A Lady's Promise by Raneé S. Clark

Author:Raneé S. Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2023-08-07T14:26:54+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Isabella stared down before her at the fillet of beef in what was likely a rich, delicious mushroom sauce. She pushed some across her plate, glanced at Preston sitting beside her, and tried to ignore the turning of her stomach. She’d been able to take a few sips of the bisque and one bite of the fish. Her conversation with Preston earlier that afternoon was heavy on her mind.

He’d barely suppressed a smile when he’d said, “I’ve spoken with Mrs. Phillips.”

Isabella had pressed her lips together, waiting to hear his report from the housekeeper over the gossip. What did he find funny about something that could derail his plans to leave her an inheritance? The grand wedding, the stories he made sure were talked of so no one doubted his love for her—he’d been so insistent that any little whisper of the true nature of their agreement could endanger their plans if Mr. Baxter heard the stories and used them to throw suspicion on Isabella. She didn’t want to believe Mr. Baxter capable of scheming to take away the inheritance Preston wished to give her, but Preston’s suspicions on that score hadn’t seemed to lessen. Given the brothers’ history, could she blame Preston for not trusting Prince as readily as she had?

“It seems the new maid—Della?” he asked. Isabella had nodded, though she’d heard the girl’s name only a few times. “It seems she’s very fond of Stanley, the footman.”

“Oh” was all Isabella could say.

Preston had coughed just then, which she thought was very suspicious timing.

The evidence of her horrible misunderstanding was now all around her. Lukewarm tea had arrived when she’d ordered it after her visit with Preston. An air of disapproval had swirled around Margie as she prepared Isabella for dinner—a mark that Isabella had truly done wrong since her maid was usually unfailingly loyal to her. The footmen were stiff and avoided eye contact. She was not at all certain the cook hadn’t done something to her food.

She couldn’t stop the horrible guilt from sitting in her stomach, leaving no room for food, even if it hadn’t been sabotaged. Mr. Baxter had been completely right, and in the fog of her worries, Isabella hadn’t stopped to consider that the servants might be as loyal to her as he’d claimed.

To top it all off, despite Preston insisting he was well enough to come down for dinner, he looked gaunter than she’d ever seen him. He’d been served only broth and bread, which he’d eaten little of, and his eyes kept glazing over, keeping him from any real conversation with anyone at the table.

How could she eat dinner when he must be very near to . . . leaving her?

“Isabella?” Mr. Baxter’s voice drew her attention away from her plate and her dismal thoughts. He beamed at her. “Shall we have Nurse Higgins play for us this evening? I think we are all in need of something lively. Don’t you agree, Mrs. De Vries?” He gave a fleeting glance to Isabella’s aunt but turned his gaze back to Isabella.

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