Chapter 17

Bode sat in the small sitting room of Lord Griswold Smith. He was the brother who had retained the Smith family home, the one they'd owned before their eldest brother had inherited the marquessate. And while he had his own inherited properties, they still conducted business here.

Bode liked the idea of it plenty. But the music room where they'd all collected was a bit tight.

In total there were twelve men around him. The Duke of Ducat, the Marquess of Highgrove, the Earl of Somersworth, the Duke of Upton, the Baron Boxby, the other four Smith brothers, Lockton, Lord James Bancroft, Jack Wit, and himself.

He was still angry at Wit for withholding valuable information when Isabelle had first been rescued, but the man had some very valid explanations and connections that would help keep Isabelle safe.

Though, his name wasn't Jack Wit at all, which was another irritating lie that Bode was still steaming about.

He set that aside, however, as he focused on the men in front of him.

"So we've agreed then. The private amount of the bulk sale will be eighty thousand pounds but the public declaration will be twenty thousand pounds." Highgrove looked down at the notes he'd been reading from, his dark hair falling across his forehead.

Baron Boxby nodded, his kind brown eyes meeting Bode's. "The story will be that the widow, struck by her grief at the sudden loss of her beloved husband, was cajoled into taking a loss to see the whole business done and her affairs settled."

"And the reason for the lie?" Bode asked.

"We want Isabelle to appear a victim, a person we took advantage of, and not part of our organization," the Marquess of Highgrove answered.

"Makem's death happened far enough north that it isn't known yet. But we've only a few more days until it becomes apparent something is amiss," Jack Wit said also giving Bode a meaningful stare.

"With that in mind." Griswold Smith looked at Bode, "We suggest you settle your affairs and head to…"

"Scotland," Lockton rumbled for Bode. "He's going to help me catch up on the farm work I've missed."

The other men smiled, knowing that Lockton groused good-naturedly.

"To move you both out of the city faster," the Duke of Ducat said, his dark handsome looks almost cold in their appearance, "I've arranged for Isabelle's father to have tea at my estate this afternoon."

"Does he have any grounds to stop the sale?" Highgrove asked, leaning forward.

Ducat smiled back. "No. I'm certain he thought, as her father, he'd have control of the assets. But he forgot to factor in that once he gave her away in marriage, he lost that right. Still, he might try to seize some claim. Armstrong and I will take care of that."

"And the sisters?" Bode asked, knowing how important this was to Isabelle.

"The first will be matched before the season. She's of age. The second will go to a school for ladies of her breeding. I'll see both their dowries are set aside and when the younger sister is of age, we'll make a similar match for her. Rest assured that I will not forget."

Ducat moved closer. "And once you"re back, we'll get you positioned in one of the houses if that's what you desire. But perhaps, Lockton will convince you that farming is your true calling."

Bode snorted. He doubted it. He and Isabelle had discussed running a house for women outside of London. Wives of farmers struggled terribly when they were widowed.

But he had plenty of time before making that decision. And while he had wanted to make the welfare of women his primary occupation, for right now, he was only concerned with the welfare of one. Isabelle. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm ready to leave for tea whenever you are."

"I'm sure the earl will be thrilled to meet his next son-in-law." Drake laughed at that. They both knew the earl would not be pleased. While Makem had been a very temporary evil, Bode had no intention of leaving Isabelle's side until they were both old and grey.

"All the same, I'll let you talk. I'll just glare."

"Rumble," Lockton offered. "You've got a good one."

"Glower," the Earl of Somersworth added, flashing a rakish smile as he swiped back his blond hair. "With the scars, it's very intimidating."

"Do you think Isabelle will forgive her parents?"

Bode shook his head. He honestly didn't know. They'd been so selfish, and yet he'd never heard Isabelle express real deep-seeded anger. "She's a very kind woman."

Jack Wit was the one who answered. "She is exceptionally wonderful. You're a lucky man, Armstrong. Though, it is no less than you deserve."

He appreciated the words and the help of the men here today. They'd done more than start a business…it was a brotherhood.