Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) by Carolyn Jewel

Author:Carolyn Jewel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: england, orphan, music, marquess, revolutionary america, crossdressing woman
Publisher: Carolyn Jewel

Chapter 16

I

Isobel hurried home, clasping her arms to her chest for warmth. It was getting darker and colder by the minute. She and Faircourt had been at the rehearsal hall, working on the revision of her first long piece for fortepiano and violins, and it was nearly seven o’clock before she had even thought to look at the watch Julia had bought for her. The work was coming along so well she had been loath to stop, and it was only her desire not to worry Julia that made her leave. To make things worse, she had been unable to find a hackney cab, so she was forced to walk the distance to Albemarle Street, only it was no longer a brisk evening in March, it was a fully dark and cold night! She considered herself lucky it wasn’t raining. She wanted only to get to Julia’s and change into a proper gown and then go home to her own fireplace. It was easier, and safer by far, for her to change her clothes in one of the unused sections of Hartforde House. To risk being seen at Redruth while dressed as Ian Boxham was unthinkable. At least at Hartforde House Julia could be counted on to provide a rescue if it became necessary. She drew a breath of relief as she let herself in the servants’ entrance, thanking the Lord she hadn’t been set upon by thieves, or worse. She went through the kitchen and came out into the hall that passed a drawing room where a fire burning in the hearth looked too inviting to ignore. It was so bitterly cold her hands were still numb, and she held them as close to the fire as she dared. Next time, she thought to herself, she would see to it that she had an overcoat and gloves. Just as she was about to turn around to warm her back, she was startled to hear a voice behind her.

“You, boy! What’s your name?”

Isobel whirled around, briefly confused, until she remembered she was still dressed as Ian. She suppressed a moment of panic before answering boldly, “Ian Boxham.” She nodded her head toward the enormous figure that stood in the doorway. “I was only warming myself, madam.”

“Who are you?” With her hands on her hips, Mrs. Peaslea’s formidable bulk filled the doorway. “Why haven’t I seen you before?” She had seen Isobel come in the servants’ entrance and, suspicion aroused, followed her down the hall.

“I’m Emma Carlton’s nephew, ma’am. The Lady Julia told me I might stop by of an evening to borrow some books.” Emma Carlton was a former servant of Julia’s, and Isobel hoped their agreed-upon story—in case someone should see her coming in the servants’ entrance—was going to work. It had seemed foolproof when they had settled on it, but now, in front of Mrs. Peaslea, it did not seem so plausible.

“M’lady isn’t at home.” Mrs. Peaslea enunciated each word and crossed her arms over the broad expanse of her chest as she gave her a suspicious look.

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