Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (Love By Numbers #2)(8)

“It shouldn’t matter who she is,” Gwen, the cook, argued. “She needs us! We take in girls who need us.”

“She cannot stay,” Kate announced flatly, looking to the others for support.

“Perhaps we could move this conversation away from the poor girl?” Isabel whispered, motioning the whole group back down the hallway.

“She cannot stay!” Kate whispered again as they walked.

“Yes, I believe you’ve made your position clear on the subject,” Isabel said dryly.

“It’s an enormous risk, Isabel,” Jane said when they were back at the top of the stairs, as though Isabel had not thought of it herself.

As though her heart were not pounding with dread.

Of course, it was a risk. One did not simply open one’s doors and offer board to the sister of a duke—one of the most powerful men in England—without his knowledge.

This could end James.

Her brother was only ten years old, a new earl, and he would struggle to escape their father’s reputation. If the Duke of Leighton discovered his sister here—discovered the women who were hidden here under the protection of the Earl of Reddich—James would never survive the scandal.

The others were right. She should turn the girl out. It would be the responsible thing to do. It would protect them all.

She looked from one woman to the next, each of whom had come to Townsend Park under similar circumstances to the young woman she had just left. She could have turned them all away. But she hadn’t. Settling on her cousin, she asked, “Lara?”

There was a beat, as Lara considered her words. “I know the rules, Isabel. I know what we say. But … a duke. It will bring suspicion upon all of us. She … What if someone comes looking for her? What if we are found? ”

Isabel looked in the direction of the room where she had left the sleeping girl. “I imagine that it is more a question of what shall happen when someone comes looking for her. Sisters of dukes are not often allowed to go missing.” She paused, then, “She is increasing.”

Jane let out a low whistle.

“Did she tell you that?” Gwen asked.

“She did not have to.”

“Well,” Lara said, “obviously we cannot turn her out, then.”

Kate disagreed. “She’s no merchant’s daughter. No barkeep’s wife. Not even from landed gentry. She’s an aristocrat, for heaven’s sake. She could be two aristocrats! We should send the girl home to her aristocratic family.”

“An aristocratic family is not always the solution, Kate. I know that better than anyone.” Isabel thought of the deep, dark circles beneath the frail girl’s closed eyes, the hollow cheeks that spoke volumes of this small, mysterious woman.

This girl who was lost and alone.

It was enough for Isabel.

“I’ve never turned a girl away. I shan’t start now. She has a place here for as long as she needs one. We shall put her to work. James is in need of a new governess. I am certain that she will do quite well.”

Kate snorted. “Did you see her? I’d wager she’s never done a day’s work in her life.”

Isabel smiled then. “Neither had you when I took you in. And now you’re the finest stable master this side of London.”

Kate looked away, wiping one hand down her breeches. “Sister to a duke,” she whispered.

Isabel looked at the women crowded around her—to Jane, her butler, who ran a house with the ease of any male servant trained for years; to Gwen, a cook who could have been trained in the best kitchens in London for the pride she took in her work; to Kate, who had a way with horses that rivaled that of the jockeys at Ascot. Each of them had come to Townsend Park under similar circumstances to that of the sleeping girl, each of them had been given room, board, and a chance for a future.

And they had believed that Isabel could face any challenge.

Little did they know.

She was just as scared. Just as uncertain.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and when she spoke, she did her best to infuse her tone with confidence—prayed that the others would believe it. “She needs Minerva House. And Minerva House shall rise to this challenge.”

I hope.

Isabel opened her eyes and shot straight up in her chair.

Her cousin Lara was standing on the other side of the earl’s desk. “Good morning.”

Isabel squinted at the windows, where a brilliant blue sky announced that she had slept well into the morning. She looked back at Lara. “I fell asleep.”

“Yes. I see that. Why did you not attempt such a feat in your bed?”

Isabel tilted her head back, the muscles of her neck and shoulders screaming at the movement. “Too much to do.” She placed one hand to her cheek, removing a small slip of paper from where it had become stuck in the night.

Lara set a teacup down on the desk and seated herself across from Isabel. “What could you possibly have had to do that required you to forgo sleep?” She paused, distracted. “You have ink on your face.”

Isabel wiped her palm across her stained cheek, her gaze falling to the paper she had removed from the same location. She considered the list she had drafted the night before.

The immense list she had drafted the night before.

Her stomach flipped.

She brushed a stray auburn lock back from her face and returned it to its tight, practical home. Guilt washed over her as she was consumed with the myriad of things that she had meant to do the previous night—after taking a quick nap.