Page 46 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“There’s no need to call me sir,” the man insisted. “You may call me Michael.”
“Well, Michael, I would very much appreciate it if you and your friends would allow me to continue with my shopping in peace. You have followed me almost immediately after I arrived, and I have ignored you for the most part because you were not directly interfering in my chores. However, I have much to do and would not like to fall behind.”
Nash smiled. Even in distress, Isabella managed to keep a level head and spoke calmly to the men. Other women would have been crying hysterically by now and accusing the men of improper misconduct.
“Do not be so harsh with us, Miss,” another young man insisted. “We’re simply overcome by your beauty. You must be new to these parts because I have not seen you before.”
“I am new to this town,” Isabella agreed.
“Where do you live?” Michael asked.
“In my employer’s household.”
“Who is your employer?” another man asked.
“I’m afraid I cannot give such information, and it would certainly be in bad taste to do so,” Isabella told them.
The men all complained, but they did not give up their questions. In fact, they become more insistent upon knowing precisely who she was. The strain was finally beginning to show on Isabella’s face as it turned red, and she tried to increase her pace. However, she was no match for the men who were all taller than her and did not carry any parcels to hinder them.
Unable to continue to watch and do nothing, Nash strode towards the men and Isabella, startling her when he appeared before her.
“Are these men harassing you?” he asked, knowing full that they were.
“Good day, Your Grace,” Isabella said with a curtsey. “I did not realise you were coming into town today.”
The men had all given him hostile looks, but once they realised he was a duke, their expressions were carefully hidden behind polite masks.
“I had a few errands to complete and was surprised when I saw you walking up the street,” Nash replied, still staring down the men.
“Oh, I see,” said Isabella. “Let me not keep you, Your Grace.”
“I am heading home— why not travel with me? The carriage is right behind me.”
Isabella looked around his person, nodding. “I see it, Your Grace, but there is no need to concern yourself. I shall return by hackney.”
The woman’s stubbornness was rather irritating and unnecessary. Nash could not leave her knowing that these men could follow her. She was safer coming home with him.
“We will take care of her, Your Grace,” Michael said. “We can deliver her to where she lives in complete safety.”
Nash couldn’t help his sneer. “Is that so? Were you not just harassing my employee? I watched how you surrounded her a moment ago, and I hear you have been following her around. What sort of men are you?”
Most of the young men looked away, some of their cheeks and ears turning pink. However, a few stubborn ones kept their steady stare as though they dared to challenge him.
“We certainly were not harassing her, Your Grace,” Michael answered. “We only wished to speak with her. Is that not so, Miss?”
Nash realised that Michael was the ringleader of the group. Did they hang around town waiting for unsuspecting women to come along so they could stalk them? Well, they had chosen the wrong woman to target.
“Our community does not take too kindly to rowdy young men making our town unsafe for young women,” said Nash, putting as much warning as he could into his voice. “As for my employees, I advise you to stay away from them. Come along, Isabella.”
Nash’s tone left no room for argument from her. He waited patiently for her to approach him while he kept an eye on the group of men warily watching him. They were right to feel afraid. Nash was not an enemy anyone wanted, not when he had the ear of many powerful and influential people.
Turning his back on the men, Nash encouraged Isabella to walk ahead of him, taking the parcels from her resistant grasp.
“Franklin, please bring Isabella the stool. The step is a tad too high for her to climb.”
The driver slid down from his seat, quickly grabbing the wooden stool and placing it in front of Isabella.
“Up you go, young lady,” said Franklin.
