If You Were Mine (Cavendish Mysteries 1) - Page 21

Dominic sighed, knowing full well Peter was right. “I know but hopefully this will be done and finished soon. I fully intend to keep her well and truly occupied once Rupert has been removed from our lives once and for all.”

Peter glanced at his friend, and knew the battle-hardened stare well. Nothing would get to his sister with Dominic around. He just hoped Isobel understood, and appreciated, just how much affection Dominic had for her.

“We need to decide who is going to do what, and how we are going to go about them keeping Isobel out of the loop,” Peter added. “I don’t want her getting involved unless she absolutely has to.”

Dominic nodded. “We do need to ask her to tell us what happened, and how she came to be removed from Willowbrook. It is imperative we find out who was involved, but need to do it without her realising we are going to bring Rupert down.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

As the clock ticked steadily on the mantle, both men settled back in their seats and began to plan.

Isobel awoke the following morning alone. Last night had been the first night since her arrival at Havistock Hall that Dominic hadn’t joined her in the master suite. She wasn’t sure if she preferred him there or not. Certainly, there was nobody there to argue with her if she decided to get up.

Shooting a calculating look at the distance between the bed and the walnut table standing along the far wall, she guessed it was a distance she could manage by herself. Easing the sheets backwards, she waited to see if the dizziness she had experienced over the past few weeks would returned, and was relieved when there was no sign, leaving her to see to her morning ablutions unhindered. Luckily, Peter had brought a large selection of her wardrobe with him, and these gave her ample selection to choose from.

Moments later, adorned in her favourite cornflower blue linen dress Isobel slowly closed the bedroom door behind her. A quick glance to the right revealed a doorway leading to a set of stairs, clearly servant’s stairs. To the left was a longish corridor leading to what Isobel could only assume was the main staircase. Slowly, she took the left corridor. She paused when she reached the upper landing, waiting for her trembling legs to steady beneath her as she studied the awfully long, sweeping staircase leading down to the ornate entrance hall in consternation. She had done very well so far, even if she did say so herself, but could she manage such a long staircase unaided?

“Ahem.”

Isobel jumped with alarm as a footman appeared from somewhere behind her.

“Sorry ma’am,” he said politely, offering her a deep bow. “Would you like me to escort you down the stairs?” He held out an elbow, clearly waiting to assist her.

Isobel looked at the long sweeping steps before turning back towards the footman.

She arched a brow in question.

“Edwards, Ma’am,” the footman said.

“Thank you, Edwards.” Isobel took the pro-offered elbow gratefully. “I hadn’t realised how large this house was.”

“It is a rather grand place, ma’am,” the young man replied, carefully manoeuvring them down the stairs. Isobel was so intent on keeping her knees from buckling beneath her and falling down, she missed the frantic signal the footman gave to the upstairs maid who quickly scurried off towards the servant’s stairs.

She had no sooner got to the last few steps, when Dominic appeared at the bottom.

“Where do you think you are going?” Dominic asked, stunned at the vision before him. Although thinner than she had been before, her hair had grown significantly longer and curled tantalizingly around her delicate face. Her slightly tanned skin held a slight flush of good health. Even though her dress hung a little loosely on her, Dominic was pleased to note she had indeed put on some of her original weight and looked far healthier than she had been. One could almost be fooled into thinking she was back to full health, if you ignored the slightly rasping breathing.

“I have had enough of being in bed. It is time I got up.” Isobel raised her chin defiantly as she slowly descended the last few steps. “I was going to -” She paused, and looked inquiringly at the man beside her.

“The library, my Lady,” Edwards offered, wondering if he had overstepped the mark at his suggestion. It was the only room he could think of with a lit fire and he, like the rest of the house staff, felt sympathetic toward the young woman on his arm.

“Yes, I was just going to the library,” she announced, skirting cautiously around Dominic, just in case he took it into his head to pick her up and return her to the bedroom.

“Then that is where you shall go, my dear Lady,” Dominic replied and swept an astonished Isobel off her feet.

“I can walk,” Isobel grumbled. Within minutes she was carefully placed among the plush cushions upon the chaise lounge in a room literally crammed full with row upon row of books.

“Have you had breakfast?” Although the hour was long past the breakfast hour, Dominic knew Cook would be happy to make anything Isobel wanted. Indeed, most of his house staff seemed to have taken it upon themselves to oversee Isobel’s recovery themselves.

“I am not very hungry,” Isobel replied, and paused at the slight frown of concern that immediately appeared on Dominic’s dace. “I shall send for some tea and cakes, if Cook has any, later.” Ignoring his towering presence, Isobel began to arrange her skirts carefully around her knees, only to find a thick rug draped casually over her knees by the ever-attentive Edwards. “Thank you.”

“I shall ring for a maid. I am sure Cook can come up with something to whet your appetite.” He had noted the slight trembling in Isobel’s hands as she had arranged her skirts, and wondered if she was trying to hide her weakness from him. “How are you feeling this morning Isobel? Did you sleep well?” Dominic’s low murmur was interrupted by the arrival of Peter.

“Peter!” Isobel was unable to hide her delight as her brother swept across the room towards her. She didn’t have time to stand before she was enveloped in a bear hug. Taking a deep breath, she was assailed with the same scent that had permeated the clothes she had taken out of his hidden drawer all of those months ago, and the sudden memory of that night flooded her. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she tightened her hold on him, suddenly needing the comfort of his hug.

“Careful, my dear!” Peter laughed roughly, his tone husky as he gently eased to sit beside her.

“I’m sorry,” Isobel sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. “It is just your scent.” Her throat closed again, and she fought to contain the emotions the memories brought forward.

Tags: Rebecca King Cavendish Mysteries Historical
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