Page 33 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
Nash enjoyed the complexity of problem-solving, but he had to admit that he hadn’t a clue what to think about Isabella. The woman was an enigma and a charming one at that.
He leaned on the second-floor balustrade, watching her interact with the maids below. Putting her under Mrs Black’s guiding hand had been the right thing to do, although his proud housekeeper would say differently.
The older servants continued to distrust Isabella, but Nash sensed a softening about them that was undeniable. Even Johnson had ceased to refer to her as “that woman” and called her by the name Nash had suggested. The only person who refused to acknowledge the name was his sister.
I do not understand how I have disrespected our grandmother by allowing Isabella to use the name. I believe it fits her perfectly, and it is just a name when all is said and done.
It was ridiculous to take offence over such a small matter, and Ellie was seldom such a petty woman. It had amazed Nash to see this side of his sister.
Nash leaned a little lower, straining his ears to pick up the cheerful conversation happening below him.
“I rather like this flower arrangement,” said Isabella, touching a blooming ranunculus. “Have you shown it to Mrs Black?”
“Not yet,” Kitty replied. “I hoped that you would like it. I personally chose all the flowers and refused any bruised ones from the vendor.”
“You did a marvellous job,” Isabella praised. “I’ll speak to Mrs Black, but I think you can make the arrangements for the other rooms as well. Lady Stratford adores tulips, so a bouquet of white, pink, and cream should do wonderfully in her room. They’ll complement the colours of her drapes and linen.”
Isabella was an insightful young woman. Ellie favoured tulips, and her favourite colours were white and pink, but not even Mrs Black had thought to create such an arrangement for her room. The housekeeper usually left the chore to one of the upper housemaids, and while the arrangements had always been pleasing to the eye, none came close to Isabella’s creativity.
“Shall I put any flowers in the duke’s room?” Kitty asked.
Isabella laughed, the gay sound carrying through the hallway. “Good heavens, no! Our duke does not appreciate any flowers in his room, although he is too polite to say so. A bit of lavender under his pillow is the most he will take.”
Nash smiled. The woman’s gaiety was infectious, and despite the challenging circumstance of her memory loss, she managed to maintain ajoie de vivrethat pulled one in. It made a person wish to capture some of the sunshine and keep it close on dreary days.
Nash caught his thoughts, drawing his thick eyebrows together in a deep frown.
What on earth am I saying? I’m praising the woman as though she means more than a servant to me! I’ll admit that the many unknowns in her life have intrigued me to notice more than I usually would, but there is no need to take it too far.
Pushing away from the balustrade, Nash moved on to the library. It was an extensive one with numerous books he had yet to read. His parents had been avid book collectors, as was he, but their tastes had stretched far and wide to include texts from many countries.
Some of them were in the original language of the text, making it impossible to read them. Nash already spoke several languages and had a good understanding of Egyptian hieroglyphics (his father had insisted upon it). However, he had drawn the line at Chinese, Urdu, Japanese, Aramaic, and many others.
After several minutes of searching for an interesting book, Nash went against the idea of reading and instead settled in his favourite armchair. It had belonged to his father and even had a slight impression of the man’s body from his days spent reading in the library.
If he had simply kept to reading about adventures and did not go looking for them, he and Mother would still be with us today.
Isabella oddly reminded him of his mother, which should repel him from getting to know anything else about the woman. Adventure was a dangerous thing, in his expert opinion, and was best avoided by all.
Isabella hadn’t done anything to warrant such a belief about her, but there was an audacious air about her that he had picked up through his observations. One only had to look at Kitty’s promotion to understand what he meant.
Isabella had bypassed Mrs Black and come straight to him to ask that Kitty be moved from being a lower housemaid to an upper one. She had come with a good argument and had stood
her ground about the maid’s capabilities and the need to hire another maid to take over Kitty’s more manual duties. No one had ever come to him with such a request before, and Nash had found himself agreeing to her request.
Mrs Black had not been pleased about the sudden change in household staff dynamics, but Nash had secretly applauded Isabella for taking a risk for someone she considered a friend. Stratford Manor acquired a new maid, and Kitty was given chores that primarily involved direct interaction with him and Ellie.
Nash’s mind was still on Isabella’s contribution to the house when Johnson drew his attention at the doorway.
“Come in, Johnson. I didn’t realise you had returned.”
The man had been charged with delivering a sizeable donation to their church after the vicar made a brief call on Nash a week ago.
“I have only just entered the house, Your Grace,” the valet said, coming to stand before him. “I also took the liberty of asking the vicar to alert us to any information that may help us locate Isabella’s family.”
Nash stilled. “Oh? What did you tell him?”
He had always intended to start searching for Isabella’s past, but Nash had been putting it off. He simply couldn’t bring himself to actively search for her past life yet, and potentially lose her presence in the household.
