Page 5 of Lady Isla and the Lord of Rogue (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #6)

Chapter Three

How did one find the Lord of the Underworld when one was a respectable spinster, on top of being the sister of a prominent politician in England? It was a tricky combination, Isla concluded, as she stepped out of the dining room into the corridor.

The eyes of society were perpetually upon her, and what was worse, there was her brother.

Algie must never uncover her true plans, nor could she afford to be caught—ever!

—for that would land him in the gravest of difficulties.

She could cause him serious trouble, the kind that might endanger his political career, and Isla would never allow that to happen.

Whatever she did next, she would have to tread with extreme caution.

The real problem, Isla mused as she stepped down the stairs, was being a lady.

It came with so many restrictions. One perpetually had to keep up appearances, plus, being unmarried, she had to take along chaperones wherever she went.

It was most inconvenient. Isla, however, believed that at her advanced age of twenty-six she ought to finally be well beyond that requirement.

How very vexing it all was! It certainly wasn’t easy being a spinster.

“Lady Isla!” A cheerful voice hailed her from below. “I have been waiting for you these past few hours.”

Thaddaeus Doxford, Lord Linwood, stood at the bottom stairs, a bouquet in his hand, beaming up at her as if she were the Goddess Aphrodite personified.

“Lord Linwood. How do you do? I receive callers at three o’clock in the afternoon, as you well know by now,” she reprimanded him gently, for it seemed as though his morning calls came earlier every day.

Indeed, one day he might turn up before noon, when all and sundry knew that morning calls were supposed to be held in the afternoon.

She led him to the drawing room, leaving the door open, and gave instructions to the butler to fetch her Aunt Agatha as a chaperone.

Linwood followed her eagerly. “I do know, Lady Isla, and I beg your pardon for appearing at this untimely hour, but I had a most urgent reason for this visit.”

Linwood wasn’t particularly tall; he had a well-proportioned figure with an athletic frame and was a full head smaller than Algie, but she was of such petite stature that she still had to tilt her head up to look into his face.

Like always, he was dressed immaculately in a plain brown suit.

His dark hair was slicked back to reveal a well-formed forehead, and he pushed his horn-rimmed spectacles up his nose with his finger.

It was a mannerism that was peculiar to him, a tick that Isla observed with amusement.

Sometimes she counted the number of times he did so during a conversation.

And it was particularly amusing when he did so in the ballroom, while dancing a lively reel.

“What was so urgent?” she enquired, indicating with one hand for him to sit at the sofa near the window.

“This.” He held the flowers beneath her nose. “The rare blue orchid. I have found it, Lady Isla. I have completed the quest. I have discovered the rarest and most beautiful flower in existence, for the rarest and most beautiful lady in existence.” With a flourish, he presented it to her with a bow.

“Goodness! So you did.” Isla blinked at the flower, utterly baffled that Algie had been right.

It had been a fib. She had invented the name of the flower in a moment of caprice, merely to rid herself of his excessive attention at an Almack’s ball.

She had never expected him to take her jest in earnest, let alone succeed.

Accepting the pot from his hands, she examined the delicate blue blossom. It was beautiful, indeed, its petals a deep, rich indigo, so vibrant it seemed almost unnatural.

“How extraordinary!”

“Yes. It was brought back by Dr Griffith from Hindustan. It is said to grow in the deepest reaches of the jungle, and he brought back a specimen and continued to grow it in his glasshouse in Wiltshire. I ventured to his estate to acquire one. I overcame several obstacles in order to do so.” He adjusted his spectacles.

“Like falling into a lake?” Lady Isla enquired cautiously. “Never tell me those rumours are true?”

The colour in his cheeks heightened. “Err. I might have made acquaintance with Dr Griffith’s lake in the erroneous assumption that the flower was found on the island within it.

The little rowing boat had a leak and then I lost my balance…

Dr Griffith corrected my false assumption, of course, after he fished me out of the lake and lent me a change of clothes.

Imagine that, Lady Isla! It turned out his glasshouse wasn’t located on that island after all, but behind his mansion. ”

“Indeed.” Isla set down the flower and crossed her arms over her chest. “You seem to have had quite an adventure.” She briefly wondered where Aunt Agatha was and why she wasn’t here yet. If she was napping, Falks would have a devil of a time waking her.

“Yes. It was my pleasure. I would do anything for you, you know.” He looked at her with a soft expression on his face.

Isla repressed a sigh. She had many suitors, and it normally wasn’t difficult for her to turn them down.

But this one, this Lord Linwood, for some reason was.

Not only was he the most persistent, but he was also so—what was the word?

Na?ve? Innocent? There was something childlike about his manner, something refreshing about the honesty of his emotions, that made it difficult for her to reject him.

His eyes were huge behind his glasses, a melting, trusting, chocolate brown.

Like that of a puppy.

And Isla had a weakness for little children and puppies. The trouble was that Linwood reminded her of both.

“I am most grateful,” Isla said gently. “It is one of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen and knowing of its origin and how difficult it was for you to acquire it, I shall tend to it most carefully. Thank you.”

He beamed at her happily. “I can get more for you, if you want.”

“It is quite unnecessary,” Isla said hastily. “One is quite enough, thank you.” She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “But goodness, time flies. I have some appointments…” She hoped he would take the hint and leave.

Linwood followed her gaze and frowned. “It isn’t correct.”

Isla blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“The time. It isn’t correct. It is now,” he pulled out his pocket watch. “Twelve fifty-eight, to be precise. The clock there is two minutes behind.” He stepped up to it. “May I?”

“By all means,” Isla said after she found her voice.

He set the clock to rights, turning the key in the back.

“There. It is now correct. I have also noticed the Horse Guards Clock in Whitehall is running a minute behind. I dared not mention it to your brother when I met him earlier, but it has been bothering me. What if he runs late because of it? It is important for clocks to be accurate. Clocks are my passion, you see. Do you think you could mention that to your brother? That the Horse Guards Clock isn’t accurate, and he should not trust it, I mean. ”

“By all means.” Isla lifted a hand. “Thank you for caring about my brother’s punctuality.”

Linwood flashed his white teeth at her. “He is a very busy man, after all.”

“Certainly.” She nodded at him and turned to the door.

“Lady Isla.”

What now? She paused and turned.

“Will you marry me?”

He stood at the other end of the room, by the fireplace, his face as anxious as ever, as if he hadn’t asked that question—Isla made a quick mental calculation—thirty-five times already.

The first time had been not an hour after they’d first been introduced to each other at Almack’s. He’d asked her for a dance; it had been a Cotillon, and immediately after, on the dance floor, he’d asked her to marry him. She’d brushed him off with a laugh.

She hadn’t known then that he’d been sincere.

The very next day, he’d called upon her with a bouquet of roses, and repeated his proposal, right in the presence of Aunt Agatha, too, who had been snoring in the armchair by the window.

She’d brushed him off once more, and sent him to Algie, reminding him that he had to first acquire her brother’s permission to court her.

She’d hoped that having to do so would have deterred him, for it had deterred many suitors in the past. It was surprising how many men had slunk away and were never seen again as soon as she’d uttered those words.

Not that she’d minded; but it had always irked her somewhat.

To her surprise, Algie had told her the next day, at breakfast, that Linwood had called on him, requesting his permission to court her. Algie had sent him right back to his sister, saying that it all depended on her, and that she did not need his permission.

“I’ve never seen a man so terrified,” Algie had grumbled. “And I’ve seen my share of terrified men. Do him a favour and accept his suit before he dies of terror.”

Isla had dropped her spoon. “Never say you look favourably on his suit.”

“Of course I do. One of us must marry, and it had better be you. Linwood’s a ninny, but he’s of good stock. He’ll suit you well,” Algie had said before he’d buried himself in his newspaper.

Since then, Linwood had shown up with a persistence that had been nothing short of remarkable. He’d ended each visit with a proposal, which she’d turned down firmly, but politely, and always with a twinge of conscience upon seeing his downcast face.

Thirty-five proposals.

This was the thirty-sixth.

Isla furrowed her brow. Her hand froze on the door. Her thoughts raced. Then, before she could change her mind, the words were out: “Very well, then. Yes.”

“Because you would make me the happiest of—” He interrupted himself. “What did you say?”

An involuntary smile crossed her face at the utterly flabbergasted expression on his. “I said yes. I will marry you, Lord Linwood.”

His jaw dropped. “T-truly?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You did mean it, did you not? Your proposal. Was it sincere?”

“I am—Of course—Yes! But—You said yes? You will truly marry me?” He stepped forward, stumbled over a low stool that was in his path, and gripped the back of the armchair to steady himself.

“That is what I said.” Isla nodded. “As of now, we are betrothed.”

Then she saw something rather astonishing.

Lord Linwood smiled.

It was an authentic smile that lit up his eyes deeply from within, as though the sun of Spain was rising over a barren field. His dark eyes lit up and glowed. And two delicious little dents formed on his cheeks, one to either side of his mouth.

Isla stared at him, speechless.

The man, truly, had dimples! It was almost outrageous how adorable he suddenly looked.

“I am—” He was visibly searching for words. “Happy.” He finally settled on one. “I am so happy. Truly happy,” he stammered, entirely incapable of finding a different kind of word that expressed the same sentiment.

That drew an authentic smile from Isla. “I am, too,” she said softly.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t even a lie.

He raised his hands to his head, as if he still could not believe his luck, took a few steps forward, then back again, took off his spectacles and then put them back on again with a flurried movement.

“What happens now? What to do? The banns. The trousseau. The church. A wedding date. The settlement. So many things.” He looked at her with round eyes. “Your brother!”

Isla nodded. “I daresay the next step is to inform my brother. And then to settle on a date. Shall we agree, uh, half a year hence?” That was long enough for either of them to change their minds, Isla reasoned.

“Half a year? But that is far too long.” Linwood shook his head. “Must we wait that long?”

“Oh, very well. Five months?”

“Two months?”

Isla shook her head. “Three.”

Linwood’s countenance fell.

“And you need not worry about the trousseau. Usually, the bride takes care of that,” she added quickly. “But for now, you must talk to my brother.”

He nodded. “Your brother, then. Must talk to your brother. At once.” He jammed his hat on his head and rushed to the door. He stopped, returned, bowed. “I shall return,” he promised, bowed again, then left for good.

Isla shook her head as she watched him rush out of the house.

“Isla.” A thin voice sounded behind her. Isla turned. Aunt Agatha had finally come down the stairs, leaning on a footman’s arm, a tad too late. “I was told my presence as a chaperone was needed.”

“It is kind of you, Aunt, but that is no longer necessary.”

Her aunt nodded. “In that case, I shall return to my nap.”

“Aunt, I am to marry Lord Thaddaeus Linwood,” Isla said. “You are the first to know.”

Her aunt nodded, entirely unsurprised. “That is excellent, child. Do you love him?”

That took the wind out of Isla’s sails. “Love?”

“Well, yes.” Aunt Agatha looked at her with unaccustomed sharpness in her eyes. “You wouldn’t want to marry a man you don’t love.”

Isla spluttered. “I—er—I believe it shall not be difficult.” She cleared her throat. “He has a very lovable character.” That, at least, was true.

Her aunt nodded again. “Love is all that matters. Regardless of what they say. Do not settle for anything less than that.”

Isla watched silently as her aunt, with the help of the footman, resumed her slow climb up the stairs back to her room.

Maybe Isla had committed a folly, accepting Linwood’s proposal like that.

But, oddly enough, she didn’t regret her impulsive decision one bit.

It would be exceedingly advantageous to have a man to whom one was engaged, Isla mused. Particularly Linwood, who would attend to her every whim. He would be entirely at her bidding, which would be most convenient.

She could always break it off later. And even if she did not, it might not be so dreadful to be married to Linwood.

He would be ever at her beck and call, and there was something to be said for being wed to a man who all but carried one on his hands.

By consenting to this engagement, she had bargained herself a measure of freedom, however modest it might be.

Algie would be lulled into believing she was well taken care of, while Linwood, blissfully unaware, would become her unwitting ally, protecting her, accompanying her in public, in the search for the Lord of the Underworld. And no one would bat an eyelid.

Isla rubbed her hands.

It was an excellent plan, indeed.