Page 34 of Lady Isla and the Lord of Rogue (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #6)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Summer had given way to a cold and blustery autumn, with an early snowfall. The weather suited Isla’s current mood. Three months had passed, and still she had not forgiven her brother.

She feared she never might.

At one point, Isla cautiously made inquiries about where Teddy might have been buried. She had a quiet yearning to visit his grave, just once. But she could not bring herself to ask Wynthorpe. Instead, she asked Meggie to look into it discreetly, with the aid of a generous bribe to ensure silence.

“Well, m’lady, seems there was a bit of a muddle,” Meggie reported.

“They say ‘e might’ve been taken to Potter’s Fields.

Or handed over to the college of surgeons.

What with all of them bodies in the warehouse, they piled ’em into carts and mixed some of ’em up.

Could be ‘e was cut up first, and what was left buried in unconsecrated ground.”

Her descriptions turned rather more graphic than Isla cared to hear, and her face paled. “Thank you, Meggie. That was rather more detail than I required.”

Even so, she went to Potter’s Fields and laid a small bouquet on a pauper’s grave. But her heart had felt empty, and her eyes had been dry.

Isla was taking breakfast in her morning room, alone, but she had little appetite. She toyed with her eggs, which had grown cold, and crumbled her bread roll to pieces.

Falks, the butler, suddenly appeared before her, making her jump. “Falks. I did not hear you come in.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am. His lordship is enquiring whether you might object to him joining you for breakfast.”

“Wynthorpe hasn’t left for work yet?” That was a divergence from his usual daily routine, for she was breakfasting late this morning.

“No, ma’am.”

Isla shrugged. “Fine. He can join me if he wants. I have nearly finished my breakfast, however.”

Algie hesitated in the doorway so that she didn’t immediately see him. Isla set down her fork. “Good morning.”

Algie cleared his throat. “Good morning. I only wanted to see how you are. Haven’t seen you in a while. Been so busy lately.”

“I’m well,” Isla said evenly.

“Good. That is good to hear.”

“Please, sit.” They were speaking like strangers.

Algie sat. Falks brought a tray with coffee and toast and nothing more.

Isla raised an eyebrow. “That isn’t your usual fare of beef, potatoes and French beans?”

“I find it necessary to lose some pounds,” he replied. “The doctor prescribed a strict diet.”

She set down her coffee cup. “Ah.” Now that he mentioned it, he did seem to look somewhat trimmer, and his face had lost some of its roundness. It suited him.

“Otherwise, I’m in good health, in case you were wondering.”

She nodded politely. Once, she would have fussed over his health and seen to his diet herself. Now she had not even known the doctor had called. It was a sign of how far apart they’d grown.

“You don’t look too well yourself,” he added with a worried frown. “You seem thinner, too.”

They ate in awkward silence, with Isla merely pushing her eggs from one side of the plate to the other.

Algie finally set down his cutlery and sighed. “Pixiekins.”

She picked up her cup again, even though it was empty. “Hm?”

“When will you finally forgive me?”

His eyes were sorrowful.

Isla stared at her plate.

Forgiveness.

That wasn’t something one could simply offer like that. She was hurting too much still. The pain was still too sharp. But neither did she want to go on like this, estranged from Algie. It was unbearable.

“There is no name on his grave,” she said suddenly.

“There is a simple cross, set there by some kind soul. But otherwise, only wild gorse and thistle and nettles grow there. Sometimes a dandelion or ragwort. I therefore took the orchid he once gave me. It will probably not survive in such a place, but I thought it was too sad that his grave should have no flowers at all.”

Algie shifted around uncomfortably in his chair. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

“Is it? I have done a great deal of thinking these past weeks. I have done nothing but think.”

“What have you been thinking?”

She met his gaze at last, direct and unflinching. “The thought that haunts me the most is a question. A ‘what if?’.”

Algie shook his head. “Really, Isla, there is no point in dwelling on the past and on breaking one’s head over ‘what ifs’ and to recriminate oneself over decisions that one has made.

There is no sense in torturing yourself with what might have been.

Whatever choice you made, there would only ever have been one outcome for Lucian Night.

It was always going to end that way. In truth, this may have been a kinder, more merciful end.

No trial, no spectacle, no scaffold. Surely you can see that? ”

“I wasn’t speaking about Lucian Night.”

He gave a brief shake of his head. “Then of whom, pray, were you speaking?”

“Myself. I was thinking: What if I had refused to go with you and Mama at the orphanage that day? What if I had refused to listen to Jem and ran away, back to Lazlo’s kumpania ?

Would my life not have been so very different?

I would not have lost Jem. I would never have known, and lost, Teddy.

” Her voice caught. She would also never have known Algie.

That realisation struck him as well. He stared at her, stunned. “Isla! You can’t possibly mean that.”

Didn’t she? At that moment, she felt like she did. Very much so.

“You asked about what thoughts were going through my mind, and I have told you. Make of them what you will. I am, as you can see, not entirely myself these days.” She pushed her plate back.

“I have an appointment with Mrs Fry. If you will excuse me, I must get ready.” She rose and left the room, casting a glance over her shoulder.

Algie still sat at the table, as motionless as a marble statue.

That evening, he summoned her to his study. Isla, who had had a busy day, had planned on retiring early, but Falks appeared with a message from her brother, saying he wished to see her without delay.

“Immediately, he said?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed, my lady. ”

Algie stood in front of the fireplace, staring into the roaring flames.

“You wished to see me?” She folded her hands before her, feeling like one of the supplicants who visited his office each day.

Algie turned. “Indeed. Please. Do sit.” He indicated the armchair by the fire, and she took her seat, smoothing her woollen skirt.

He came straight to the point. “I have spent the entire day thinking about what you said at breakfast. I have made the momentous decision to breach certain security protocols and tell you things I ought not to. Given the circumstances, I believe it is justified. I want you to know the truth, and I trust that nothing I am about to say will leave this room.”

“By all means,” she said quietly.

He took a brief turn about the room before continuing.

“You must understand that secrecy is of utmost importance in order for these operations to work. It is upon which everything rests. Due to the nature of our operations, we often rely on agents and civilians to help us infiltrate parts of society that would otherwise remain closed to us.”

Isla nodded. She had, after all, once assumed that Teddy had been such an agent.

“At times, we ask them to play certain roles to gather intelligence.”

“Espionage,” she said.

“Of sorts.”

“Go on.”

“Most times, this is not a problem. The difficulty we encountered with you was that your quick mind made you unusually adept at piecing things together.”

Isla tilted her head. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that your investigations into Jem repeatedly interfered with our work.”

She blinked. “I do not quite see how that could have been the case, but continue.”

“There were several incidents where we had to delay our plans because of your presence. You decided to scour the rookery. You discovered the significance of the wolf insignia. You began searching for Lucian Night yourself.”

Perhaps he had a point.

“Most significantly, where Jem Fawe was concerned, we decided, or rather I decided, to put an end to it once and for all.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“I hired someone to play the part.” He paused, then continued. “I know this will do nothing to redeem me in your eyes. If anything, it adds to the wrongs I have already committed. But we needed you to stop looking for Jem Fawe.”

“In other words, the man I met at the inn was not Jem at all.” Her breath caught. Of course. A part of her had always known. He had seemed so distant. So utterly disconnected.

“But he knew things about our childhood that only Jem could have known.”

Algie nodded. “That is because you did know him as a child. He was at the orphanage, too. He knew both you and Jem. His real name is Cam Lowe. He was also Romani.”

“Cam Lowe.” The name stirred something. An image surfaced of a scruffy boy trailing after Jem.

He’d been younger, with perpetually hungry eyes, and a cruel streak.

He was one of the mean boys who used to force her to give up her morning porridge.

Until Jem discovered it one day, and smashed his fist into his nose, saying if he ever came near Isla again, he’d do worse.

Cam had backed off after that, and Isla had completely forgotten about him.

Isla gasped. “You hired Cam to pretend to be Jem?”

“Yes.”

“How could you?” she whispered.

His shoulders sagged. “I know it was a reprehensible thing to do. We were running out of time. I will not ask for your forgiveness. It is beyond forgiveness. But Isla, I want to make it right. And I have good news. I have found Jem. The real Jem. I want you to meet him. We can leave for Yorkshire tomorrow if you wish. If there is anyone who can help ease the pain you are feeling now, I believe it is him.”