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

Chapter Four

“You did what?”

Lady Catherine Redgrave, widow of the late Marquess of Redgrave, set aside the silver pincers she had been using to shape her brows into a fine, elegant arch and turned to stare at Isla.

Draped in a pale pink satin negligee, Catherine had been in the midst of her morning toilette when Isla had announced herself.

But as bosom friends, they had long dispensed with formality, and Isla knew Catherine was best approached at this hour before she began her visiting rounds about town.

Isla tugged at the lace fichu at her throat, as if to compose herself, succeeding only in making it more askew.

“I said,” she repeated, “I have at last accepted Lord Thaddaeus Linwood’s proposal.”

Catherine’s brows, one perfectly shaped and the other yet unfinished, drew together. “But my friend. My dear, dear friend.” She let out a slow breath. “Why?”

Isla crossed the room and sank onto the settee by the window. “Three reasons. No—four.” She lifted a hand, fingers poised to count them off.

“Firstly, because it will be convenient to have a gentleman at my side during my inquiries.” Catherine, of course, knew of her efforts to locate Jem.

“He lends me a measure of propriety. A lady alone in the less reputable quarters of London invites speculation, perhaps even censure. But a lady accompanied by the man she is to marry? That raises fewer brows. People may still take note, but it places a veil of respectability over the matter, enough to divert attention from Lady Isla and her so-called eccentricities.”

Catherine studied her with a critical eye. “And the second reason?”

“Safety. On my last visit to the rookery, Meggie and I were attacked.” Isla folded her hands primly in her lap, as if that might somehow diminish the gravity of the admission. It did not.

“I have thought more than once that it would be wise to have a male accomplice, so to speak, someone whose mere presence might deter petty pickpockets and, more importantly, assaults. I am a wretched shot.” She made a mental note to inquire whether Linwood had any proficiency with a pistol.

“Linwood, while not precisely a Corinthian, knows a thing or two about boxing. He mentioned training with Jackson. I do not think he is a heavyweight, but,” she lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, “it may prove useful one day.”

Catherine eyed her shrewdly. “And why not take a footman along? Or two, for that matter? ”

“For a very simple reason,” Isla explained patiently. “Every last one of my brother’s servants, save for Meggie, reports anything I do or say directly to Algie. That simply will not do.”

She hesitated just a moment before pressing on. “Which brings me to my third reason: Algie himself. Thus far, he has been remarkably patient and even, dare I say it, supportive of my efforts.”

Catherine nodded. “He truly is a saint of a brother. I cannot think of another man who would turn a blind eye to his sister’s highly eccentric, if not outright reckless, escapades.

” Her gaze sharpened. “You do realise, do you not, that you are not only endangering yourself but also him? With every one of your excursions, you risk his reputation.”

“I know.” Isla bit her lip.

Catherine leaned back, her expression turning contemplative. “You really do have a wonderful brother.”

“I do.” Isla seized the opportunity to heap further praise. “He is wonderful, understanding, and caring. The best brother a person could wish for.”

Catherine’s only response was a knowing glance.

Undeterred, Isla pressed on. “But that, you see, is precisely the issue. After what happened the other day, Algie’s patience has reached its limit. He will never say as much, but I can tell. And now, he has begun to speak of marriage.”

Her friend’s head snapped up.

“He very much wishes to see me married,” Isla clarified. “By getting engaged to Linwood, I relieve him of that particular concern. It will allow him to believe that Linwood shall take charge of me now.”

“So you may carry on with your mad schemes undisturbed.”

“Precisely.” Isla smiled.

“And the fourth reason?”

“If I must become engaged,” she said with a careless wave of her hand, “it may as well be Linwood. He is neither the brightest candle nor the quickest wit.”

“Ah. I see. And this, too, is an advantage?” She lifted a fine eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” Isla’s eyes glinted. “A man who does not dazzle with his intellect is unlikely to prove difficult. He will do as I say, and I shall hold the reins in that particular arrangement.”

Catherine’s lips twitched. “How very clever of you.”

“What is more,” Isla continued, warming to the subject, “he is one of those rare men who do not seem to mind when women flout society’s expectations.

Not because he is radical or liberal, but simply because he does not care.

He is far too absorbed in his own world—books and some peculiar interests that no one else follows—to trouble himself over such matters. ”

“That does seem accurate,” Catherine said with a nod. “He is from an excellent family, very respectable, yet he is not much concerned with what others think or do. He is quite singular in his ways.”

“More than that,” Isla mused, “he is entirely indifferent to society’s rigid rules. And do you know why?” She leaned forward slightly. “Because he himself is so different, so removed from the rest. He will never seek to control me.” Her voice softened. “Just as Algie never has.”

Catherine tilted her head. “You almost sound as though you like him.”

“Like?” Isla’s brow furrowed. “Do I like him?” She considered the question with genuine curiosity.

“I certainly do not dislike him. We get along well enough. He is not the most accomplished dancer, but then, neither are many men. He is a bit of a bore and has a tendency to expound at length about his interests,”—she waved a dismissive hand—“which range from geology, clocks and even lepidoptery. But it is not altogether unpleasant to listen to, because some of it is interesting. He is so passionate about his odd little fascinations, it is almost…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Endearing?”

“You do like him.” Catherine’s lips curled into a triumphant smile.

Isla waved a hand dismissively. “I rather think it is the other way around. He has proposed thirty-five times. Or was it thirty-six?”

Catherine’s eyes met Isla’s in a frank gaze. “Never say he is in love with you?”

A faint pink hue crept across Isla’s cheeks. “Nonsense. I simply happen to suit him.”

Catherine let out a “hm,” her expression unreadable. “You have almost convinced me. But tell me, are you truly sincere about this union? Or do you intend to cry off?”

Isla grimaced. “At first, I thought I could always withdraw if it became too tiresome, but I am beginning to suspect it may not be quite so simple.” She gave a small shrug.

“If he proves to be a useful companion, then there is no reason not to proceed. A husband who does not seek to control me might be rather convenient, after all.”

Catherine nearly dropped the hare’s foot she’d picked up earlier. “Your cold-blooded pragmatism almost shocks me.” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Poor Linwood.”

Things developed quickly from then on.

The next day, Algie informed Isla that Linwood had, in a most unorthodox move, appeared in his office at Whitehall, to formally ask for her hand.

He’d specifically made an appointment with his secretary for that purpose.

The wedding was to take place two months hence.

“In two months! Already!” burst from Isla. “Hadn’t we agreed on three?”

“Linwood is quite impatient,” Algie replied with a frown.

“He would have preferred it to take place within a fortnight but accedes to your wishes of waiting longer. Two months was my suggestion. While I am glad that you finally accepted his suit, I hope you did not feel pressured into it based on our conversation the previous day. Why do I have the feeling you accepted his suit so readily simply because I suggested it?”

“Certainly not, brother. I merely thought about it and decided that you were right. One of us ought to marry. Since it’s not you, then it had better be me.” She buttered her roll and bit into it with gusto .

He grunted, and there was a slightly dissatisfied expression on his face.

“And since I am bravely setting an example, it only seems right that you follow suit. I think you should finally talk to Catherine.”

“I did talk to her,” he said, in between two bites of mutton pie.

“I met her in the park yesterday. I said, ‘How do you do, Lady Redgrave?’ and she replied, ‘Very well, thank you, my lord.’ And then I said, ‘Fine weather today, is it not?’ and she said, ‘Truly my lord, it is. Though it looks like it might rain soon. It is a shame I forgot to bring my umbrella.’ Which is a most puzzling utterance if you consider that there was not a cloud in the sky. And she kept her eyes fixed on my umbrella the entire time.” A look of anxiety flitted through his eyes.

“What do you think she might have meant with that? Do you think it might have a hidden message? That possibly she wasn’t so pleased to see me, after all? ”

“Oh, Algie,” Isla groaned, resisting the urge to bang her head against the dining table. “Didn’t you say you brought your umbrella?”

“Of course I did. Just like you, I never leave the house without one, regardless of the weather. But I do not see what that has to do with what Lady Redgrave said.”

Isla sighed. “It was an invitation for you to walk with her in the park.”

His watery blue eyes looked at her helplessly. “This does not make any sense whatsoever.”

“Must I explain it plainly? She said she was concerned about the rain. Never mind whether it was a reasonable concern and whether it really would have rained or not. That is not the issue. But, as a gentleman, you should have offered to walk with her, since you have an umbrella.”

He shook his head. “I still do not follow.”