She shrugged. “Doubtful. We’re in Northumberland. I suspect thetonrarely travels this far north and east much.” She strolled over to the pianoforte but clasped her hands at her lower back. Abra was quite the accomplished musician in her own right and was likely tempted to touch the keys. “Someone plays,” she said. “It’s dust free.”
“Interesting,” Geneva murmured. “Perhaps you’ll be allowed to exercise your skills while we’re here.”
Abra straightened and stalked back to her. “As I mentioned before, my dear, like you, I don’t anticipate a long stay.” Her annoyance was in full form. “Don’t you have some pamphlets to complete for Hannah?”
“When have I ever left anything unfinished?” she returned. “Surely, they have mail service from Northumberland to London.”
“You know how dangerous it is to put such information through the post. And to her home? That isn’t wise.” Her defensiveness was most telling. “If Ruskin—” But she stopped there.
Geneva studied her friend, reminded by Hannah’s words of a date being considered. “You’re frightened he’ll learn what we are about,” she said gently.
Abra’s eyes widened, revealing exactly that.
Geneva took a leveling breath. “I don’t believe the baron reads through his sister’s correspondence. If it makes you feel better, I shall just write and ready the articles for our return.” A relievedwhooshswept the air. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Geneva couldn’t pull her eyes from Abra. “You really care for him, don’t you?”
Her eyes shimmered and she quickly turned away. “I don’t wish to speak of it.” She mastered her emotion, went to the door and pulled it open. “Are you ready for the lion’s den?”
Noah Oshea appeared in the arch like a dark, avenging angel. “‘Lion’s den’?” He echoed as he moved inside. His younger brother and the niece whose name escaped Geneva came into view.
She wanted to sink through the floor. But she was not one to back away from awkward situations. She raised her chin. “I was curious.” She spoke a little too staunchly and caught Abra’s small flinch. “Apologies. I’m not nearly as refined as my friend.”
The young girl had bright-red hair, framing an elfin face with a stubborn chin of her own. She grinned.
“It’s, er, Miss…” Geneva floundered, mortified she hadn’t paid closer attention.
“Isabelle, my lady.” The girl didn’t appear to mind in the least. She dipped a curtsey and gave an infectious smile instead.
“It’s just Miss Wimbley,” Geneva told her. “The ‘lady’ is my friend. Lady Abra.”
Miss Isabelle’s mouth formed a perfect “O.”
Geneva rescued her. “Who is the musician?”
Miss Isabelle’s smile turned shy. “Me.”
“Ah, as is Lady Abra,” Geneva said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Miss Isabelle swung her gaze to Abra. “Truly?”
Abra nodded.
“Oh, may I hear you play?” Abra’s flinch this time was much more pronounced.
Mr. Oshea could have worn a cloak of feathers for all his bristling. “Perhaps after luncheon, poppet. Our guests are surely famished.”
“Oh, yes.” The child’s face turned an engaging shade of pink that clashed with that red hair. “Of course.”
The younger brother grinned, his gray eyes flashing with mischief. “I’m Julius Oshea,” he said. “We came to show you the way to the dining room.”
“All of you?” Geneva nearly moaned. “I, er, mean…”
Julius Oshea went to Abra and held out his arm and bailed Geneva out, saying, “It couldn’t be helped. We were curious.”
Abra shot her a helpless look, but Geneva pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress a smile. The attempt failed and she basked in her friend’s perturbation. Such times were so rare, after all. She gave a little shrug.
Noah Oshea did not offer his arm to Geneva, instead taking Miss Isabelle’s, leaving Geneva to follow. Within seconds, the reason became ultimately clear as he walked with great patience due to a slight limp that exuded from Miss Isabelle’s left foot.
