The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 19

19

R egardless of how much she wanted to race back to England, Isabella didn’t leave Georgia right away. No matter what her heart told her, over and over again, she had thought about her last weeks aboard the Prosperity and had no idea if Gibb MacGalloway might desire to take up where they left off or not. It wasn’t as though the captain had given her any indication that he might one day entertain the idea of marriage. In fact, he had been clear about being married to the sea and most passionate about never taking a wife.

His words, “I’ve known many married seamen, and not a one was happy,” repeated in her thoughts time and time again.

Though once Isabella allowed herself to feel strongly about anything, she wasn’t keen to let it lie. Her will had a way of making her do things she didn’t necessarily agree with. Well, she agreed, because it was her will . It was just that society always had different ideas, and she oft found herself pulled in one direction while yearning to go in the other.

However, since Captain MacGalloway had escorted her off the ship, delivered her into the hands of Mr. Schuyler, and sailed away from Savannah and America, she could come up with no logical excuse to flee immediately following Arent’s funeral—at least not after Mr. Booker had explained the particulars of her inheritance.

The details had all been incredibly overwhelming, from the mansion in Lockhart, to the mine, to the town house Arent kept in Savannah. Then there were his numerous bank accounts, including money held in England, France, and Italy, all amounting to a blindingly large fortune. The man could have married a princess if he so desired, but according to Mr. Booker, Arent Schuyler had no intention of ever leaving Georgia. It wasn’t until the doctor told him his heart was failing that he realized he’d best marry. Though he didn’t seek out a princess, he also did not want to settle for a colonial woman. His dream had always been to wed an English rose.

In short, there was a great deal to set to rights, and she felt responsible to do so. Isabella had remained in Lockhart while Mr. Booker gave her a detailed overview of the inner workings of the entire estate, from the lowest scullery maid to the mine’s overseer, and finally explained his own compensation.

Two months and three days after she had taken her vows, Isabella devised a plan. She’d knocked on Mr. Booker’s office door and presented him with the details of how she wanted the estate to be managed. Because the lawman had been forthright and honest with her when he could have lied, falsifying documents and keeping everything for himself, she realized that Arent could not have chosen a more suitable successor to run his affairs.

After all the legal agreements had been completed, she sailed to London, having appointed Mr. Booker as the president and partial owner of the Schuyler mine. She had planned to give him a controlling interest, but he once more had proven to be honest to the detriment of his own fortune. His advice was for Isabella to retain a majority ownership in the mine, thus making her wealthy beyond her dreams.

Of course, it didn’t take long for her to realize living in a remote area of northeastern Georgia wasn’t the life for her. And though she told Maribel she wished to return home, Isabella hoped that by returning to England, and especially London when the Season was to be in full swing, she might happen upon Lord Gibb MacGalloway—or at least a member of his family.

Isabella decided against first stopping in West Sussex to call on her father. Papa’s house was no longer her home , and in truth, she wasn’t especially anxious to see her father, or to let him know she was back in the kingdom for that matter. Her whereabouts were no longer her father’s concern, just as her fortune was most decidedly not his concern.

One day soon I’ll write to him. Just not yet.

Today, Isabella sat in the parlor of the suite of rooms she had let at Lady Blanche’s Boarding House in the center of Mayfair. Her Ladyship catered only to affluent women, and had very strict rules prohibiting men on the premises. This suited Isabella ideally, at least for the time being. She was highly doubtful that she would settle in London, and it seemed a bit excessive to rent an entire town house and bring on a great number of servants when one was searching for a sea captain.

Maribel appeared with a tea service. “Shall I pour, miss?”

Isabella gestured to the seat across. “Please do. Will you join me?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Why? You never join me, and after all that we’ve been through together, I believe it is high time that you did.”

“No, Miss Isabella. I am a servant. I mustn’t become accustomed to being treated equally with ladies of quality.”

“Balderdash.” Isabella thrust her finger at the chair. “I insist that you join me.”

“Perhaps this once.” Maribel dropped to her seat and pushed the Gazette forward. “I thought you would want to read the newspaper straight away.”

“Thank you.” Isabella reached for it, noting the headline as she took it into her hand: Brother of the Duke of Dunscaby Engaged .

Her face grew hot, her hands trembled, and her stomach shrank into a tiny ball as she forced herself to read the next line: The match of the Season has been announced, subverting what might have been a disgraceful scandal. The editor of the Gazette has received a firsthand account that whilst attending the Dowager Duchess of Dunscaby’s birthday celebration, Miss Eugenia Radcliffe was discovered in the embrace of none other than Lord Gibb MacGalloway…

Hardly able to breathe, Isabella folded the paper and set it aside. She didn’t want to read another word.

Maribel finished pouring and looked up, teapot in hand. “Goodness, are you unwell? You suddenly look awfully pale.”

“I am quite well,” Isabella said, taking her cup and sipping while inside she grew hotter than the steamy liquid. She couldn’t tell Maribel about the news article, and thank goodness the maid didn’t read. “However…”

“Hmm?” Maribel asked, replacing the pot on the tray.

“I’ve suddenly realized that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing in London.”

“I thought we were here because it is the Season. And since you are an heiress, this is the best place for you to find a match.”

Well, yes, that was the story Isabella had given just about everyone, including her lady’s maid. But there was only one match that interested her, and it seemed the gentleman in question had wasted no time in moving on.

“Who am I fooling?” Isabella added a bit of extra milk to her tea. “I failed miserably to find a husband when I came out, and now I am too old and too seasoned for anyone to find me appealing.”

“I disagree. You are lovely, and anyone who doesn’t see it is blind. Even Mr. Erskine commented on how comely you are.”

Isabella picked up her cup and saucer, not believing a word. “Oh, did he?”

“Yes, most definitely. And do not forget Captain MacGalloway. He’s such a handsome man, and he spent hour upon hour helping you piece together your tablets. I know it is not my place to say so, but I do think he was quite fond of you. Quite fond.”

If the color had drained from her face before, Isabella imagined she had now completely blanched. Rumors had always been to steer clear of sailors, and now she knew why. The louts had wandering hearts. Why was it that every man in her life abandoned her? And why, in all that was holy, did she believe she needed any man at all?

“I think it is time to spread our wings. And in order to do so, one most definitely does not need a husband,” Isabella said, diverting the subject elsewhere because she didn’t want to hear another word about the Prosperity or any member of the vile captain’s crew. Besides, she had another idea—one she should have acted upon years ago. “Maribel, since you are so reluctant to join me for tea, I hereby promote you to companion.”

“Madam?”

“You’ve been acting as my companion for years, have you not?”

Maribel’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes, I suppose I have, though aside from accompanying you to America and back, I have merely performed the role of lady’s maid.”

“Well, things change, and you have proven to be not only an exemplary lady’s maid, but a trusted companion.”

A bit dazed, Maribel sat back. “Thank you.”

“That said, as soon as you finish your tea, please begin packing our things. I have decided we’ve been in London long enough.”

“But it has only been a matter of weeks. And did you not tell me you had compiled a list of old friends upon whom you wanted to call whilst in Town?”

“I suppose they may as well remain old friends a bit longer.” Isabella pushed to her feet. “I must settle my account with Lady Blanche straight away.”