Page 28 of One Night of Surrender
“Of course not.”
She glanced away and worried her lower lip before looking back at him.“I hate being in a corner.But I’ve been in them before and found my own way out.I prefer to make my own choices.”
His patience was wearing thin.“You want choices?Stay at my house or stay at my grandmother’s, but you are not working in my pub.”
“So youwoulddismiss me?”
“To give you a better job, yes.”He held his hands up, pleading with her.“For the love of God, Isabelle, take my help!I am not your enemy.”
She stared at him, and he held his breath, his brain scrambling to think of other ways to persuade her, to make her see reason.“Fine, I’ll go to the dowager’s.If she’s agreeable.But if she’s not, you’ll let me work here in the kitchen.”
“She’ll be agreeable.”If she wasn’t, Val would make her that way.“I’ll take you there now.Where are your things?”
“Behind you, actually.I brought them here until later, when I’d planned to stay with Prudence until I find my own room to let.”
She was going to sleep in Cheapside?He was glad she’d found a job here and not somewhere questionable.“It’s lucky you came here.I’d say Fate is wielding her hand once again.”
“Who said the luck was good?”She moved past him and picked up her two valises.“I suppose you wish to leave now?”
“You won’t regret this, Isabelle.This will give you the time and opportunity to find an appointment that suits your knowledge and talent.”
“And you’ll leave me alone?”she asked.
“I will.”Though it pained him greatly.Seeing her here had only served to prove how much he’d hated saying goodbye to her last night.He wasn’t sure he could do it again.And yet, what was the alternative?
“Promise me.”
He looked her in the eye.“I promise.”He uncrossed his fingers and took the valises from her hand.
After driving to Grosvenor Square so Val could change his wine-soaked clothing, during which time Isabelle had waited in the coach, they arrived at the dowager’s house in Berkeley Square.What the house lacked in size compared to Val’s, it more than made up for in opulence.The art crammed into the entrance hall alone was enough to enchant Isabelle and convince her this wasn’t a bad decision.Almost.She refused to lose her head to a stunning Farington landscape and a gorgeous Gainsborough.
Isabelle stepped toward the latter painting and gestured toward one of the girls in the portrait.“Is that your grandmother?”
“Yes,” Val said.
She looked at him and then the painting in wonder.“Gainsborough painted your family?”
“My great-grandfather and his children, yes.My great-grandmother had already died.”Val turned to the butler, who’d let them in.“Is my grandmother still out?
“Yes, Your Grace.With Lady Viola,” the butler said, casting a surreptitious glance toward Isabelle.
Val gestured toward her.“Blenheim, allow me to present Mrs.Cortland.She will be Grandmama’s guest for a while.Please have her luggage fetched from my coach.”
Isabelle hoped he hadn’t spoken out of turn.What if the dowager refused to welcome her?
“We’ll wait for Grandmama in the drawing room.”Val swept his hand toward the stairs, and Isabelle preceded him.She was all too aware of her plain gray frock that until a short while ago had been covered with a barmaid’s apron.And now she found herself the guest of a dowager duchess.
When they reached the drawing room, she tried not to rush around from spectacular painting to breathtaking sculpture.She turned and looked at Val.“What if she doesn’t want me here?”
“I already told you that won’t happen.”
“Your grandmother seems to be a woman with a mind of her own.”Isabelle admired that.
“She will see the benefit in this for all parties.My grandmother’s mind is exceptionally sharp.”
Isabelle didn’t doubt it.She allowed herself a slow perusal of the room.If she was going to stay here, at least for a little while, she’d have plenty of time to explore everything.“Does your grandmother have a library like yours?”she asked, glancing back at Val, who had taken up a position near the fire leaning against the mantelpiece.
“Not as large as mine, but you’ll be satisfied.Viola likes to read almost as much as she likes to write.”
