Chapter 9
Nine
Isabelle leaned across Victoria, looking out the window as they left the main road and traveled along a winding one, the rain lashing down against the glass.
The heavy drops thundered against the top of the carriage, and she was certain the poor driver was soaked.
She squinted to see through the drops that fell.
On top of the hill was a stone house that looked like it belonged in the south of France, although Isabelle didn’t know for certain.
She had only seen paintings of France, but she longed to go there.
Perhaps I can travel across Europe instead of returning to America without a husband.
Though she wished that was a possibility, she doubted that her father would allow it.
He was far more likely to want her home where he could watch her turn into an old spinster.
It was only because he cared for her that he wanted to keep her close, but she longed for adventure of some kind.
Even if that was to spend the rest of her life in England on a farm, married to the man who offered the Duke of Windham the most money.
Victoria leaned over beside her. “We shall be there soon. Lord Milton has always been a most welcoming host, and he is sure to take a liking to you.”
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “I wish that he would not. I am not searching for a husband and there is no need to think that this will be an arrangement for me to find one.”
Windham nodded, leaning against the cushion across the carriage from them. “Milton will not be searching for a wife from you, Miss Alden, or any of my sisters. He has made it quite well known that he would rather spend his life as a bachelor than a married man.”
Victoria sighed and slumped against her seat. “Still, we can hope that he will see Isabelle and fall for her quick mind. She is quite skilled at arguing, as is he. I rather think they would take a liking to each other.”
“It will not happen. Milton will be perfectly friendly, but he will not seek anything beyond friendship.”
Isabelle let out a sigh of relief as she got comfortable in her seat once more. “Good.”
Windham arched an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. “You will have no need to scare him away, Miss Alden. He is nothing like Lord Townshend.”
“You have said that Lord Milton has no use for marriage so I suspect the two of us will have little problem enjoying each other’s company.”
The carriage pulled to a stop and the door swung open to the pouring rain.
Windham was the first to leave the carriage, stepping down before turning back and holding out a hand to help Victoria.
She took it with a light squeal as the rain pelted her back before she gathered her skirts and dashed toward the archway.
“Miss Alden.” Windham held out his hand.
Isabelle stood taller and gathered her skirts, ignoring the hand presented to her as she stepped out of the carriage. She couldn’t risk another touch. She didn’t wish to feel the flutters deep in her stomach or to remember the way his callouses felt when the scraped against her palm.
Her foot nearly caught on the step, but she steadied herself and kept her head held high.
The rain pelted the side of her face, soaking her hair through and sticking long strands to the back of her neck.
The icy water seeped through her dress, creating a chill that seemed to sink to her bones as the wind howled around her.
Victoria laughed as Isabelle joined her beneath the arch outside the home. “Is there a problem between you and Felix that I should be aware of?”
“None.” Isabelle smiled and dropped her skirts as Windham joined them. She leaned closer to Victoria. “He once compared me to an old goose and I have yet to decide if I am going to forgive him or not.”
“You should draw out his torture for a little longer. I am certain by the end of our time with Lord Milton, Felix will be begging for your forgiveness, and he shall promise never to call you an old goose again.”
Isabelle bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a laugh as the white door swung open and a man stepped to the side with a low bow. Windham led their way into the house, stopping in the entryway as a young man made his way down a curving staircase.
“Windham, I have not seen you in months!” the man exclaimed, grinning as he reached the bottom step.
Windham stepped forward, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Milton. I would think that you have been in hiding from the mothers and their daughters.”
“Not yet.” Lord Milton looked at Isabelle and Victoria. “And who may I ask have you brought with you?”
“Milton, this is my sister, Lady Victoria and my charge, Miss Isabelle Alden, daughter of the Baron of Elington.”
Those familiar butterflies returned to her stomach at the sound of Windham’s smooth voice saying her name. She had yet to hear it from his lips and now that she had, she didn’t know if she could return to simply being Miss Alden.
As Lord Milton bowed to Victoria, Isabelle tried to force the thoughts from her mind.
She knew that it was nothing more than a fleeting notion and one that could easily be put to rest. While Duke Windham had shown her kindness, he remained nothing more than her host and the man who sought to marry her off to the highest bidder.
She would be a fool to forget his true intentions, even if in this estate she was safe from his trifling.
Lord Milton turned his gaze to Isabelle, bowing low. “Miss Alden, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said with a smile and a slight bob of her head. “Thank you for opening your home to us, Lord Milton. It is quite beautiful. Did you have it built in the French style?”
He beamed and nodded. “I did. Are you fond of French architecture?”
“Of what little I have seen in paintings, yes.” Isabelle beamed and followed him from the room as the others trailed behind her. “I wish to go to France one day. There is something spectacular about the palaces which I think the English have yet to replicate.”
Lord Milton laughed and looked over his shoulder at the duke. “An American? If I had known that you were allowing such a charming woman to spend time at your estate I would have called on you just to hear the accent. It is wonderful.”
Isabelle blushed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the man’s dramatics. “I assure you the accent is nothing special where I live.”
“And yet you are quite rare here.”
“I would think that something so rare would be something someone would desire to keep in a cage.” Isabelle smirked at him as he looked down at her, leading them through the house to a little parlor bathed in sunlight.
Lord Milton chuckled and leaned against the doorframe. “I should think so.”
“And would you cage a rare bird, Lord Milton?”
“Miss Alden!” Windham scolded, stepping forward and placing himself between Lord Milton and Isabelle.
She glowered at his back as he clasped his hands together in front of him.
“I should apologize for her. It has been a long day of traveling and with our clothing soaked through, I suspect we are all not our best selves.”
“How could I have forgotten?” Lord Milton waved a hand, and several maids stepped forward. “Show Windham and his family to their rooms. Put Miss Alden in the room with the view of the lake. I suspect she will find the French decorations in that room quite charming.”
Isabelle fought a smug smirk as she passed Felix and followed behind one of the maids. It seemed that his friend was not as scandalized by her words as he would have preferred.
The maid led her up the winding staircase and down the hall to the east wing. Isabelle was thrilled that she would be able to watch the sunrise shine through her window in the morning. Barking filled the hall as her puppy, Rose, fell into step beside her.
The maid paused and looked at the dog, her lips pressed silently into a thin line. She pushed open the towering white double doors to reveal a room with a bed larger than any Isabelle had ever seen.
Rose took off with a yip, racing for the bed and jumping on it before settling herself amongst the pillows. Isabelle giggled and rushed into the room, turning before falling backwards onto the bed. The soft down mattress enveloped her like a warm hug as she stared up at its gauzy canopy.
As the maid stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her, Isabelle took in the white wallpaper covered in sage green vines and dusty pink roses.
It was far more ornate than how her father had decorated their home.
The pale pinks and greens, paired with the white furniture, complimented the room beautifully.
She silently reminded herself to commend Lord Milton on his impeccable taste when she went down for supper.
Windham was likely to have a vein throbbing in his forehead if she were to call it out of fashion. Though she would never insult her host or lie about the beautiful wallpaper, the thought of getting beneath the duke’s skin had a certain appeal.
Part of her wished to unsettle him as much as he had unsettled her when they had been dancing only a few days ago. She knew it was wrong to tease the man, but it was one of the few things that had truly brought her joy since arriving in England.
She sighed and opened the doors to the terrace that overlooked the gardens. They were blossoming with bright flowers despite the rain that continued to pound down. Isabelle stood in the rain for just a moment, letting it wash against her skin until she felt refreshed.
As she stepped back into the room, she wished that she could spend the rest of the day running through the gardens or getting lost in a book. The last thing she wanted to do after hours of travel was get dressed in her best and go down for supper.
Still, a knock at the door let her know that her trunk had arrived. The door opened and two porters stepped in, setting the trunk on the floor before leaving the room once more. A different maid entered. She wore a cheery smile and was younger than the last, close to Isabelle’s age.
“Hello, Miss Alden.” The maid offered a quick curtsy before hurrying over to the trunk and kneeling to open it. “Is there a specific dress you would like to wear for supper this evening?”
“None. Please choose what you think will suit best.” Isabelle locked the doors behind her and crossed the room to stand before the trunk. “What is your name?”
“Maggie, Miss.”
There was a part of her that thought it would be much nicer to spend the rest of her time in England living as the common folk did. She could spend the rest of her days without the titles. There would be no need for balls or insipid dancing.
Duke Windham would likely die if she suggested such a thing.
The Dowager Duchess would surely put her on the first ship back to America. It would be a joy to see the look on her face, but the thought of returning home was enough to make Isabelle banish the idea.
Maggie pulled out a lilac dress and held it up. “This will suit you nicely, don’t you think, Miss?”
“It should be just fine.”
Isabelle turned her back, prepared for the monotony of getting ready for yet another event with a man she had no intention of marrying.