LITMIR.BIZ

      Apart from his superior height and faintly haughty bearing, Isabel could detect no resemblance whatsoever to the handsome young aristocrat whom she had glimpsed all those years ago riding by on a fine bay horse. Yet instinctively she knew that the elegantly attired gentleman framed in the doorway was none other than the late Viscount Blackwood’s younger son, home at last to claim his inheritance and take his rightful place up at the Manor.

      His unexpected arrival had an immediate effect upon all those present. Silence reigned as all eyes turned on the distinguished gentleman who came sauntering languidly into the kitchen, removing his gloves as he did so. Out of the corner of her eye Isabel saw Bessie check in the act of reaching for the rolling pin, which undoubtedly her trusty housekeeper had intended brandishing as a weapon. Surprisingly, even Beau ceased his growling to turn his head on one side to study the new arrival, and Isabel found herself automatically lowering the pistol on to the table, somehow sensing that its use now would not be necessary.

      She continued unashamedly to study him intently as his ice-blue eyes, betraying no emotion whatsoever, flickered briefly over the two unwelcome visitors. Even when he turned his head to study her cousin, still clutching the little girl to her skirts, incredibly there was nothing to suggest that he was possibly viewing one of the most beautiful females he had ever seen in his life. Only when his eyes finally came to rest upon her was there a suggestion of a slight thaw in those cool, strikingly blue depths a moment before he whipped off his hat to reveal a thick, healthy crop of perfectly arranged black locks.

      ‘My name is Blackwood,’ he announced in deeply rich cultured tones.

      ‘Yes, I rather thought you must be,’ Isabel returned candidly, as she felt Josh press against her. Instinctively she raised her left arm to place it reassuringly about the boy’s shoulders, and surprisingly glimpsed what she felt sure was the faintest of twitches at the corner of the Viscount’s thin-lipped mouth.

      ‘Would I be correct in assuming that at last I have the felicity of making the acquaintance of Miss Isabel Mortimer, daughter of the late Dr John Mortimer?’

      ‘Indeed you would, sir,’ she answered, reaching for the hand that was extended to her. She felt it close briefly round her own, warm and comforting. Since his arrival she felt as if she had experienced the whole gamut of emotions. Foremost now was a sense of relief, and an overwhelming belief that this impressive aristocrat would offer assistance if she had the gall to request it of him on so slight an acquaintance. But dared she …?

      ‘And your arrival, my lord, is most opportune,’ she told him, before she experienced any second thoughts. ‘Just prior to your own welcome appearance, my home was invaded by these two persons who are intent upon removing my cousin from under this roof … My cousin who just happens to be in your employ as governess to your wards, sir,’ she finished artfully.

      But would the gambit work? Study him though she did, she could detect no change in his expression, not so much as a suggestion of sympathy in his eyes before they turned from her to the boy still clasped against her, and then flickered briefly in the direction of his younger ward.

      ‘Indeed?’ he said at last in a tone that hovered so perilously close to boredom that Isabel was almost obliged to accept that her audacious attempt to attain his support must surely have failed, when assistance came from a most unexpected quarter.

      ‘And I shall take leave to inform you, sir, that I have every right to do so!’ Mrs Pentecost announced boldly.

      Instantly his lordship’s expression changed. He stared down his long aristocratic nose at the widow, a contemptuous curl to his lip. ‘If I evince any desire to converse with you, madam, you will be under no illusions about it.’

      Even the case-hardened widow was not proof against such a superb put-down, and automatically closed her unpleasant mouth as she retreated a pace or two.

      His lordship’s gaze again returned to Isabel. The contempt had vanished completely from his expression, though just what had replaced it was impossible to judge.

      ‘You have no reason to doubt the authenticity of this person?’

      ‘No, my lord,’ she responded promptly, while dropping her arm from about Josh’s shoulders, as though to convey to the boy that he need have no fear of the tall man standing before them. ‘I have no doubt that she is indeed my cousin’s stepmama. What I do challenge is her right to remove my relative from under this roof. Miss Pentecost was obliged to flee the family home because she was being coerced into marriage with this person.’

      If Isabel’s look of disdain was nowhere near as accomplished as his lordship’s had been a short time earlier, Mr Sloane was left in no doubt about what she thought of him personally. ‘Any man who resorts to coercion in order to attain a wife is beyond contempt. My cousin came here desperately seeking my help, not looking for charity, my lord,’ she assured him, gazing earnestly up at him once more. ‘She is more than prepared to earn her own living and make her own way in the world. Surely she should be allowed to do that?’

      ‘Perhaps,’ was all he said before turning to the widow and her companion, who had gone very red about the jowls since Isabel’s condemnation of his conduct.

      ‘I shall obtain your direction, madam, from Miss Pentecost, and you shall be hearing from my lawyers in due course. No, be silent!’ he commanded, holding up one shapely hand against the protest the widow had been about to utter. ‘If it should come to light that you are indeed legally responsible for Miss Pentecost, be assured she will be safely returned to your home at my expense. If, however, I discover that, for whatever reason, you have been attempting to exceed your authority, then you may be sure I shall take matters a good deal further should Miss Pentecost request me to do so. In the meantime, you have my assurance that your stepdaughter will receive my protection for as long as she remains in my employ.

      ‘Now, if Miss Mortimer has nothing further she wishes to say to you, you may leave,’ he continued curtly. ‘I have matters I wish to discuss with her in private.’

      After being so summarily dismissed, not even the hardened widow dared to utter anything further. Isabel watched them closely before they finally departed and thought she could detect a troubled look in Mr Sloane’s eyes, even if the widow’s remained hard and defiant.

      Lord Blackwood waited only for the housekeeper to close the door behind them before turning once again to Isabel. ‘Clearly I have not chosen the most auspicious of occasions to become acquainted with you, Miss Mortimer,’ he announced, a ghost of a smile hanging about his mouth as he uttered this gross understatement. ‘So I shall call again tomorrow, if I may—say, at eleven, when I shall hope to spend a little time with my wards and discuss certain matters with Miss Pentecost.’

      ‘I assure you, my lord, that will be most convenient,’ Isabel answered for her cousin, who seemed to have lost the power of speech since her stepmother’s unexpected appearance. ‘Please allow me to show you out.’

      Isabel’s final farewell was not protracted, as she too needed time to reflect on the unfortunate happenings of the morning. After closing the front door

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