Read Online The Birthday Scandal by Leigh Michaels - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leigh Michaels
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same!”
“Who’s to know it wasn’t the other way around and the idea was Uncle Josiah’s to start? Now that he’s met his heir…” Emily gave a delicate little shiver. “Did you know when the solicitors found him he was working in a farm field?”
Isabel studied her sister’s refection in the dressing table mirror. “I quite like him. He has rough edges, of course, but Uncle Josiah has a few of those himself. Athstone may grow into the role.”
Emily sniffed, set the hairbrush down, and began to braid.
“What did he do to annoy you so, Emily?”
“He left his doxy tucked away at the inn.” Emily tugged a strand painfully tight, and Isabel protested. “I’m sorry—I forgot your head. You hadn’t come in yet when he told Uncle Josiah that his mistress is waiting in the village.”
“He said as much?”
Emily nodded.
Isabel would have been amused if not for the over-enthusiastic braiding. “Then I would wager there is not a bird of paradise at the inn. It was not well-done of him, of course, to try to gammon Uncle Josiah like that.”
“You didn’t hear him, Isabel.”
“And you’re used to thinking the worst of any man. It’s true that Cousin Gavin is out of his element. But if he were to marry well—”
The heavy tresses slipped through Emily’s fingers and spilled over Isabel’s shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice. “ That’s the answer! All we have to do is wave a future duke under Sir George Fletcher’s nose. Hint that his daughter might end up a duchess, and he’ll soon put paid to Father’s notions of marrying her. Think about it, Isabel—we can put a pin in Father’s plans and get Gavin Waring settled all in one swoop!”
Isabel laughed. It was the first time she’d felt like doing so since she’d walked into the drawing room that afternoon and found her husband waiting.
By the time Emily left, Isabel was feeling the tight braid more than the residue of her headache, so she released the ribbon and let her hair flow free. By the time she’d unwrapped the last twist, she was even pleasantly sleepy—too much so to bother to do it up again. She climbed into the big bed, blew out her candle, and snuggled under the heavy wool blanket. But a moment later her eyes snapped open and her gaze focused on the door that connected her bedroom and the adjoining one. The room that the Earl of Maxwell would occupy.
Surely he wouldn’t dare to simply open that door and walk through. Surely he wouldn’t assume that just because he’d offered a bargain she had agreed to it. And surely he wouldn’t break the uneasy truce that had lain between them for more than a year, just because he’d suddenly decided his wife should carry out her duties.
But if he did, Isabel knew, he would be completely within his rights under the law.
She slid out of bed and tiptoed across to the door. He wouldn’t be in his room yet, of course. Knowing that the ladies were not waiting in the drawing room, the gentlemen would linger long into the night, drinking port and smoking cigars and swapping stories. She was perfectly safe—and quite sensible to turn the key in the lock, just in case there had been even more port than usual.
But the key was not in the lock.
Very slowly and quietly, she turned the knob. Reaching around the edge of the door, she felt carefully for the lock, hoping to touch the rounded handle of a big brass key.
Just as she realized it wasn’t on that side, either, the Earl of Maxwell spoke from the quiet room. “How wise of me to pocket the key earlier—for if you were to lock me out, Isabel, I would break down the door, and I cannot think your uncle would appreciate having his castle damaged.”
He rose from his chair by the fire. He seemed taller than ever as he crossed the darkened room, his body a silhouette against the moonlight that poured in through the tall windows behind him. He must have come upstairs some time ago, for he was no longer in evening clothes but
“Who’s to know it wasn’t the other way around and the idea was Uncle Josiah’s to start? Now that he’s met his heir…” Emily gave a delicate little shiver. “Did you know when the solicitors found him he was working in a farm field?”
Isabel studied her sister’s refection in the dressing table mirror. “I quite like him. He has rough edges, of course, but Uncle Josiah has a few of those himself. Athstone may grow into the role.”
Emily sniffed, set the hairbrush down, and began to braid.
“What did he do to annoy you so, Emily?”
“He left his doxy tucked away at the inn.” Emily tugged a strand painfully tight, and Isabel protested. “I’m sorry—I forgot your head. You hadn’t come in yet when he told Uncle Josiah that his mistress is waiting in the village.”
“He said as much?”
Emily nodded.
Isabel would have been amused if not for the over-enthusiastic braiding. “Then I would wager there is not a bird of paradise at the inn. It was not well-done of him, of course, to try to gammon Uncle Josiah like that.”
“You didn’t hear him, Isabel.”
“And you’re used to thinking the worst of any man. It’s true that Cousin Gavin is out of his element. But if he were to marry well—”
The heavy tresses slipped through Emily’s fingers and spilled over Isabel’s shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice. “ That’s the answer! All we have to do is wave a future duke under Sir George Fletcher’s nose. Hint that his daughter might end up a duchess, and he’ll soon put paid to Father’s notions of marrying her. Think about it, Isabel—we can put a pin in Father’s plans and get Gavin Waring settled all in one swoop!”
Isabel laughed. It was the first time she’d felt like doing so since she’d walked into the drawing room that afternoon and found her husband waiting.
By the time Emily left, Isabel was feeling the tight braid more than the residue of her headache, so she released the ribbon and let her hair flow free. By the time she’d unwrapped the last twist, she was even pleasantly sleepy—too much so to bother to do it up again. She climbed into the big bed, blew out her candle, and snuggled under the heavy wool blanket. But a moment later her eyes snapped open and her gaze focused on the door that connected her bedroom and the adjoining one. The room that the Earl of Maxwell would occupy.
Surely he wouldn’t dare to simply open that door and walk through. Surely he wouldn’t assume that just because he’d offered a bargain she had agreed to it. And surely he wouldn’t break the uneasy truce that had lain between them for more than a year, just because he’d suddenly decided his wife should carry out her duties.
But if he did, Isabel knew, he would be completely within his rights under the law.
She slid out of bed and tiptoed across to the door. He wouldn’t be in his room yet, of course. Knowing that the ladies were not waiting in the drawing room, the gentlemen would linger long into the night, drinking port and smoking cigars and swapping stories. She was perfectly safe—and quite sensible to turn the key in the lock, just in case there had been even more port than usual.
But the key was not in the lock.
Very slowly and quietly, she turned the knob. Reaching around the edge of the door, she felt carefully for the lock, hoping to touch the rounded handle of a big brass key.
Just as she realized it wasn’t on that side, either, the Earl of Maxwell spoke from the quiet room. “How wise of me to pocket the key earlier—for if you were to lock me out, Isabel, I would break down the door, and I cannot think your uncle would appreciate having his castle damaged.”
He rose from his chair by the fire. He seemed taller than ever as he crossed the darkened room, his body a silhouette against the moonlight that poured in through the tall windows behind him. He must have come upstairs some time ago, for he was no longer in evening clothes but
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