because someone has that tattoo, it doesn’t mean they’re a criminal?”

Algie laughed. “I wish it were so! Imagine us locking up everyone who bears the tattoo of the wolf. But the truth is that it’s quite fashionable these days. Shall I confess something that I learned just recently?” He leaned forward with a grin. “Lord Mountbatten has one, too.”

“What? A tattoo of a wolf?” Isla asked, breathless.

“Indeed.” Algie chuckled into his wine. “Would you believe it? Starchy and proper on the surface like a Methodist preacher, but as soon as he takes off his coat, he’s inked like a common sailor from the Indies. Confessed it to me himself the other day, when he was well into his cups.”

“Oh!” Isla sank back into her chair. “So, it is entirely fashionable these days—” her voice shook “— and there is nothing to it at all when gentlemen mark their bodies with these kinds of symbols.”

“Nothing at all, my dear sister, nothing at all.” Algie was still chuckling and shaking his head.

“I see.”

The relief that swept through her left her light-headed. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she dabbed with her napkin at them, smiling.

“Of course. How excessively foolish of me.” She drew in a steadying breath. “I am so glad.”

“About what?” Algie lifted a finger, and the footman removed the plate and served the pudding.

Isla suddenly noticed that her appetite had returned, and she dug into the lemon custard with renewed enthusiasm.

“Nothing of consequence. I am simply glad.”

“Ah yes, thus speaks the happy bride.”

“Yes.” Her forehead puckered together. “But, Algie, don’t you agree that Linwood’s behaviour has been somewhat peculiar lately?”

He paused, his loaded spoon halfway to his mouth. “In what manner?”

She opened her mouth.

In what manner, indeed? Truth be told, there was nothing in his behaviour that was suspicious, merely the fact that he wore a tattoo. Which, as Algie had just stated, seemed to be the very rage these days.

And that she had seen him in a state of undress.

Isla shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Because he, too, has a—a?—”

“He has bats in his belfry?” Algie snorted .

Isla folded her arms across her chest and studied her brother. “Pray, Algie. Why did you consent to my marrying him if you don’t like him?”

“Never said I don’t like him,” he mumbled.

“No, but you make it clear every time I bring him up. And yesterday at supper, you were not the politest to him, either.”

“I am impatient with people who have maggots in their heads. In this case,” he said in-between two sips of port, “it is clocks rather than maggots.”

“But—”

“But!” He lifted a finger. “He’s a good sort of fellow, otherwise, even if one has the impression that his upper storey is yawningly empty.

” He tapped a finger against his temple.

“But you’re to marry him. We have agreed to advance the wedding to a fortnight’s time.

” He nodded as if the matter were final.

“What?” Isla lowered her spoon. “A fortnight? So soon?”

Algie pulled out his pocket watch. “Yes. Appears to be in a dashed hurry to wed you, which may not be entirely disadvantageous. Now speaking of being in a hurry, if you don’t mind, I really must go.” Algie pushed back his chair. “Dashed pressed for time.”

Algie left, leaving Isla alone.

“Would you care to take tea in the drawing room, my lady?” Falks, the butler, asked.

“No, thank you.” She felt emotionally drained now that the tension she’d carried with her ever since she’d seen Teddy without his shirt had dissolved in such an unremarkable fashion.

“Lord Linwood has sent word that he will come to call this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Falks.” She returned to her room to rest, her heart thumping erratically at the prospect of seeing Teddy again so soon.

How foolish of her to have leapt to such conclusions, she berated herself.

Poor Teddy. He didn’t deserve her unfounded suspicions.