A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(66)

“Oh, I’m always like this,” she said. “Aren’t I, Toby?”

“Yes.” Toby smiled despite himself. Only Isabel could insult him so sweetly. She continued, “I’m not a romantic, Mr. Yorke. Fairness, justice, honesty—these are the qualities that move my heart.”

“Is that so?” Yorke gave Toby a chastening look.

Toby shrugged and studied the oak standing sentinel atop a distant hill. He imagined he saw his own noose hanging there, twisting in the breeze. Yes, old man. There you have it. I’m sunk.

“Very well,” Yorke said gruffly. “In the interests of fairness, we’ll proceed with the canal as agreed, if” —he stayed Isabel’s thanks with a curt gesture—“if you lease my western fields for the summer.”

“But you just said you plan to let them lie fallow!”

“I do. You can use them as—”

“As pasture,” Toby said, shaking his head as the obvious dawned. “Of course. And the land will be the richer for it, in time for winter planting.” He had to hand it to Yorke; the man really was shrewd. No wonder he’d been so successful in Parliament all these years. What mad whim had led Toby to consider making a serious challenge? “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Yorke said, slapping him on the back. “Really, Toby. You were supposed to be clever enough to think of it yourself. It’s a fortunate thing you married this one,” he said, nodding at Isabel. “At least she knows God’s little lambs need a home.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A primal scream greeted them as Toby and Isabel crossed the threshold of Grayson House.

“Dear heavens.” Isabel clutched at his arm, drawing her body into his. Her instinctive response gave Toby a deeply male sense of satisfaction. His wife trusted him. To protect her, to pleasure her. Surely it could not be long before she surrendered her heart. When this absurd election was over, Isabel would put aside her disappointment, and Toby had every hope that their relationship could continue to deepen and grow. In short, life was good. A savage growl shook the walls.

Or not so good.

Sophia rushed toward them, her cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. “Thank God you’re here.”

“What the devil is going on?” Toby handed his hat and gloves to a footman. “Are they murdering cats above-stairs?”

“It’s Lucy,” Sophia said. “She’s gone into labor.”

“Here?” Isabel asked. A moan rumbled through the plastered ceiling, and she tilted her head toward its source. “Now?”

“Yes.” Sophia ushered them toward the salon, drawing them aside for a private conference just before they entered. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “She and Jeremy had some kind of row, and Lucy left in a fit of temper. She drove here in the phaeton, and by the time she arrived her pains had already begun. Miss Osborne says it’s not safe to move her. She must deliver the child here.”

Toby exchanged a quick glance with his wife. “We really should leave.”

Isabel nodded. “Yes, of course.” When another muffled cry floated down the corridor, she turned to Sophia. “We’ll come for the Society leaflet another time.”

“No!” Sophia reached for them, grasping Toby’s arm in one hand and Isabel’s wrist in the other. “Don’t leave, I beg you.”

Toby said, “Surely Miss Osborne has matters in hand. Or would you like me to summon another physician?”

Sophia shook her head. “It’s not Lucy I’m concerned for. Hetta says her labor is progressing well, if a bit slowly. That’s normal with first babes, she says. No, it’s Jeremy who needs looking after.”

“Jem?” Toby flicked a glance toward the salon. “He’s already here?”

“Yes. Gray and Joss are there with him, but I think he’d be glad for the company of a friend. He’s not taking this well, I’m afraid.”

A long, piercing scream interrupted their conversation. All eyes rolled ceiling-ward.

“No,” Toby said finally, staring at the stamped plaster. “I can imagine Jem wouldn’t be taking this well at all.”

“Did you say Joss is with them?” Isabel asked. Sophia nodded, and a speaking glance passed between the ladies. “Oh, dear. This must be torture for him.”

Toby thought it rather sounded like Lucy was the one being tortured. He himself wasn’t overly concerned, seeing as how his three sisters had survived ten noisy births, collectively, and he knew Lucy to be hardier than any of them.

But then—he took the briefest moment to imagine these were Isabel’s cries of pain. He immediately shared Jeremy’s unease. Now each small moan and whimper had him wincing like a kick to the gut. How much worse for Joss, who had lost a wife in childbirth?

Sophia squeezed his arm. “Please, just sit with them.” Imploring him with watery blue eyes, she tilted her head toward the salon. “Try to convince Jeremy that all will be well. Keep his mind occupied with other things. Just… Toby, just be yourself. More than anyone I know, you have a gift for putting people at ease.”

Words failed him for a moment. Of all the people he hadn’t expected to hear praising his character, the woman who’d run away rather than marry him was at the top of the list. At length, he gave a mute nod of assent.