The smile she offered was angelic—and entirely false. “I have survived twenty-four years without a keeper, my lord. I need not acquire one today.”
He had an intense desire to fetch the infuriating woman down and show her precisely how dire her need for a keeper was. The thought had barely formed in his mind before it was chased away by a vision of the soft, beautiful woman in his arms that afternoon—entirely at his mercy. For a fleeting moment, he allowed the fantasy to run its natural course; she was lush and naked at his whim.
He pushed the image away. There was nothing about this woman that was at his whim.
“Considering you were nearly run down this morning and you are dangerously close to toppling off your roof now, forgive me if I do not share your certainty.”
“I was nowhere near the edge before you arrived, Lord Nicholas. Should I fall, it will be entirely on your head.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps quite literally.”
She disappeared again, and the groom actually snickered. Nick gave him a look of lordly disdain, which in no way served to intimidate the insolent pup.
Rock laughed again, tossing the reins of both horses to the boy. “You might as well take them. I think we might be here for a while.”
The servant did not move, too fascinated by the unfolding scene to leave.
Nick turned a scowl on his friend. “The woman would try the patience of a saint. Do you think that she has forgotten that it was she who invited me to the damned house? ”
She peeked her head over the edge of the house once more. “You would do well to remember that sound carries up, my lord. Language, please.”
“My apologies.” He offered an exaggerated bow. “I am not used to conversing with ladies on roofs. The rules of etiquette for the situation have escaped me.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “Even from three stories up, I can tell that you are being facetious.”
He ignored that. “Perhaps you would like to tell us why you are on your roof? ”
“I am learning,” she said, as though it were a perfectly normal response.
“Learning to nearly kill yourself again?”
“How many times am I going to have to tell you that I did not nearly kill myself!”
“I stand corrected. Again. What are you learning?”
“The fundamentals of roof repair. Fascinating, really.” She smiled again; this time, she meant it.
He sucked in a breath. Would he ever grow used to her smiles?
Roof repair?
“I beg your pardon, did you say you are repairing the roof?”
“Well, it certainly will not repair itself, my lord.”
Lovely or not, she was mad. It was the only answer.
He looked to Rock, who was smiling like a buffoon. “She has a point, Nick.”
And her madness was clearly infectious.
“Lady Isabel, I must insist that you come down.” She watched him for a long moment, as though assessing the likelihood of his leaving the estate if she remained roofbound. “I should very like to see your marbles, and will be happy to value them. I should think you would find my offer generous enough to accept? ”
She looked to Rock, then to the stable boy, before heaving an impressive sigh. “Very well. I shall come down.”
Nick could not help the wave of triumph that coursed through him at the words. He had restored normalcy to this tiny corner of Britain.
At least for as long as it would take her to concoct her next mad scheme.
“Lara!”
Isabel tumbled through the tiny attic window that led to the top of the Park, her breeches covered in dirt acquired during her foray into roof repair. Tossing the book she had been using aside, she blew an errant lock of hair back from her face and headed for the narrow stairs leading from the top of the house into the servants’ quarters. Jane, who had been on the roof with her, followed closely behind.
“Jane, you must—”
“All will be ready by the time you are,” interrupted the butler, as they hurried down the long, dark passageway leading to the house’s central staircase and the family wing.
Isabel nodded as Jane peeled away, heading for the stairs, not pausing as Lara topped them, out of breath from the speed of her climb. Throwing open her bedchamber door, Isabel rushed in to retrieve a fresh dress from her wardrobe. She spoke from half inside the furniture, assuming that Lara had followed her.
“I told the infuriating man not to come until tomorrow!”
“It appears he did not listen.”
“No! He did not! Did you see him out there? Affronted! As though I should have been doing nothing but shoving a needle through an embroidery hoop and waiting for him to arrive!”
Isabel held up a yellow day dress that she had always felt rather flattered her figure.
Not that she was interested in Lord Nicholas seeing her in a flattering frock.
Not at all.
“I did not see him,” Lara said, adding, “You’re in mourning, Isabel.”
Isabel grumbled and turned back to the wardrobe, her voice rising. “I’ve half a mind to go down there dressed as I am! It would serve him—and his gentlemanly sensibilities—right!” She gave a vicious yank on a gray walking dress and turned back to Lara. “Of course, that would not do at all, as I am in mourning. As you insist upon reminding me.”
The corner of Lara’s mouth twitched. “You are, of course, right. If you were to go downstairs in trousers, it would be your breach of mourning etiquette that would undoubtedly cause Lord Nicholas alarm.”
Isabel raised one dirty finger at her cousin. “You are not amusing.”