Page 20 of Lord Farleigh and Miss Frost

“I apologize for startling you, Miss Frost.”

“I was not startled,” she retorted quickly, then felt her cheeks warm when both the earl and her brother looked at her with confusion. “Merely…taken aback.”

“Ah.” Lord Farleigh smiled a little and pushed the door closed behind him. Making it appear rather like a wall again. “Then forgive me for causing so unpleasant a reaction.”

She bit her tongue before she could say something else ridiculous.

“Where are you coming from, my lord?” Teague asked, smiling as though earls popping out of walls was a common occurrence.

“There is a spiral staircase behind the wall—mostly used by servants, but it was more convenient than going down to the ballroom staircase or the chapel spiral. The family’s private rooms are above the small dining room.”

Isleen took in the earl’s appearance, looking for a hint of change in his clothing or person for the start of the wager. He looked as perfectly dressed as he had the day before. “Are you as eager for your breakfast as my brother?”

“More so that I am eager to stay out of everyone else’s way. If I came down the corridor at the same time as my former best friend, he would likely insist I slide down a banister or perform some other sort of foolishness.” Lord Farleigh’s grimace made her wish there was a banister at hand at that very moment. “I will not have the wherewithal for that sort of spectacle until I have had breakfast.”

Isleen tried not to smile. He seemed quite discouraged in that moment. “I suppose I can understand that. But you know, my lord, you did not have to accept the wager at all.”

“Whydidyou agree to the thing?” Teague asked, head cocked to one side. “How did they persuade you?”

“I will happily tell you at the breakfast table.” Lord Farleigh gestured to the remaining length of the corridor. “If we can make it before Sir Andrew steals all the bacon.” In as practiced a movement as breathing, the earl extended his hand to Isleen. “May I take you in, Miss Frost?”

She accepted without thinking, taking his arm as naturally as he offered it. The corridor was wide enough for the three of them to walk abreast, so the escort shouldn’t matter or be necessary. The man had impeccable manners. She could say that much for him.

They were not the first to the table. Lord Atella already had seated himself, and he sipped at a cup of steaming coffee with the newsheets in hand. He rose when they approached and bowed. “Good morning, Farleigh, Dunmore, and Miss Frost.”

“Atella.” Lord Farleigh pulled her chair out for her before circling the table to take a seat directly across. Her brother sat down in the seat beside hers. “Is your lady exercising her privilege today?”

Married women often took their breakfasts in bed and at their leisure. Isleen sometimes wondered if she would use the hours of the morning in such a luxurious manner. When and if she ever married.

“She does not plan to leave her room until she must.” Luca’s smile turned crooked. “In London, she is awake before I am to see to the staff and all the social aspects of her role. I do not blame her for taking advantage of her stay here.”

The business of preparing plates and cups, of exchanging small pleasantries, took up several minutes before Teague brought up his question from the corridor. “Well, Farleigh? Why did you agree to a wager that, no matter what, will see you behaving in a less than dignified manner?”

Lord Atella smirked and pulled his newspaper up higher until Isleen could no longer see his expression. She frowned. She hadn’t thought the count had seemed all that interested in the wager. Perhaps he had a greater part in the scheme than she suspected.

Did everyone in the earl’s life wish to see him make a fool of himself?

“I know Sir Andrew and Josephine too well to fight them on something like this. Apart, they were stubborn. Together, they are formidable.” Lord Farleigh cut slices of fried potato even smaller on his plate. “Before they wed, earlier this year, Andrew rattled around telling everyone I was far too serious. So this complaint of his has gone on for nearly a year.”

Teague winced. “That is a long time to hear the same complaint.”

“Precisely. And it comes from a good place, I suppose. Andrew is my oldest friend.”

“He is worried about you.” The realization came to Isleen all at once, and almost as a relief. Here she had thought she was taking part in some sort of torture. While the idea of telling Lord Farleigh what to do had pleased her, there had remained some discomfort that his friends were playing a mean-spirited joke on him. That this wasn’t the case relieved her more than she thought it would. “This is his way of encouraging you to enjoy yourself.”

“Precisely. And he somehow convinced my sister and our other friends to support him. Which tells me they might share his concern.” Simon pointedly looked at the newspaper shielding the Sicilian count. “Have I guessed rightly, Atella?”

The count didn’t even lower the paper but spoke from behind the newsprint. “I cannot hear anything from behind this paper.”

Isleen bit her lip to keep from laughing. What an interesting group of friends. Lord Farleigh was quite lucky to have so many people worrying over his well-being.

But why had they included her in their mischief?

“That is as good as an admission,” Lord Farleigh said with a confident smirk. “And I will prove that you have all worried over nothing.”

Lord Atella turned a page in his paper, saying nothing in return.

Teague hummed, impressed. Isleen poked at her smoked ham and frowned down at her plate. She didn’t ask her question of the count or the earl. Perhaps they had chosen her as his keeper because it would give her something to do, or it was a way to include a guest in their amusement. There wasn’t a malicious reason for it, she felt certain, and that was all that mattered.

---