enough for any man to be buried in."
That did it.
"Enough—all of you!" Isobel jerked from her sister's embrace and planted herself squarely in front of her father. She spoke very slowly. "You will tell me now, exactly what Lord Oriel demands. Is he looking for a bedmate?"
"Isobel!"
"Shh, Maggie. Well, Papa?"
Jamie shook his head. "What else am I to think, Izzy? Damned cool bugger. He claimed to want you as his secretary."
"Was there more?"
Now her father looked surprised. "Isn't that enough? His secretary.
Hah!"
"Answer me. Was there more?"
"To be sure there was. Wants you to live at the Hall, he does. A full time employ, he called it." Jamie gave a halfhearted wave in his son's direction.
"Gloves, Geordie!"
Isobel grabbed his hand. "And if I go, what do you get?" Her father stared at her blankly for a moment before his eyes sharpened. It was an expression part hopeful and part wounded. "Tell me. Do we get to keep the house?"
"Aye."
"And he would pay me your wages?"
"Aye. That, too."
Maggie's fingers clenched over hers. "Isobel, you cannot."
"You're wrong, Mairghread Líl. I can." Turning her back to her father and brothers, Isobel touched Maggie's cheek. "I do not believe he will ask anything truly ill of me."
"How can you know that?"
"Ah, well I cannot. But I can believe. And hope, You will help me pack, won't you?"
Their eyes met, Maggie's concerned and loving, Isobel's as certain as she could manage. "Aye," Maggie said after a long moment. "I will. And I'm coming with you."
"So am I! I'll plant him a facer he'll feel for weeks!" Tessa's voice came clearly through the keyhole.
Isobel spun back to face the door. Somehow, in the midst of it all, she found the ability to laugh. "You'll do no such thing, either of you. It's my affair, and I'll see to it."
Minutes later, a reluctant Tessa dispatched upstairs to search for a valise, Isobel rounded on her father again. "I understand that you're a bit unclear as to my end of the bargain, but I suggest you inform us of his in complete detail." She shoved trembling hands into her apron pockets. "If we're to accept his lordship's generosity, this time I, for one, would like to know precisely what you're to get."
"Izzy." Jamie struggled from his seat. "I don't think—"
"Nay You don't." She struggled to soften her words with a faint smile.
"You dream. I suppose 'tis your legacy to all of us. We hope for the best."
Hoping for the best was all well and good, she decided as she walked away from the cottage several hours later, valise in hand. Expecting it, however, was dangerous. All things considered, perhaps her future was not so uncertain. There was no doubt in her mind that Lord Oriel would be perfectly clear on what he wanted from her; there would be no need for any expectations at all.
Behind her, she could feel Maggie's eyes, no doubt worried and grim.
Somewhere behind her sister, the men's eyes, Isobel was sure, were beginning to glaze with drink. Disaster averted was the best excuse they had had for celebration in months.
CHAPTER 5
It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and untruth together, in few words, than in that speech: "Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god."
—Francis Bacon
Isobel stood in front of the Hall's massive doors and knocked again. She had been pounding the bronze knocker for a good five minutes. Already nervous, she felt very small and thoroughly insignificant as she waited to be admitted, rather like a poor and unwanted relative. It did not improve matters that the knocker itself, designed to look like the face of a satyr, leered at her.
The possibility of turning around and heading straight back home was tempting. Of course she would do no such thing. The marquess had agreed to accept her in her father's stead, and the least she could do was to speak with him.
It would help a great deal if someone would let her into the house.
Her ears were ringing from the steady
That did it.
"Enough—all of you!" Isobel jerked from her sister's embrace and planted herself squarely in front of her father. She spoke very slowly. "You will tell me now, exactly what Lord Oriel demands. Is he looking for a bedmate?"
"Isobel!"
"Shh, Maggie. Well, Papa?"
Jamie shook his head. "What else am I to think, Izzy? Damned cool bugger. He claimed to want you as his secretary."
"Was there more?"
Now her father looked surprised. "Isn't that enough? His secretary.
Hah!"
"Answer me. Was there more?"
"To be sure there was. Wants you to live at the Hall, he does. A full time employ, he called it." Jamie gave a halfhearted wave in his son's direction.
"Gloves, Geordie!"
Isobel grabbed his hand. "And if I go, what do you get?" Her father stared at her blankly for a moment before his eyes sharpened. It was an expression part hopeful and part wounded. "Tell me. Do we get to keep the house?"
"Aye."
"And he would pay me your wages?"
"Aye. That, too."
Maggie's fingers clenched over hers. "Isobel, you cannot."
"You're wrong, Mairghread Líl. I can." Turning her back to her father and brothers, Isobel touched Maggie's cheek. "I do not believe he will ask anything truly ill of me."
"How can you know that?"
"Ah, well I cannot. But I can believe. And hope, You will help me pack, won't you?"
Their eyes met, Maggie's concerned and loving, Isobel's as certain as she could manage. "Aye," Maggie said after a long moment. "I will. And I'm coming with you."
"So am I! I'll plant him a facer he'll feel for weeks!" Tessa's voice came clearly through the keyhole.
Isobel spun back to face the door. Somehow, in the midst of it all, she found the ability to laugh. "You'll do no such thing, either of you. It's my affair, and I'll see to it."
Minutes later, a reluctant Tessa dispatched upstairs to search for a valise, Isobel rounded on her father again. "I understand that you're a bit unclear as to my end of the bargain, but I suggest you inform us of his in complete detail." She shoved trembling hands into her apron pockets. "If we're to accept his lordship's generosity, this time I, for one, would like to know precisely what you're to get."
"Izzy." Jamie struggled from his seat. "I don't think—"
"Nay You don't." She struggled to soften her words with a faint smile.
"You dream. I suppose 'tis your legacy to all of us. We hope for the best."
Hoping for the best was all well and good, she decided as she walked away from the cottage several hours later, valise in hand. Expecting it, however, was dangerous. All things considered, perhaps her future was not so uncertain. There was no doubt in her mind that Lord Oriel would be perfectly clear on what he wanted from her; there would be no need for any expectations at all.
Behind her, she could feel Maggie's eyes, no doubt worried and grim.
Somewhere behind her sister, the men's eyes, Isobel was sure, were beginning to glaze with drink. Disaster averted was the best excuse they had had for celebration in months.
CHAPTER 5
It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and untruth together, in few words, than in that speech: "Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god."
—Francis Bacon
Isobel stood in front of the Hall's massive doors and knocked again. She had been pounding the bronze knocker for a good five minutes. Already nervous, she felt very small and thoroughly insignificant as she waited to be admitted, rather like a poor and unwanted relative. It did not improve matters that the knocker itself, designed to look like the face of a satyr, leered at her.
The possibility of turning around and heading straight back home was tempting. Of course she would do no such thing. The marquess had agreed to accept her in her father's stead, and the least she could do was to speak with him.
It would help a great deal if someone would let her into the house.
Her ears were ringing from the steady
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