Page 38 of Isabel and the Rogue

“We’re both taking risks, Miss Luna. With our eyes wide open.”

10

Sirius was convinced the only reason he was extended an invitation to the Fairchild dinner party was that Mrs. Fairchild hoped he would be charmed by her daughter, Annabelle.

He considered this idea now as he sat beside the young lady at the Fairchilds’ dining table, listening with what he hoped was a patient mien as his hostess regaled him with tales of her daughter’s proficiency on the violin. Sirius was quite fond of the instrument…or as fond as he could be with only the most basic knowledge of violins, aside from the lovely music they produced when coaxed by a deft hand. According to her proud mother, Miss Annabelle Fairchild was one such musician.

“When dinner is over and the men enjoy their after-dinner drinks, Annabelle will have to play for you, Captain Dawson.” Mrs. Fairchild gazed at her daughter, wide eyes filled with hope. “Once you’ve heard her exquisite skill, I’m sure you will agree with my assessment that there is no more beautiful sound.”

“I have no doubt that you’re right, ma’am,” he said with ready agreement. Turning his head, he found Miss Fairchild with an all-suffering expression, and Sirius suspected she was long used to her mother’s machinations.

Sirius patted his mouth with his napkin and angled his chair toward her to ask, “Do you enjoy playing in public?”

Miss Fairchild snorted softly. “Do you want my honest answer, Captain Dawson, or my polite one?”

“I’m flattered you feel comfortable enough to ask.” He flashed what he knew to be his most winning smile. “And I will always fall on the side of honesty over politeness. Surely you’ve noticed that politeness can mask all manner of uncomfortable truths under its veneer of good manners.”

“Oh yes. This is my third season out, you see, and in that time I’ve noticed the need to maintain an air of gentility is more important than actually rectifying errors.” The corner of her lips curved. “And as you’ve noticed the same, allow me to state that I despise playing for a crowd.”

Sirius blinked. “Despise? That’s a strong word, Miss Fairchild.”

“It is. But then it’s easy to sour on something that you’re forced to do rather than what you want to do.”

That was certainly true. And abruptly Sirius was reminded of Isabel. Of how fiercely determined she was to move forward with her assignment, not because she was ordered to see to the task, but because she wanted to. When was the last time he had sought to do something simply because he wanted to and not because he felt compelled, by guilt and shame, to?

He coughed into his napkin and collected his thoughts as he arranged it again in his lap. “Tell me, Miss Fairchild, are you acquainted with Miss Isabel Luna?”

The young woman quirked her head at the change of subject, but her gaze slid to where Isabel sat on the opposite end of the table. She had been situated across from her sister, between Lady Yardley and an elderly baron, and Sirius had watched her throughout the evening, noting that while she smiled and nodded politely as Lord Palmer rambled on at her, Isabel rarely spoke herself. He’d been aware of her shyness in public before, but had not thought deeply about it. But now Sirius couldn’t help but recognize how unsettled she was in social situations. He knew Isabel could be charming when she chose to be, for he’d certainly seen the effects of her charisma on Lord Westhope. Yet more often than not, it appeared Isabel was simply uncomfortable in crowds.

He itched to scoop her up and take her away from this infernal gathering. An altogether uncomfortable and foreign urge he’d never experienced before.

“I have not yet had the pleasure, Captain, but had hoped to do so after dinner,” Miss Fairchild said, drawing his attention back to her.

Sirius took a sip of wine to wet his lips. “The reason I ask is because I think you and Miss Luna would get along well together. Her sensibilities seem a good match for your own.”

And they did. Sirius suspected Isabel would enjoy Miss Fairchild’s calm, matter-of-fact demeanor. Selfishly, Sirius also hoped that by having a friend she could converse with during such social engagements, Isabel would feel more comfortable in them.

“Is she forced to perform as well, Captain Dawson?” Miss Fairchild asked with an arch of her brow.

“Aren’t all young ladies expected to perform while in company?” he volleyed back.

Her chuckle was light and melodic, and Sirius offered her a genuine smile. Yes, perhaps she and Isabel would make good friends.

Sirius slid his eyes to where Isabel sat down the table, stifling his surprise when her gaze collided with his own. She didn’t smile; merely stared back at him with an emotionless expression. He had thought that after their discussion in the park, Isabel might put aside her animosity and be more genial with him. They were working together, after all. But Isabel stared back at him as if he were just a man she passed on the street. Whatever was that about?

The main course was served then, and Sirius was not permitted further opportunity to ponder it. Mrs. Fairchild, and to a lesser extent Annabelle, monopolized his conversation for the rest of the dinner. The older woman was loquacious but gracious, if a bit direct about her desire to see Sirius court her daughter, but then he was experienced in deflecting the attentions of marriage-minded mamas. He was polite in his replies but noncommittal, and managed to contain his amusement anytime Annabelle rolled her eyes or mumbled tart replies to her mother’s words. Sirius had never made a hobby out of conversing with unmarried young ladies more than what was required by etiquette—Isabel being the only young woman he’d truly desired to befriend—but he found he genuinely liked Annabelle Fairchild, and hoped she and Isabel were able to form a friendship.

After dinner, the men retired to Fairchild’s study, where they were plied with the finest cigars from his humidor and offered tumblers of his best brandy and whisky. Sirius didn’t recall much of the conversation, his eyes too busy mapping out the room and its contents. When he finally met with Isabel later in the night, he wanted to be able to tell her how the room was situated so her search would not be wasted fumbling about unnecessarily.

Plus, earlier that day, Lieutenant Colonel Green had asked that Sirius include a layout of the room when he delivered his next report, stating that it would be useful should they want to search Fairchild’s London townhome in the future. This request was made after Sirius had taken the better part of their hour-long meeting to persuade Green to put aside his anger over Sirius’s offer to assist Isabel’s quest. The lieutenant colonel had eventually calmed when Sirius had explained how it could assist his own assignment with Westhope…and Sirius had consented to the older man’s list of safeguards meant to protect not only Isabel, but British intelligence, as well.

Thus, Sirius’s interest perked when he observed Fairchild extract a key from an urn filled with an assortment of lilies on a pedestal table behind his desk. When the man glanced about to see whether anyone had noted his movements, Sirius carefully averted his gaze to the glass in his hand, studying it as if the amber liquid contained the answers to his many unasked questions. Once the man was assured no one was paying attention to him, Fairchild used the key to open a small safe just visible under his desk. Sirius could not make out what its contents were, but after locking the safe again, the older man passed around a small silver case containing a brown powder. Sirius endeavored to keep his expression impassive, although the idea of sampling snuff made his stomach turn. The substance reminded him of his time spent near Varna, sitting around a fire with his men, jesting and laughing about the most inane topics. But inanity…along with liquor and snuff, helped dull the memories from playing across their eyelids every night.

When the snuffbox made its way to him, Sirius shook his head and held up his glass. One such vice was enough.

Eventually, Fairchild returned the snuffbox to his safe, and Sirius pondered briefly why the man kept the item there. Was the silver container a family heirloom? A sentimental gift? Whatever the reason didn’t matter, for what really mattered was discovering what else was hidden in the compartment along with the silver box. A smile threatened to spread over his lips as he considered how delighted Isabel would be when she learned about the hiding spot later in the evening.

Eventually the men rose to their feet and joined the company of the women in the drawing room. Sirius was one of the last to enter, finding the women engaged in small groups throughout the room. His gaze searched out Isabel, finding her tucked onto a narrow settee with Miss Fairchild, the two women’s heads turned toward each other, apparently in deep conversation. As if she sensed his regard, Isabel glanced up and met his eyes. Her expression remained calm, but her gaze narrowed on him. She had seemed almost ambivalent about him during dinner, but now Isabel was glancing back at him warily. Had he done something to upset her?