Engaging Sir Isaac: An Inglewood Romance

by Britton, Sally

She had kissed Millie on the cheek and resumed her escape. Millie had gone looking for the duke’s grandson, hoping he would stop her sister from making a foolish mistake.

  “Are you going to knock, or should I?” Sarah asked.

  Millie shivered. “I will.” She held her fist above her in the air, took in a deep breath, and rapped smartly against the door. Then they both waited. Though only the smallest increments of time passed before the door opened, it felt as though they waited years.

  A young girl in an apron and cap answered. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

  A servant. Of course a servant would answer. What had Millie expected? Emmeline to rush out the door and embrace her?

  She forced a smile. “Hello. I am here to call upon Mrs. Powell. Would you please tell her that Miss Wedgewood is here to see her?”

  The maid did not even blink. She likely did not know her mistress’s maiden name. Why would she? But she stepped back enough to let them into the little corridor. She showed them into a room that faced the road. Sarah took a place near the wall and put her bag down beside her feet.

  Millie drank in every detail of the cozy sitting room, her heart still racing. The room was decorated in soft hues, and the furniture appeared new and comfortable. Everything was clean, and the windows let in a great deal of light.

  The door opened.

  Millie turned, bracing herself, though she knew not for what. Emmeline, the sister she remembered, would immediately wrap her in an embrace. But she had never written. In six years, they’d had no contact at all.

  A woman stood there, her hand over her heart, watching Millie with wide eyes.

  Millie’s heart broke into a thousand pieces as she forgot about her fears, her pain, and stared at her beloved sister. “Emmie.”

  That was all it took to free the dam for both of them. In the next instant, they were in the center of the room, crying and holding each other. Then laughing through their tears. Emmeline was taller, had a more mature figure, and her middle rounded with the promise of a baby. Her eyes were still a clear blue, her hair spun gold, and her smile bright and warm as the sun.

  “Look at you,” Emmie cooed, stepping back at last. She kept Millie’s hands in hers. “Oh, Millie, you are so beautiful.”

  “I am still red-headed and freckled,” Millie countered. “And you are stunning.”

  “Mama?” a voice asked from the doorway. A little boy stood there, no more than four or five years old, shyly looking around the doorframe. He had red hair, and freckles.

  “Oh.” Millie’s eyes filled with tears. “I have a nephew.”

  Emmie laughed and wiped at her cheeks. She went to the door and gently pulled the little boy around it. Then Millie saw the boy held the hand of a little girl, who was the exact image of her mother, only in miniature.

  “And a niece,” Emmie said softly. “Millie, these are my children. This is Aeron and Wren. Sweetlings, this is my sister, your Aunt Millie.”

  Bursting into tears again would likely terrify the children, so Millie gulped back her emotion and smiled warmly at them. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

  It was then that Emmie remembered her place as hostess. She began scurrying about the room, offering Millie a chair, asking the children to sit on the couch. The maid who had answered the door reappeared and took Sarah with her to the kitchen to fetch food and drink. Millie sat quietly, watching her sister, with a sense of familiarity.

  When the burst of energy ended with Emmie sitting between her son and daughter on the sofa, her arms around them, she gave Millie another brilliant smile.

  “I cannot believe you are here. I did not know when I would see you again.” Her smile weakened. “Mother and Father do not know you came, do they?”

  Millie slowly shook her head. “Though they will when my letter reaches them. I was in Suffolk. I found out where you were, and I had to come. Emmie. Why did you not write to me?”

  Emmie’s blue eyes clouded over. “I did. I sent a letter last month.”

  The truth finally hit Millie, hard enough that the breath left her lungs. Her parents—one or both, it did not matter—had kept her sister’s letters from her. Which meant they had always known where Emmie was, but they had never told.

  “My dear Millie, you are so grown up.” Her sister’s words were bright, the message in her expression clear. They had been apart too long. “What were you doing in Suffolk?”

  They talked. About everything. The children eventually left the sofa to play on the floor between the sisters, after dragging a box of wooden animals from beneath a chair. Millie told her sister of London, of her time in Suffolk, though only of the happy moments. Then Emmie spoke of the children, of her life as a solicitor’s wife. Her eyes glowed with life and warmth, especially when she mentioned her husband.

  “Cadoc is a wonderful solicitor, of course, but he is an even better husband and father. He will be home soon, and so glad to see you.”

  “I hope so.” Millie lowered her gaze to her lap. “He has made you very happy.”

  The maid appeared with tea, and she offered to take the children to their dinner. The boy and girl kissed their mother, bowed to Millie, and scampered off to their meal.

  “They are perfect,” Millie said as soon as the door shut behind them.

  Her sister’s eyes glowed with motherly pride. “I certainly think they are. Even when they get into mischief.”

  With the children gone, Millie had to ask the question burning in her mind and heart. Everything depended on her sister’s answer. “Emmie. Are you truly happy? Is your life what you would have it be?” She leaned forward in her chair, clutching her hands together.

  Emmie’s gaze captured Millie’s. The elder sister’s expression softened, and when she spoke it was with great deliberateness. “My life is not perfect, but I am happy, and I find joy in the choice I made. I love my husband. He loves me. Our children bring greater light and love into our marriage. If I went back again, all those years ago, I would choose the same. Always.”

  Millie’s eyes filled with tears, and she thought of Isaac. When he had stood before her, begging her to come away with him, all she could think upon was Emmeline’s choice.

  Before Isaac’s confession, Millie’s thoughts had shaken loose. Shifted. At last, with the evidence of her sister’s happiness before her, surrounded by love, things fell into place.

  “I fear I have made an awful mistake.” Millie hadn’t meant to speak her confession aloud, but she teetered on the edge of her thoughts and a decision.

  “Tell me.” Emmie opened her arms in invitation, and Millie rose from her chair and went to her sister’s embrace. An embrace she had yearned to feel again for six long years. “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter 28

  Two glorious days in the Powell home nearly put Millie to rights. Her heart lightened, and her fears receded in the shelter of her sister’s love. The children did an excellent job of distracting her, too. Millie had started painting their little wooden animals, creating stripes on a horse to turn it into a zebra, and swirls of flowers on a wolf to make Wren love it all the more.

  She sat at the breakfast table the third morning, listening to Cadoc as he teased her sister. Thankfully, even his reception of Millie had been kind. He had immediately called her “little sister” and thanked her for coming at last.

  Millie’s thoughts repeated themselves as she watched him brush a kiss upon Emmie’s cheek when he rose to leave the table. I would have come sooner, had I known what a paradise this place is.

  Amid the turmoil of her mind, of Lady Olivia’s schemes and threats, Millie had found sanctuary. But how long could it last?

  A loud knock at the front door reverberated through the house, causing Cadoc to pause in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at his wife.

  “A bit early for guests, love?” He had a lilt to his voice Millie had always liked, up until the moment he ran away with her sister. She found she rather enjoyed it again.

  �
��A bit. But we do seem to be lucky in our unexpected guests just now.” She smiled warmly at Millie. Cadoc waved the maid away and went to answer the door himself. The house was not especially large, but no one could call it cramped, either. They had a maid, a cook, and a man-of-all-work. Emmie ruled them all with kindness.

  The sound of Cadoc’s greeting traveled back to the ladies, who sat quietly, listening.

  “Please forgive the intrusion. I am Isaac Fox. I was told I might find Miss Wedgewood at this house.”

  Millie covered her mouth and exchanged a look with Emmie. For her part, Emmie’s entire countenance changed, her eyes widening and her mouth parting in a gasp. Millie’s stomach fluttered. Her sister grabbed her hand and tugged her up.

  “Go to him, you ninny,” she whispered, hands on Millie’s shoulders to propel her from the room. “This very moment. Go.”

  Millie’s feet finally caught up with her sister’s commands. She stumbled out of the dining room, into the main corridor. Cadoc still stood beside the open front door, and there, holding his hat beneath his arm and wearing an uncertain expression, was Sir Isaac Fox.

  He caught her gaze with his, and they stared at one another. Millie’s heart thudded like a hammer against her ribs. Vaguely, she heard Cadoc say her name. But it was Isaac’s look that unbound her at last. The light in his eyes softened, one corner of his mouth came up almost sheepishly, hopefully.

  She stepped forward, slowly, but then her feet flew, and her arms reached for him.

  Isaac dropped his hat—What other choice did he have, really?—and scooped her up with his arm, holding her tightly against his chest. Millie kept her face buried in his cravat, hardly believing it was him. He had come looking for her. How had he known where to find her? She kept her arms around his waist, drinking in his scent, allowing the warmth from his body to seep into hers.

  Isaac’s lips brushed her forehead, his arm not loosening its hold upon her, and he breathed deeply. Content.

  “I take it you know the gentleman.” Cadoc’s lilting words made Millie laugh as she leaned back, only enough to face her brother-in-law.

  “This is Isaac.” She lifted her gaze to the baronet’s again. “I am going to marry him.”

  Isaac stared at her, his shock at her pronouncement quickly replaced by a grin. “Are you?”

  Cadoc chuckled and stepped aside. “Perhaps you two ought to come inside. Settle the matter where the neighbors will not be privy to what you decide.”

  Millie felt her cheeks warm, but she tossed her head, uncaring. Isaac gave her waist one last squeeze before he bent to retrieve his hat and follow her through the door.

  Cadoc bowed them into the front sitting room. “We will worry over introductions later,” he told them, giving Millie a wink before he left them alone. Door open.

  Isaac put his hat down on a table and held his hand out to her, and Millie did not need more of an invitation. She stepped back into his embrace. He kept it gentle, his arm looser, but no less full of his adoration. She laid her cheek against his chest.

  “Isaac. How did you find me?”

  * * *

  Isaac parted from Millie enough to stare down at her, incredulous. “The box.” She blinked at him, uncomprehending. “You left a letter in the box, and the direction for this house. I hoped you would be here when I arrived, but I was not certain—”

  “The box was empty,” she said softly. “I wanted to write to you, but I could not. I sent the box instead.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, Isaac released her, much to her disappointment judging by the tiny frown that appeared. He withdrew a well-worn piece of paper from his coat. Millie accepted it from him and unfolded it. After a brief glance at the words, she raised her gaze back to his.

  “I did write this.” A pretty pink stained her cheeks. “But then I left it, and Sarah—” She broke off and her eyebrows rose. “Sarah.”

  Isaac did not bother to hide his amusement. He quickly drew her to him again. “Your little maid is clever. She knows what you need better than you do. I would be willing to wager she left the paper with your destination, too.” He glanced around the house. “Where are we, exactly? Whose home is this?”

  “It belongs to my sister, Emmeline, and her husband.” Millie took his arm and tugged him to the couch. “Oh, Isaac. I have so much to tell you. I am sorry, so terribly sorry, that I ran away before. But you see, it has all been for the best. Emmie has told me everything about how happy she is, how much she loves her husband, and they have two children.” Millie beamed with genuine pride.

  He listened, trying to pick out the bits that made the most sense to him. He had so many questions. But what did they matter? Millie was safe, happy, and had declared her intention to marry him. He could want for nothing more.

  She broke off in her cheerful prattle and squeezed his hand. “Isaac. Why did you come? You do still care for me, do you not?”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her skin. “Always, my heart. I will always care for you. I love you.”

  Millie leaned into him, keeping her gaze upon his. “I love you, too.” She drew in a shaky breath. “My parents will disown me, I am certain. Lady Olivia and Lord Carning will make our lives as miserable as they can. It is their nature to be vindictive. But if you can overlook those things, if you do not mind them, and if you still want me—”

  He cut her words off with a kiss. A deeply felt, passionately given kiss. She returned his ardor as she had on both the previous occasions. Any doubt she had, he kissed it away.

  When they finally parted, both breathing more heavily than normal, Isaac’s heart pounded against his chest. He spoke over the sound thrumming in his ears. “You do not need to worry about Lady Olivia. Perhaps not even Carning. I have spoken to the Marquess of Alderton about his daughter’s schemes. And her behavior.”

  Millie jerked back from him, her mouth open wide. “No. And that worked?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Lady Olivia will never let that stand. She is conniving, devious, unprincipled—”

  He interrupted her with a laugh and a gentle squeeze of her hand. “All true. Her father’s displeasure will restrain her for a time. Well enough to keep Lady Olivia from daring to so much as whisper your name for the foreseeable future.” Isaac grimaced. “The man is a hypocrite. He would silence his daughter for acting as she has seen him act. But it is done. Carning will not say much, unless he wishes to hurt his own standing, because Lady Inglewood will sponsor your introduction to the Crown, as her sister.”

  “Introduction?” Millie’s eyebrows drew down. “Isaac, I know you detest London. We need not ever return to that wretched place.”

  He leaned back into the couch, retaining her hand in his. “Too late for that, love. I have come to a decision. It will be difficult. I cannot find the confidence—not yet—to move about as freely as I once did. But I cannot bury myself in my house like a hermit.”

  Millie slowly leaned into him, keeping her gaze upon him. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Make a difference,” he answered, lifting his left shoulder. “Speak to politicians as you suggested, like my brother-in-law, about the fate of men returning from war. Help them. Somehow. I cannot do much on my own. But with the help from the right people, and with you at my side for courage and care, perhaps I can improve things for men who live without the support I have had from my friends. And you.”

  Her eyes glowed up at him, admiration clear and bright within them. “That is a beautiful idea, Isaac. I will support you however you wish, however I am able. I promise.”

  “I promise the same for you, darling. I will protect you, I will defend you, and I will make you the queen of my life.” He watched her, noting everything from the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks to the way her eyes glowed amber in the light. “You said you will marry me?”

  She blushed. “I am certain we both know that is what comes next.”

  “Then I had better return you to your parents. With or without th
eir blessing, we need to do the honorable thing.”

  She pouted. “I would rather elope as Emmeline and Cadoc did.”

  A woman who could only be Millie’s sister rounded the doorway, eyes narrowed, hands upon her hips. “Absolutely not. I eloped because I was betrothed to a snake with the power of a duke behind him. You, dear sister, have no such dangers to keep you from an honorable marriage in a church.”

  Cadoc—the man who answered the door—put his head barely around the corner. “Do forgive us. We only started eavesdropping a moment ago.”

  Millie blushed furiously, but Isaac only laughed. He had a feeling his friends at home would have done the same. What did it matter, who heard their confessions of love or their plans for the future?

  Whatever anyone else thought, Millie and Isaac belonged together. Somehow, it would all turn out as it should. As it had. With the two of them in love.

  Epilogue

  Millie walked along Inglewood’s beach, her arm through her husband’s, her face lifted toward the breeze. “I will miss this.” She leaned her head against Isaac’s shoulder and released a sigh. “Must we really go to London this Season?”

  Her husband did not laugh at her reluctance, but she could feel his amusement. “I remember a time when all you wanted was a long winter in Town.”

  “Thought I wanted.” She snorted and pulled back, looking up at him with one eyebrow raised. She had studied Esther’s ability to appear imperious. “But it really is such a horrid heap of political maneuvering.”

  She looked behind them to see Silas and Esther walking several feet back, each holding one of little Isaac’s hands. They counted to three and swung the small boy forward, and he shrieked in delight.

  Isaac drew her back to their conversation. “You will get to spend time with your parents.”

  “And Emmeline.” Millie’s heart lifted. When her parents had been confronted with the loss of a second daughter to a less-than-advantageous marriage, Millie had been certain they would cut her off as they had Emmeline. Instead, they had packed their London household up and went directly to Warwickshire, to meet their grandchildren.