Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(3)

No, that was merely the man’s name. She wanted to know who he was. “Why are you with him?” Isabel asked.

“’Tis a long story,” Lilith said.

“This way.” Lord Lynford angled his head.

Lilith matched the duke’s stride and said something quietly to him as they were led through the foyer and down a corridor. He quipped back to her. Though Isabel couldn’t hear their precise words, she was not so green to not recognize that something simmered between the two of them. Of course that would not be surprising. Her aunt was beautiful, stunning, and likely turned the head of every man when she entered a room. She and the handsome Lord Lynford would certainly make a striking couple.

The butler led them into a study, and a man immediately stood from behind a large mahogany desk. Though he quite obviously belonged in this room, there was a boyish charm about his wry grin that made him appear as if he’d snuck into his father’s study.

“Have you been traveling about London picking up stray women all night, Lynford?” His brilliant blue eyes sparkled as he spoke.

“Not precisely,” the duke said.

The man Isabel presumed was Lord Ellis stepped around his desk. He glanced at Lilith. “Lady Thornton, a pleasure to see you again.”

Lord Lynford tried to introduce her. Isabel vaguely heard him refer to her as Miss Crisp. Isabel knew it was unbecoming and impolite to stare, but she seemed to be caught up in the appearance of Lord Ellis. With his cropped brown hair and chiseled jawline, he was the picture of a fine gentleman, right down to the aristocratic line of his nose and the white of his cravat. Although he wasn’t as tall as Lord Lynford, his broad shoulders spoke of masculinity, and the way he moved revealed his athleticism. He was nothing short of dashing.

“We used our Christian names at St. Bart’s so I’m accustomed to that. Isabel is fine,” she said.

“Very well,” Lord Lynford said with a nod. “Isabel is in need of protection.” He stepped closer to Ellis and lowered his voice. “We could discuss this in private, if need be.”

“Unnecessary. I trust your assessment. Who is she?” Lord Ellis asked, never taking his piercing gaze off her.

Isabel coughed gently. “She is Lord Thornton’s niece. I can speak for myself.”

That wry grin from earlier blossomed into a full smile. He gave her a sharp nod. “Duly noted, Lord Thornton’s niece. I shall address you directly in the future.” He turned back to Lord Lynford. “Now then, am I to understand that we do not know why she is in danger?”

“You believe me to be in danger still?” Isabel asked, her heart ticking up a beat. “I thought that man was merely a criminal taking advantage of my being out at such an early hour.”

“We do not know,” Lilith said. “And I certainly did not intend for us to intrude upon you so early in the morning; it is not even fully light out yet. If you would kindly lend us a carriage, we shall—”

“Lilith, you are not going anywhere,” Lord Lynford said. “We’ve discussed this.”

“No, you made demands. Not the same thing,” Lilith said.

Isabel watched the two of them standoff and didn’t know what to think. She was potentially in danger, though she couldn’t fathom why. She knew next to no one, considering she’d spent so many of her formative years at St. Bart’s. Though something must be causing Lilith to be alarmed, else she would not have taken Isabel away from school before dawn.

“Ellis,” Lynford said. “Perhaps you could show Isabel to a room, assuming you are able to accommodate us?”

“Of course,” Lord Ellis said.

Lilith gave Isabel an apologetic look.

She would have been satisfied with someone simply pointing her to the nearest room, although she couldn’t very well return to bed at this hour. She supposed some women would. She’d heard that genteel ladies often did not arise until noon, but she was not accustomed to keeping such hours. Not only that, but she wasn’t ready to end the conversation with Lilith and Lord Lynford. She wanted answers. Her aunt’s tight-lipped expression clearly revealed that she would not be providing any more answers, at least with Lord Lynford within earshot. So Isabel followed Lord Ellis out of the room.

“I admittedly do not have guests often. My apologies if I am a terrible host,” Lord Ellis said as he led her up the staircase.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever truly been a guest, so I won’t have much previous experience by which to measure your hosting skills.”

He chuckled. “Ah, then I have ample opportunity to impress you.”

She smiled in spite of herself and the awkward situation.

“Yes, well, here we are.” He opened a door to their right and stepped inside.

She followed suit and stared in surprise at the sight that greeted her. She forced herself to close her mouth. “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “Is this some sort of jest?”

His brows rose. “Is the room not to your liking?”

“No, you misunderstand. I expected to be shown to a servant’s room. This”—she stepped farther into the room, but was careful to keep her feet on the hard floor and not tread directly onto the very expensive and plush rug—“is too much. It is unnecessary for me to have so much opulence.” She backed up, trying to leave the room, but he stopped her with a hand against her back.