A Little Mischief Read Online Free Page B

thing he’d wanted to do was visit all the properties and holdings entailed to the title. And, if the gossips were to be believed, he was returning to London from his travels to find a wife and produce an heir.
    Isabella glanced at Gretchen as they waited at the front door. The girl’s lips were gray and her eyes dull and vacant behind her spectacles. Isabella didn’t know how Gretchen was holding herself together.
    It was an impossible situation for anyone, let alone for a young lady of nineteen. Isabella was more than ready to turn this distressing state of affairs over to Gretchen’s brother. Surely he would know what to do.
    They continued to wait as Gretchen’s maid hit the door knocker for the third time. Isabella had wanted to comfort Gretchen in the carriage but knew she couldn’t alert the maid to what had happened. Instead she’d taken the time to shore up her own courage and formulate a way to tell Lord Colebrooke what had happened.
    There was no easy way to say it.
    Unfortunately, Isabella would have to take some responsibility for this accident. After all, Gretchen was in her care when it happened. It could be considered Isabella’s fault that Gretchen had slipped away into the garden to meet with Mr. Throckmorten. It was Isabella’s Reading Society she had been attending.
    And Isabella’s aunt would be considered a terrible chaperone.
    An older, well-dressed butler with an unusually small pinched nose opened the door. Isabella didn’t wait for him to speak. Going against her natural inclination, she forced herself to be assertive and said, “Lady Gretchen isn’t feeling well.” Isabella pushed past him. “Please show us to the parlor at once.”
    “Yes, madam,” the startled butler responded.
    Isabella turned to Gretchen’s maid and said, “Perhaps you should prepare her bed. I think she might need to lie down after she speaks with her brother.”
    The young maid looked at her mistress for approval. Gretchen nodded, and the maid headed up the stairs.
    Isabella kept her hand on Gretchen’s arm as the butler ushered them into the front parlor. He helped settle the trembling young lady on the tapestried settee. Gretchen immediately took off her spectacles and laid them none to steadily on the little satinwood table in front of her.
    Taking charge again, Isabella commanded the butler, “Please summon the earl. If he isn’t here, send someone to find him and say he is needed at home immediately.”
    The portly butler merely said, “Yes, madam, his lordship is home.” He bowed and hurried from the room.
    Looking around the luxuriously appointed room, Isabella spied two crystal decanters and some glasses on a gilt inlaid sideboard. Without a second thought, she walked over and poured a hasty splash of the amber liquid into a glass for Gretchen.
    Isabella was surprised to see that her hand wasn’t shaking, but she felt as if her stomach was quivering and her knees were terribly weak. On the carriage ride over, she had not allowed herself to think about what might happen to her or what would happen to Gretchen if this story hit the London Times.
    Feeling wretched about the whole affair, Isabella sat down beside Gretchen and said, “Drink this. It will make you feel better. Your brother will be here shortly. I’m sure he will know exactly what to do.”
    Gretchen’s hands trembled so badly that Isabella was afraid to let go of the glass, so she helped Gretchen to take a sip of the strong drink.
    “Madam,” came a firm masculine voice from the doorway. “What do you think you are doing?”
    Isabella looked up and brought the glass down from Gretchen’s lips. She rose from the settee and stared into the light-brown eyes of one of the finest-looking men she had ever seen. Not even the furrow on his broad brow could mar the handsomeness of the width of his cheekbones, his wide, well-defined mouth, and his narrow, high-bridged nose.
    He stood tall, commanding, and powerful-looking. He was so