“Yes, I do... But I have not attended many shows.”
“They have a wonderful choir performing in Salisbury Cathedral next week. They posted a notice outside The Bishop’s Arms in town,” Bastian said, brightening. “It’s a charity affair, so many of the locals will be in attendance. An appearance from the duke and duchess would not be out of the question. I’d be glad to arrange tickets if you would all like to go.”
“Thank you. I think I would like that very much,” Isadore murmured, visibly startled by the offer. “But a public outing, so soon...”
“We needn’t tell anyone who you are,” Margaret said. “You can remain Miss Bell for as long as you wish. We will tell any nosy busybodies that you are a friend of mine—which would not be too far from the truth, in so far as our souls are concerned.”
Alexander studied Isadore. The quiet way she answered, the polite detachment in her voice. Were there similarities between them that he could not see? He cleared his throat lightly, wondering if her appreciation for music had been inherited from Celeste.
“Do you like to sing, Miss Bell?” he asked.
“Oh... I sometimes sing, and I do enjoy it, but I am no great songstress, so please do not ask me to sing for you now. At Mr. Graham’s public house, there is often music. Patrons sing almost every evening, but it is rarely in tune. And the songs, well... I should not repeat the lyrics at the dinner table.” She hesitated, her gaze flitting toward him before returning to her suet pudding. “What about you? Do you sing, Your Grace?”
“I’m afraid I was born without the slightest musical inclination.” He paused, wondering why it felt so unnatural to address their familial ties. “My mother—our mother—did not pass her gifts down to me.”
There was a long silence. Alexander worried he had said too much too soon. Quietly, Margaret reached out and discreetly stroked his arm, removing her hand once Alexander acknowledged her, as he had gone so soon that he couldn’t hold it and express his thanks.
“I imagine you both have finer voices than you let on,” Margaret said, picking up her spoon. “I’d like to hear you sing sometime, Miss Bell. Perhaps a duet is in order later. There must be a music room here somewhere. Mr. Hawthorne and I can go first to break the ice. Do you know ‘The Last Rose of Summer’? That one is my sister’s favorite.”
Bastian grinned through mouthfuls of pudding, immediately exploring Margaret’s musical catalogue. In the meantime, Isadore glanced at Alexander, properly meeting his eye for the first time since they’d sat down. For a moment, the veneer she’d kept intact seemed to melt away. There was something uncertain there, vulnerable, or afraid.
But before Alexander could question her, the dining room doors swung open...
And Carlisle strode in, his expression like thunder, eyes searching for Isadore and finding her.
CHAPTER 16
"Have they made any progress?”
Margaret turned from her post at the door, signaling Mr. Hawthorne—though he insisted on being called Bastian, like they were old friends—to lower his voice. She stepped away, giving her ear a much-needed break.
“I could not say,” she replied, drawing them a few steps from the study door. “I can barely hear a word they are saying—well, shouting. And heavens, but thereisso much shouting...” She bit her lip. “You have known His Grace and Lord Somerton much longer than I have known them. Do they usually fight so passionately?”
“There is usually no fighting at all,” Bastian replied, sneaking back over to the door to listen to himself. “I take it Miss Bell is the cause of all this upset. I have never seen Old Carlisle so angry as when he glimpsed her in the dining room, picking away at her pudding.”
“It was lucky His Grace had the good sense to excuse himself and Lord Somerton immediately. Miss Bell does not deserve to witness this. She is not to be blamed.” Margaret looked down the corridor. The house was quiet, except for the muffled arguing from within the study. “Where is Miss Bell now?”
“Retired to her rooms.” Bastian stepped away and leaned beside Margaret on the wall. “May I ask... Oh, but I really should not.”
“And I should not be eavesdropping. This is not the evening forshoulds.”
“How did this affair with Miss Bell come about? Alexander implied she is his sister, but I have never heard mention of another Somerton illegitimate before.”
Margaret gave him a summary of what she knew: Alexander’s investigation, Isadore’s disruption of their wedding, and Carlisle’s resulting wrath.
“Mr. Ripley, you say?” Bastian stroked his short beard once he was done. “No, Alexander never mentioned him to me. But he is more like his uncle than he wants to admit. Secretive, unforthcoming with regards to anything that might genuinely matter in his life. But ask him about the Tories and the man won’t shut up.” He side-eyed Margaret. “Though this development does explain some things. Over the last few years, I wouldn't lie if I said I hadn't sensed a change in Alexander. Surlier than usual—until he met you.”
Margaret wondered whether that was a good or bad thing, keeping the question to herself.
“Has Miss Bell given him good reason to believe that she is his long-lost sister?” Bastian asked.
“It would seem that way, yes. I have not seen the evidence with my own eyes, but His Grace appears convinced that she fits the bill.” The voices from the study died down somewhat, and Margaret tensed. “It is not clear yet what he wishes to do in the case of Miss Bell. Legitimize her, certainly, if she proves herself to be worthy.”
“Do I detect a note of jealousy, Your Grace? Or perhaps that was merely concern?” Bastian choked on a laugh as she gave him an angry look. “One would not blame you for feeling that way. You are just married, and your husband's attentions are now divided between you and this new sister. Perhaps it was a good thing I arrived when I did.”
“Do explain.”
“I could distract Miss Bell for you, attempt to acquaint myself with her, allowing Alexander to focus his time on you rightly. Would you like that? But of course, you would. No freshly married woman wishes to be ignored. And if I glean a few things about Miss Bell in the meantime, would that not be useful to you too?”
