“Aye.”
“Come, Isabella!”
Just as she opened her mouth to refuse to heel like a dog, Edward’s voice broke through the increasing murmurs. “Lord Spier, let us repair to my study, shall we?”
One arm secure across her waist, Nicholas guided her forward. “I believe that’s best. We’ll conduct—”
“No, goddammit! What’s best is if my daughter gets herself home where she cannot make such a fool of herself—or me! Come, Isabella! Take off that idiotic scarf and get in the coach. Now!”
They’d reached him—the ringing in her ears confirmed it. “Nay.”
“What?” His astonishment was clear. “You dare defy me? Dare shame me in public?”
“Lord Spier.” Nicholas spoke softly but she swore it sounded like Spider. Imagining the look on her father’s florid complexion at the insult had Isabella biting her cheek to retain her solemn composure. Mayhap that’s why he’d done it… Nicholas, her champion of champions. “The only one shaming themself is you. Let us retreat to the study and conclude our business there.”
“Who in Hades are you?”
Isabella cringed but Nicholas handled the introduction with an aplomb that had her smiling despite her bit-upon cheek. “Nicholas Michael Henry Winten, seventh Earl of Frostwood, ninth Viscount Haverleigh. The man who will be marrying your daughter. Now do we discuss settlements in front of everyone or in the privacy of Redford’s study?”
“Can you make anything out?”
At the whispered words, Isabella muffled a shriek and scrambled to her feet. “Anne?”
“Of course it’s me, silly.” Her friend’s voice held laughter. “You’re listening under the door? What happened to keyholes?”
Isabella’s face heated. “These blasted doors are thick!”
“Think you I don’t know it?” Anne touched her arm and indicated she should follow. “That’s why I learned to listen via the chimneys. Let’s get you settled in the library. I know Frost will want to speak with you privately. What a grand night this turned out to be!”
“Oh Anne, is it really true?” Isabella chafed one upper arm as they sped through the hallway. Chill bumps pebbled her flesh. “Can it be?”
“True as a tuppence, dearest.” The fire crackling in the hearth of the room Anne led her to spread its warmth over every inch of exposed skin the instant they crossed inside. The scents of old books overrode that of the holiday greenery and Isabella inhaled deeply, the smell reminding her of learning and her mother. A sense of calm came over her.
Things would work out now; they had to.
Anne guided Isabella to the leather sofa where both women sat down. “Now listen to what else I learned—your father refused to dower you and Frost fairly snarled in his face, saying Spier’s bloody blunt wasn’t what he wanted. He refused to accept anything but your hand, vowing to stand in favor of some bill your father’s been trying to raise but only if he swears to demonstrate absolute support of you in public. It was that or never show his ‘puffed-up pompous arse’ in London again!”
Isabella smiled past her remaining unease. “Pompous arse? Nicholas said that, did he?”
“And much more.” Anne leaned sideways and hugged Isabella, taking one hand and placing it upon her belly. “Just think, by our next Christmas celebration, you could be the one enceinte.”
Isabella’s face blazed with the heat of a thousand candles, heat that quickly spread downward. Nicholas’ child…in her womb. Easily could she envision such a thing. “Aye, and I’ve you to thank.”
“Pshaw! Think noth—”
“Ladies,” Lord Redford spoke from somewhere near the doorway. “Anne, now that your plans have come to fruition and you’ve proffered felicitations, we still have a great many curious guests to reassure.”
“Your plans?” Nicholas exclaimed as Isabella sputtered silently.
Anne jumped up. “Blame Harriet! She put the notion to me the first time she met Frost.”
“Harriet?” Isabella found her voice.
“She said you’d not be frightened by his scowl and Frost was surely fierce enough to overrule your father.”
“Smart sprite, that Harriet.” Her body listed toward his when Nicholas lowered onto the sofa and drew her close. “Now I’m doubly grateful I salvaged her damn—ah, deuced goose. Please tell the scamp she retains my unending gratitude—after you see your way to shutting the door behind you.”
“Yes, sir!” Edward snapped smartly.