Dawn at Emberwilde (26 page)

He sneaked one more glance at Miss Creston. If he were truthful, it was the idea of Miss Creston that prevented him from entertaining the idea of Miranda. Bradford said something to her, and again she smiled. Perhaps she was happy in her arrangement, but he could not be. Something in him had changed since meeting Miss Creston. True, their interactions had been limited to formal conversations and the occasional impromptu discussion. But her
very presence had awakened the sorts of feelings he had long since buried.

As if reading the thoughts running through his mind, Miranda said, “If it is Miss Creston who is the object of your affection, I daresay you have competition.”

Colin followed Miranda's gaze back to Bradford, whose head was thrown back in obnoxious laughter. He sat too closely to Miss Creston. He commanded her attention too possessively.

Miranda straightened as the small audience rose from their chairs and began to move about the chamber. “I notice Mrs. Ellison is offering no reprimand of his shocking display. But then again, she likely has little problem with this arrangement, for if she did, she would have the two of them separated so fast your head would spin. She's always had a soft spot for him, you remember.”

Signaling the end of their conversation, Miranda stood and crossed the room to a group of ladies.

She was right. Mrs. Ellison had always favored Bradford. And now, judging by the interaction he was witnessing, Mrs. Ellison thought him a good match for her niece.

When the other young ladies approached Miss Creston, Bradford stood, bowed an exaggerated bow, and looked around for another conversation partner.

Bradford's watchful eyes landed on Galloway.

A pinch of annoyance turned Colin's stomach. He stood, realizing that he was too late to escape, for Bradford was headed his way.

He braced himself for an unpleasant conversation. On his way over, Bradford took a glass of brandy from a footman. Then he stood shoulder to shoulder with Colin, their backs to the wall, and scanned the activity in the room.

“Enjoying yourself, Galloway?”

Colin nodded.

“I heard about that nasty business after the boxing bout. You
look to be recovering all right, though. It's a sad sign of the times when a man must be wary walking to his home, is it not? But I don't suppose I have to tell you that, being the magistrate and all.”

Colin bristled. Part of him wanted to ask Bradford how he knew about the attack and what he had heard. It was odd that the attacker had given him such a physical warning then failed to follow through after Colin so obviously disrupted the cavern.

Did Bradford know about the tunnel? He'd lived on the property for several years now, and Colin could not help but wonder.

At length, Bradford spoke, a wry grin curving his lips, his eyes fixed on Miss Creston. “She's a lovely addition to Northrop, is she not?”

Colin did not want to discuss Miss Creston with Bradford. The mere mention of her raised a defensive warning in his mind. He only responded, “She is.”

Bradford gave a low, dry laugh. “You say that so unenthusiastically. There is not a doubt in my mind that you have noticed her.”

Noticed her? Little else had occupied his mind since last seeing her in the forest. The very thought of her tugged at him. He could not forget the expression in her eyes. She was searching. Wandering.

And he could relate to that empty, desperate ache.

Colin cast a glance toward Bradford from the corner of his eye. The other man's expression was hungry too. But it was a lustful, selfish hunger.

Bradford continued. “She is beautiful. And charming. And her story is most interesting. I hope to be able to learn from her about her experiences at her school so that I might apply them to the foundling home. As I am sure you have heard, her help has become quite indispensable to me. Quite honestly, I don't know how we managed without her.”

Bradford was attempting to incite jealousy, but Colin's concern
for Miss Creston grew. The desire to protect her from Bradford's chameleon-like nature burned brightly within him.

He listened to Bradford praise her beauty. Her clever wit. Her keen sense of humor and attractive innocence. He remembered Bradford saying similar things about Miss Ellison before her engagement had been announced. Perhaps Bradford's interest in Miss Creston was genuine. Any man would likely be drawn to her, though Colin suspected it was the Ellison fortune, prestige, and net worth that Bradford found most alluring.

But then the topic took a turn.

“I hope you don't mind my saying so,” Bradford started, the tone of his voice growing sober. “But I have seen you and McKinney in Emberwilde Forest, lurking around like you're stalking prey. What are you doing there? Playing hunters?”

Colin's jaw clenched at the snide joke, but he would not let Bradford get the upper hand. “Like I told you. There is suspicious activity in the forest, and we have been investigating.”

Bradford's thick eyebrow rose in patronizing interest. “Oh? Are you still about that business?”

Colin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. There was no need to hide the fact the investigation was intensifying. Besides, it was in Bradford's backyard, a place where children played and learned. Now that he was aware of a possible threat, he owed it to the children to notify Bradford of foul play, even if it was only a suspicion. His only concern was regarding how much information he should share.

“We were investigating the forest the other day, and we discovered a tunnel.”

Bradford's voice was rich with surprise. “What sort of tunnel?”

“An underground tunnel. It ends in a shed on the foundling home grounds.”

“On our property?”

“Yes, a shed in the back garden. The door lifts up into the shed's floorboards. It has one window and is rather small.”

Bradford frowned and shook his head. “I know it. I don't think anyone but the groundskeeper has been in the shed in years. I've never even been in it.”

“Well, as I said, there is another entrance to the tunnel. But I thought you needed to be aware.”

Bradford stiffened, but any trace of sincerity fled from his voice. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“If you see anything of a curious nature, please notify me. I think we have the situation in hand, but any information is always helpful.”

Colin was grateful to end the conversation on a business note as opposed to a discussion about Miss Creston. He stepped away, but he was far from comfortable—or relieved.

But then something made him stop. The memory of the pocket watch burned in his mind. Bradford was just the sort of well-dressed man who would be in possession of such a quality piece. He turned toward Bradford. “Do you by chance have the time?”

Bradford shrugged. “Sorry. I don't have a watch with me. I'm sure Wasson has his. He's right over there.”

“Of course.” Colin smiled in parting, but his mind was beginning to fit pieces together. Perhaps Bradford was not as ignorant as he proclaimed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

L
ate that night, or perhaps very early the following morning, the rain stopped. The intermittent clouds cleared just enough to allow the white moonlight to stretch to the ground in fleeting glimpses. Isabel checked on Lizzie as soon as she returned from the Atwells and found her sister asleep in her chamber.

Her mind was alive with the evening's events as Burns helped her undress and unpin her hair. Burns stoked the fire before leaving, and Isabel moved next to the blaze to brush her hair, each movement slower and sleepier than the previous.

She indulged in a yawn and stretched in preparation to retire. A knock sounded at her door.

“Yes?”

Her chamber door cracked open, and Constance stepped inside. “Are you to bed yet?”

Isabel lowered her brush. “Not at all. Come in.”

She rarely saw Constance with her hair down. If it were possible, her cousin was more beautiful now than ever. Instead of carefully controlled curls and elegant gowns, she was in a simple white sleeping gown. It was nice to see her cousin in an unpretentious state, one not overly manicured or primped. She seemed approachable, more vulnerable.

Constance hurried over to Isabel, drew a small ottoman closer, and sat down. “It is so nice to have another woman my age to talk to after such an evening! My sisters and I used to gather and talk
about the night's details. But then, one by one, my sisters left, and I have been alone with no one to talk to. But now that you are here, I thought we could start our own tradition.”

Isabel smiled in response. She understood the idea of camaraderie. The idea of starting a new tradition appealed to her. She returned her brush to the small table next to her and moved closer to her cousin, enthusiasm shaking off her sleepiness.

Constance stretched her fingers toward the fire and sighed. She slumped her shoulders in an uncharacteristic lack of decorum.

Isabel was happy she felt so comfortable around her as to shed her pristine manners.

Constance raised her eyebrows. “Did you have a pleasant time tonight?”

Isabel looked to the darkened ceiling as if to relive the evening's experience. “I did. It was unlike any dinner I had ever attended.”

“Well, you might as well grow accustomed to such gatherings, for now that you are here you will find that we spend time with those families quite often. Some more than others, mind you, but it at least gives you an idea.”

Isabel leaned her temple against the side of the chair and looked to the fire. There were parts of Emberwilde that were difficult to adjust to, but evenings such as this were intriguing.

“He is quite taken with you, you know.” Constance toyed with the end of a long lock of hair.

Isabel knew to whom Constance referred. “He is just kind, I think.”

“No, no. I have known Mr. Bradford a very long time. All of my life, in fact.”

Isabel did not disagree, but something in her opinion of him had changed over the course of the evening. “I cannot help but wonder why he has not settled.”

“Oh, some men are restless. I think he is of that sort. He has
proven himself, and has done his bit for humanity in the way of the foundling home.” Constance ducked her head down and to the side, as if to study Isabel more closely. “And yet, I sense that you are not convinced.”

“I suppose the idea is still so very new. I know I should trust Aunt's guidance, but something about him seemed a bit different tonight. I can't quite put my finger on it.”

“But you cannot judge a man by one night's interactions. Think of all that he has done in the past.”

“There are just so many unanswered questions that linger in my mind about his character. Oh, I do not doubt his charms. He has those in abundance, but something about him seems amiss at times. At one point Aunt mentioned that he lost his family's estate. How did that happen?”

“It is a reasonable question.” Constance's countenance sobered. “In the months following his father's death, he made poor choices regarding his finances. It was fortunate for him that Mother and Father believed in him enough to support his endeavors, otherwise who knows where he would be today. A loyalty was forged between the families that cannot be broken. A bond of sorts.”

Isabel gave a nervous laugh. She did not know why she should, at this point, begin to question Mr. Bradford's reputation. “I am sorry if I sound mistrustful. You must know how new this sort of talk is to me.”

Constance waved her hand. “Oh, Isabel, this sort of thing is all I have talked about since I was old enough to form words. My mother has been planning for my marriage for as long as I can remember.”

Isabel wondered what it would be like to have someone fuss over her and plan with her. “I should like to meet your fiancé one day.”

“I've no doubt you will meet him very soon.”

Whether it was because she was tired or growing closer to her cousin, she could not help but ask, “Do you love him?”

Constance flinched, as if shocked by the question, and then her practiced smile returned. “I am very fond of him, which is important. But love is not always necessary for a desirable match.”

The remark, which rang with an air of rehearsed exactness, did not sit well with Isabel. She had always thought that if she married at all, it would be for love.

An awkward silence ensued.

“I must say, you seem awfully quiet on the matter.” Constance playfully arched an eyebrow in Isabel's direction.

An odd sense of self-consciousness washed over her.

When Isabel did not respond, Constance continued. “There were other young men in attendance tonight. Any one of them could be considered extremely handsome.”

“Who do you mean?”

“Oh, I don't know, just thinking my thoughts aloud. You are lovely, and you naturally draw the attention of young men.” She looked down and hesitated before speaking. “But Mr. Galloway was the most handsome, do you not agree?”

Isabel could feel the heat rushing to her face.

“Oh, you poor dear!” exclaimed Constance. “You are blushing, and I had no intention of embarrassing you. But as your cousin, it is my responsibility to keep an eye out for these sorts of things, and I watched him. I daresay that Mr. Bradford could well have competition.”

The memory of her time spent in conversation with Mr. Galloway rushed her. She could almost smell the scent of leather that seemed to accompany him always. “I don't know what you mean.”

Constance laughed. “You can pretend all you want that you do not know what I am talking about, but every woman, regardless of her upbringing, knows when a man is taken with her. Perhaps that is what has put doubts in your mind about Mr. Bradford.”

Isabel bit her lower lip. The memory of Mr. Galloway's hand
on her arm and the warmth in his eyes affected her in a way that no interaction with Mr. Bradford would.