Page 9 of A Dangerous Little Scandal

“I should like that very much, my lord. Thank you for your kind consideration.”

He smiled at her again, and she quickly glanced away, lest she get pulled into his charming magnetism. In another lifetime she might have entertained the thought of them together. But she had made her choices years ago. There was no turning back now.

As they entered the box, she saw two middle-aged gentlemen. Both had gray hair, and although they wore formal attire, their stained and calloused hands gave away their working professions.

They bowed politely to her as she inclined her head in acknowledgement. As Lord Osgood made the introductions, Mr. Stephenson looked at her curiously, almost as if she were an oddity to be studied. It was a good thing she generally overlooked such slights. As a woman in her position, they were to be expected. “I’m not passing judgement, my lady, as my sister, Nelly, was a spinster until just recently, but the marquess tells me that you don’t ever intend to marry.”

She took a sip of her punch. “Marriage and motherhood aren’t for everyone.”

His face held a touch of melancholy. “I suppose not. My daughter died as an infant and I would certainly not wish that heartache on anyone.”

Isadora’s heart went out to him, so she attempted to change the subject. “Your son, Robert, seems to be doing very well.” Sheregarded him evenly. “I’m given to understand that he’s currently in South America looking to expand the locomotive business with the Colombian Mining Association, in order to move gold and silver out of the mines.”

She could feel the marquess’ gaze upon her, as well as that of Mr. Longridge, but she kept her focus on Mr. Stephenson, who grinned. “You are properly educated, my lady. Dare I ask how you were able to obtain such information all the way in London?”

“I enjoy a bit of research.” She allowed her lips to curve upward. “Call it a hobby if you will. Just as I know that you solved the issue of the newly designed, cast-iron rails, which were too brittle to withstand the weight of your steam locomotives by adding additional bogies and using steam to cushion most of the pressure.”

He chuckled. “I suppose if you find that meetings in industry start to become too tedious, you could always try your hand at becoming a private investigator.”

She inclined her head. “I shall take that into consideration, Mr. Stephenson. Thank you. I do hope that I am able to procure a ticket for the first passenger excursion from Stockton to Darlington next year.”

His eyes glimmered with respect, the very aim she had been hoping to accomplish. “I shall see to it personally as I will be driving the locomotive myself.”

Isadora turned to his companion. “Of course, I also know about you, Mr. Longridge.” His brows lifted. “Not only are you in charge of Bedlington Ironworks, but your agent, Mr. John Birkinshaw, who patented the more malleable, wrought-iron rails, has been quite successful. The level of production that you have been able to accomplish compared to manual casting techniques has been a large improvement when it comes to transportation for the working classes. You are pioneering a new, revolutionary age.”

He cleared his throat. “I appreciate that, my lady. The time hascome for modern techniques to be put into place to make life easier for us all.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” As the lights started to be extinguished the marquess held out his arm to her.

“Shall we partake of the rest of the play?” he asked with a wink.

Before they could be seated, Mr. Stephenson said, “I shall look forward to giving you a tour of our facility tomorrow, Lady Isadora.”

“The same for me if you would like to come to the Ironworks,” Mr. Longridge added.

Isadora dipped into a light curtsy. “Thank you for your kind consideration, gentleman. It will be an honor.”

Remington was hard pressedto watch the stage, for his gaze kept sliding to the lady on his left. Lady Isadora was just as composed now as she had been when she was speaking to two of the most important men in Newcastle, or at least, they were when it came to the progressive, industrial developments for the future of England.

When he thought he might have her figured out, she continued to surprise him at every turn. Was there a more remarkable woman?

“Is there something you wish to say, Lord Osgood?” She didn’t turn her head as she murmured the query, her gaze still fixated on the performance.

He decided to do the same, and returned his focus to the play, although he spoke the truth. Thankfully, their companions were seated farther behind them, which gave them a bit of privacy. “I find you quite fascinating, my lady.”

“Hmm. And why is that? Because I don’t allow myself to be intimidated? Or because I think it’s good business to learn aboutthe people that I am going to be conducting monetary affairs with on Lord Somers’ behalf?”

“Both, actually,” he concurred. “But so much more. You don’t allow yourself to get caught up in the silly nonsense that other debutantes are wont to gush on about. Things that don’t matter except when it comes to their own social status or attire.” He gave a mock shudder.

“Are you saying that my wardrobe is lacking then?”

He looked sharply at her, and damned if her lips didn’t twitch, proof enough that she was teasing him. As his gaze traveled up and down the length of her body, he leaned slightly closer to whisper in her ear, “Believe me when I say that there is not a single thing lacking on you, my lady.” He paused, then dared to say, “Unless, of course, it would be my lips upon yours.”

This time, she was the one who glanced at him. He was afraid that he’d gone too far with his bold statement, until he realized the spark in her gray eyes wasn’t disgust, but something much more… interesting.

She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, and he wondered if that was her way of donning personal armor, to close herself off to feeling anything deeper. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak so inappropriately, my lord. I may be a woman, but I deserve respect, even if I’m a spinster.”

Properly chastised, Rem withheld a sigh. “Of course, my lady. Forgive my impudence. I quite forgot myself for a moment. It won’t happen again.”

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