His face remained as expressionless as an artist’s blank canvas. “I trust everything was in order. I’m afraid I have kept Mr. Blackwood busy with the renovations to the townhouse. Mrs. Birch knows to send word should any problems arise.”
“It is my recent visit to Highley Grange that forced me to seek you out.” She was rather proud that she had managed to remain so calm and composed. “I understand that now is perhaps not the best time to discuss the strange events that occurred there. But it is a matter of some importance, and therefore cannot wait.”
“Strange events? Has something untoward happened? Has one of the staff been taken ill?”
Oh, he really was exceptional when it came to deceiving others.
A commotion at the end of the long corridor captured their attention. A rather scrawny looking gentleman ambled out of the room to their right. He grabbed the arm of the chair propped against the wall outside but it failed to stop him from falling to his knees. Trembling fingers reached out to loosen the knot in his cravat. The man’s death-like pallor made her suck in a breath.
“Should someone not go over and help him?” she said in a sudden panic as people simply stared at the distressing spectacle. “It appears as though his heart has given out.”
Henry gave a disdainful sneer. “It is not his heart that’s weak but his morals.”
Tristan had mentioned a card game. Was this gentleman a casualty of the high stakes at play?
“I am certain those people standing gaping are guilty of some immoral act,” she said, for Henry was a hypocrite of monumental proportion. “Should we not show him some compassion?”
“Not at all. It serves the blighter right. No doubt he has just gambled his inheritance and lost. If he has any sense, he’ll pack a trunk full of valuables and be on the first ship to Boston.”
Isabella had heard many tales of ruination, but to witness it firsthand. The look of utter despair marring the fellow’s face reminded her of how reckless and foolish people could be.
A footman dressed in fine livery exited the room, lifted the man to his feet and escorted him to another room further along the corridor.
“I hope the footman will stay with him until he recovers,” she said, though she struggled to convey a hint of optimism.
“Judging by the look on his face, recovery is far from an option.” Henry shook his head and turned to face her. “Now, before the rude interruption you were about to explain the strange occurrences at Highley Grange.”
A busy thoroughfare was not the place to discuss the terrifying events he had orchestrated to frighten her. Nor would it do to be seen entering a room alone with him.
With a huff to express her frustration, she moved to the alcove opposite in the hope it would afford a little privacy. “I cannot stay at Highley Grange another night,” she said as he came to stand before her.
“After all that has gone on there in the past, I do not know how you can bear to cross the threshold.” Henry flicked the lock of brown hair from his brow in such a way as to convey his irritation.
“It is not the past that concerns me. I fear the place is haunted.” She scrutinised his face. Still, he showed not a single sign of guilt, not a glimmer of remorse for his wicked betrayal.
“Then you must come and live at Grangefields.” He made no mention of ghosts. Not even to scoff at the idea. Instead, his lips thinned in a look of reproof. “I do not know why you have not done so sooner. You would have a suite for your own personal use. You would be free to use the townhouse when I am not in residence if you would prefer it so.”
She wondered if he was about to offer her a golden carriage and a team of matching pairs. Why did he want her to leave Highley Grange so desperately? Perhaps a penchant for wild parties was in the blood. Perhaps he had inherited his father’s problem in the bedchamber.
But then she remembered his mistress, Mrs. Forester.
“What will I do when you marry? Surely your wife will not want a stepmother living in the house, particularly when we are the same age.”
He shrugged dismissively. “But I do not intend to wed. At least, not in the foreseeable future. You would be free to live at Grangefields without fear of being disturbed.”
How interesting?
She frowned. “Some people say your affection for your mistress, Mrs. Forester, is the reason you avoid the debutantes and have no desire to wed.”
It was though a sudden volatile wind had swept in to swirl ominously around them. Henry’s stone-cold expression sent a shiver racing through her.
“Where did you hear that?” he demanded, the tiny twitch in his cheek being the only visible evidence of anger. “Who told you such a thing?”
Isabella raised one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I heard in mentioned in the retiring room by a group of ladies at a ball a few days ago. I heard Mrs. Birch talking to Molly. Indeed, just this evening, two gentlemen were discussing your relationship with your mistress.”
Henry was a private man who could not abide people
prying into his affairs. The thought of being the topic of conversation amongst gossips would not sit well with him.