Page 81 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
They resembled bandits and had likely partaken in criminal activities until they realised that doing jobs on behalf of the wealthy was more lucrative. Nash did not ask where Johnson had found these men or how he knew them. The valet was a resourceful man who could move in the shadows of the night and walk in broad daylight with equal ease.
“Mr Johnson informed us you want someone’s past found,” Mr Barrett said, pulling snuff into his nose.
“Yes,” Nash confirmed. “We do not know much about her, so the information we’ll give you is not what you’re likely accustomed to.”
“We get all sorts of situations, Your Grace,” said Mr Paul. “You can think of us as dogs who catch a scent and follow it until we find it. Some might call us relentless.”
Mr Clooney chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it, but I doubt the people on the receiving end of our, uh, attentions would think so.”
Nash raised his eyebrows slightly. These men were undoubtedly violent, but if Johnson was convinced they could do the job, then he would just have to believe it. His valet had never let him down yet.
“This is all the information we have on her,” said Johnson, handing the men a piece of paper. “Some of the details come from her own memory of her past, but they’re patchy at best. However, if you are the skilled men you believe yourself to be, then this should be more than enough.”
The men looked through the information, passing it on to the next man until all three of them had gone through the notes.
“This is enough,” Mr Barrett confirmed. “Of course, payment is needed before we go any further.”
Nash indicated for Johnson to give the men the sack of money they had prepared this morning.
“This is half the agreed amount,” Nash explained. “Find Isabella’s identity, and you might receive a bonus on top of the other half.”
All three men grinned their approval, bidding them farewell until their next meeting. Nash hoped it wasn’t too soon, not because he wanted to avoid the men but to avoid the inevitability of Isabella leaving him.
“That went rather well,” Johnson commented. “I have a feeling they shall complete the assignment in no time at all.”
“They certainly are confident,” Nash added. “It’s time we turn back and go home before those rain clouds come down on us.”
They had gathered during Nash’s brief conversation with the three men, but now they seemed dark and heavy and ready to pour out their contents.
Nash and Johnson jumped onto their horses and headed back to the house, arriving moments before the heavens burst and drenched the earth. One of Nash’s pet peeves was to have wet clothing against his skin, so he was relieved to have missed the downpour.
“Shall I have the fire started in the drawing room, Your Grace?” Johnson asked. “The chill in the air has dramatically increased.”
Nash was about to say yes, but he caught sight of Isabella walking across the second-floor landing. She didn’t look once his way and appeared to be rushing.
I know that you’re avoiding me, Isabella. You cannot run forever.
“Your Grace?” Johnson pressed.
“Stoke the fires in the library, Johnson,” Nash told him. “And send Isabella to me.”
The valet’s eyes widened briefly, but he quickly recovered and nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. Will you be needing anything else?”
“No, thank you. That will be all.”
Johnson bowed and left Nash to slowly climb the stairs towards his room. He needed to freshen up a little, and hopefully, Isabella would be waiting for him by the time he got to the library. With that in mind, he whistled a cheerful tune as he removed his riding attire and put on something a little more comfortable. A splash of water to his face and a touch of cologne wa
s enough for him to pronounce himself ready. He maintained his whistle until he reached the library, where he poked his head into the room first, hardly able to hide his grin when he found Isabella perched on a chair.
“Good day, Isabella,” he greeted, entering the room.
The woman immediately rose to her feet and curtsied. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“I would like you to read to me today,” he announced, his excitement skimming the surface. “This time, I want you to choose the book.”
“Me, Your Grace?” Isabella asked. “But I do not know what you like.”
“Of course, you do. Simply follow your heart, and it will lead you in the right direction.”
