Page 36 of Lady Isla and the Lord of Rogue (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #6)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Isla jumped up from the bench, grabbed her umbrella, and pointed it at Teddy like a rapier. “Explain yourself.”

He backed away, raising both hands in protest. “Careful with the umbrella, you’re about to poke my eyes out.”

“That is entirely intentional.” She glared down at him. “Well?”

“It isn’t as you think…”

She took another step forward, and the tip of the umbrella pressed into his chest.

“It’s a rather long story.”

“That we’d best be telling together, I suppose.” Algie had stepped out onto the veranda. “It’s all my fault, Pixiekins. No need to skewer him for it.”

Isla scowled at him. “I fail to see how this isn’t his fault.”

Catherine stepped out behind him, her eyes bright with curiosity, coming to a sudden halt when she beheld Teddy.

“Ooh! Linwood! Aren’t you supposed to be dead and buried?

I can’t seem to decide whether you’re a fiend or a friend.

How vexatious of you. But wait—hold with the storytelling for one moment.

Isla, dear, why don’t we all gather inside, since it’s freezing out here?

Mrs Gardener is offering us some hot negus.

Then, let us listen to his story, and I shall serve as your juror.

If his tale isn’t convincing, you may wallop him with your umbrella afterwards. ”

With her words, an icy blast of wind rose, and Isla shivered.

She lowered her umbrella. “Very well. But take heed. If you utter another falsehood, I shall return to London at once and never talk to either of you again.” She pointed her umbrella at Algie this time.

“I shall disown you entirely and no longer call you brother. Mark my words. Come, Catherine.” She took her friend’s arm and sailed past Algie.

Algie rubbed his chin. “You had best make a decent job of it,” he muttered to Teddy.

It was indeed more pleasant inside. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the maid had brought in a tray with mugs and hot negus. Mrs Gardener had excused herself, for she needed to tend to her wards.

Isla sat in an armchair by the fireplace, with Catherine next to her. Algie sat uncomfortably in a plain chair, and Teddy paced in front of the fire, pulling his hand repeatedly through his hair. When the maid offered him a mug, he declined.

Isla warmed her hands on the mug and sipped from it. The hot liquid spread through her, and she felt how it gave her fortitude. She was no longer frozen and shocked.

But furious.

The deception involving Lucian Night she could forgive. She could understand the reasoning behind it, could see how certain forces had converged to place her in the situation she now faced. And behind it all, she could see Algie’s hand. But that he was Jem? All this time?

She narrowed her eyes at Teddy, who looked at her ruefully.

After the maid left, she set down her mug and crossed her arms. “Begin.”

“Yes. Well. The thing is this. It is all rather complicated. Where to start? The story is somewhat convoluted?—”

“You’re not helping your case,” Algie growled.

“Starting at the beginning would help,” Catherine put in helpfully.

“The beginning.” Teddy paced. “Where is the beginning?” he muttered to himself. Then he stopped and looked directly at Isla. “Here. This orphanage. Twenty years ago. That day you and I escaped from the orphanage and wandered about the moors. After we returned, we found a carriage from London.”

Isla’s face remained expressionless.

She remembered that day well. Every single moment was seared into her memory.

That morning, she had been crying from hunger.

There had not been enough gruel to go around, and the older children had been served first. She had been left with nothing.

Jem had quietly shared his with her and then suggested they sneak out to the fields behind the orphanage.

He knew where blackberries grew in the hedgerow.

She had gone with him, and sure enough, they had found the brambles and filled their bellies until they could eat no more.

“After we returned, we expected to get reprimanded. Instead, you were called into the headmistress’s office, and Lady Wynthorpe was sitting there, and next to her stood Wynthorpe.” He nodded at Algie. “I snuck into the connecting room and since the door was left half-open, I was able to eavesdrop.”

Lady Wynthorpe and Algie had intimidated her terribly.

They looked very fashionable and were clad in what looked like terribly expensive clothes.

And it had been the first time for Isla to ever talk to such fine people.

Lady Wynthorpe had lowered herself to her level, taken her hands in hers and exclaimed, “You look exactly like Helen!”

She had not understood what that meant. Helen, she later learned, had been her birth mother, the Countess Ellhall, who had died giving birth to her. A mother she had never known.

Her true mother had always been Vanya, for it was Vanya who had pulled her from the wreckage of a carriage accident in which her nurse had died.

But Vanya had wasted away from a lingering illness.

Before she’d died, she had taken Isla to an orphanage.

Jem had followed, unwilling to leave her side.

She must have left behind some clue to Isla’s identity, though Isla never knew exactly what it was, because Lady Wynthorpe had eventually come for her.

A close friend of Lady Ellhall, she had seen it as her duty to raise her dearest friend’s daughter as her own.

Algie had been there with her.

And Algie had, of course, seen Jem eavesdrop from the other room.

Rather than exposing him and having him walloped for his impertinence, he’d merely regarded the boy with some curiosity and let him be.

“I followed you in the carriage,” Teddy was saying now.

That, too, Isla remembered. After she had reluctantly climbed into the grand carriage and it moved, Jem had run after it, calling her name, shouting that they must meet again at the sundial. Again and again, he had repeated it.

And that had broken her heart. She had burst into tears and tried to fling herself from the carriage, but Lady Wynthorpe had held her tightly, murmuring soft words meant to soothe.

At their first stop, an inn along the road, Lady Wynthorpe turned to the innkeeper to ask for a light repast. In that moment, Isla broke free of the footman’s grasp and ran.

Quick as a hare, she’d darted through them all and fled down the lane, all the way back to the crossroads. Not knowing which way to turn, she followed the scent of salt on the wind, crying, “Jem! Jem!” repeatedly as she ran.

She would have escaped, too, if it hadn’t been for a near-collision with a curricle, which pulled up short, and a particularly fast footman, who’d come racing after her.

Struggling and kicking, he’d brought her back, and she was bundled up in the carriage once more, shaking and crying. And none of Lady Wynthorpe’s murmurs, protestations, or soothing words would make her stop crying.

Until she’d reached London, when Algie lifted her on his lap, dried her tears and began talking of pixies and fairies.

“With all the commotion you caused at the inn,” Teddy continued, “what none of you realised was that while the footman was off chasing you, I had already caught up with the carriage. I managed to cling to the rear axle without being seen. Then, when the coach paused at the next stop and the footman was otherwise occupied, I slipped into the boot where the luggage was stowed. I was small and scrawny enough to wedge myself in behind the trunks, even with one already packed inside.”

“That is not entirely correct,” Algie said, lifting a finger. “You must recount the story accurately. For I realised all along that we were carrying a stowaway.”

Teddy gave him a small smile. “Of course you did. And for some reason that still eludes me to this very day, you chose not to say or do anything about it, even though you knew.”

Isla’s mouth fell open. “Wait. Stop. Are you saying you were with us in the carriage? The entire way to London?”

Teddy tilted his head slightly. “Naturally. ”

“And Algie knew?”

He nodded. “I was curious to see what he would do next. I had already noticed him at the orphanage, just as he said, hiding behind the door and eavesdropping on us. While Mama was speaking to you, I wandered into the other room for a closer look. A scrawny, scraggly, half-starved thing, with a pair of dark, clever, defiant eyes. A ferocious little thing, more animal than human. He did not run when I confronted him. Said he was there to protect you. There was something about him. Something I liked. Perhaps it was the fire in his eyes or that sense of loyalty that was quite extraordinary for a boy his age. None of the London lads have that kind of steel. They are far too soft, far too spoiled. I liked that. I liked it very much. I decided to see what he would do. And I was right. He was resourceful enough to get himself to London with us. But go on. Tell us in your own words. Finish your tale.”

“When the carriage pulled up in Grosvenor Square, I waited for the right moment to climb out of the boot,” Teddy said. “But I waited too long. The lid opened, and he pulled me out.” He shrugged and nodded towards Algie. “He made me an offer I could not refuse.”

Algie retrieved his snuffbox from his waistcoat, flipped it open, and took a pinch. “Best offer I ever made.”

Catherine bounced in her chair, clapping her hands. “How wonderful. What a story. I am quite breathless. Now tell us, Linwood, what was that offer?”

Teddy shrugged. “He bought me. Body and soul.” But the harshness of his words was softened by a fond smile.

Algie folded his arms. “I saw great potential in him. I needed men who possessed those characteristics. Men who are utterly loyal. Fierce. Passionate. Clever. Entirely dependent on me, of course. So, I decided to raise him for the Home Office.”

“You raised him?” Isla echoed.