Chapter 10

As Isaac approached the door to Penrose House, he was filled with the anxiety he'd been ignoring the past few weeks. He could no longer avoid thinking of the fact that he was about to be wed—tomorrow—that his life was going to change and not in ways he wanted.

During the journey, he had considered the benefits of having a wife, namely one with Miss Penrose's affable nature. She would be an excellent hostess and would provide a warm counterpoint to his aloofness. Indeed, she would be most helpful to him in London.

At night, in the darkness and privacy of his bedchamber, he'd also thought about the other benefits of having a wife. But the idea of letting Tamsin that close filled him with dread. Because he'd ended up ruining the one other person who'd been intimate with him like that. And if Tamsin knew the truth of that, who he really was, she'd never want to come near him.

She'd been clear about not wanting to marry a rogue, and here he was, forcing her to do just that. He had not changed or reformed as Wellesbourne had done.

Perhaps he should have let her cry off.

He and Miss Penrose had exchanged two letters each, but the missives had been bereft of anything that might indicate how either of them were feeling about their upcoming nuptials. She'd asked about his arrival date, and he hadn't been able to tell if that troubled her. Granted, he hadn't asked. He deemed it better to save their conversations about the marriage for when they were together in person. That moment was upon them.

Isaac knocked on the door, and a few moments later was greeted by a white-haired housekeeper with rosy cheeks and dark brown eyes that creased at the edges. She looked to be a cheerful woman who smiled often. Since this was where Tamsin lived, Isaac expected nothing else.

The housekeeper's eyes rounded. "You're here at last!" Her lilting Cornish-accented tone carried happiness as well as a tinge of relief.

"I am Droxford. I regret my late arrival." He'd hoped to arrive earlier in the day, but there had been rain yesterday, and it had slowed their progress.

The housekeeper gestured for him to move inside as she opened the door wide. "I am Mrs. Treen. Tamsin will be delighted you're here."

Isaac removed his hat and gloves, and the housekeeper offered to take them as she closed the door. He delivered the items to her and looked about the dark-paneled entry hall. "Is Miss Penrose available to greet me?" he asked.

"Certainly. However, Mr. Penrose has determined that you must see him first. I'm to show you to his study upon your arrival. If you'll follow me?"

Isaac wanted to insist he see Miss Penrose first, but he didn't wish to trouble the housekeeper. Her employer had set her a specific task, and he wouldn't ask her to go against that.

Tension bunched his shoulders as he anticipated the coming interview. Penrose had responded to his letter regarding the wedding plans with irritation. His response had said that Isaac should have asked permission to wed her, and that she'd already been nearly betrothed to someone else. Isaac hadn't bothered replying.

Following Mrs. Treen through the house, Isaac determined the structure to be at least a hundred years old. It was in good condition, but some of the walls could use new paper and paint. The furniture, while nice, was somewhat out of fashion. The only reason Isaac knew that was because of comments his aunt had made about the furnishings at Wood End. She tried to keep things elegant and fashionable as well as comfortable, but her husband had not always been in favor of spending money on such things. Isaac hadn't replaced a single piece of furniture since taking up residence four years ago.

Would Miss Penrose wish to update things? He had to think she'd want to put her mark on the home she would manage. Had she been allowed to do that here?

The study was in the rear corner of the ground floor. Mrs. Treen stopped before a dark wood door. She hesitated before knocking, and her jaw seemed to tense.

Isaac heard footfalls before the door opened to reveal Tamsin's father. He was several inches shorter than Isaac and possessed a thin, rather tired-looking face.

Mrs. Treen dipped her head slightly. "Begging your pardon for disturbing you, Mr. Penrose, but you asked to see Lord Droxford as soon as he arrived."

Penrose's gaze fixed on Isaac. "This him? Must be. Come in." He turned away, and Isaac exchanged a look with Mrs. Treen.

"Go on," she whispered. "I'll let Tamsin know you're here." She gave Isaac an encouraging smile as he moved into the study.

The door closed behind him with a swift snap. Isaac glanced back, surprised that they'd been shut inside. Was this to be a sensitive interview?

Penrose had moved to the other side of his desk. Was that because he felt most comfortable there? He was clearly in the midst of something, given the books and papers spread across the desk. Or did he want a barrier between them for some reason?

"It's past time you arrived," Penrose said gruffly. The downward pitch of the man's brown brows and the irritated twist of his lips, along with his dark tone, gave the impression he was annoyed—just as his letter had sounded.

Already inclined to find fault with the man based on his letter, Isaac worked to summon a pleasant expression. Or at least a placid one. "I am glad to make your acquaintance. I regret I was not able to arrive sooner."

Penrose's frown deepened. "I must say I am disappointed in the lateness of your arrival."

Isaac tried not to scowl. "My letter indicated I had a great deal of business to attend at my estate."

"Don't you have an adequate steward to manage things for you?"

Isaac's ire stirred. He'd spent much of his youth explaining himself, or, more accurately defending himself, to his father, and he wasn't going to do the same with this man he'd just met. Even if he was to be Isaac's father-in-law. "I have an excellent steward. However, my presence was required. If you are concerned that your daughter is less important to me than my estate, rest assured that I will place her welfare above all else."

Penrose stared at him a moment before letting out a soft harrumph. "I am glad to hear that. If you truly mean what you say, you will allow Tamsin to return here in November and to remain through January. She will want to spend Yuletide with those she knows best. She will also need to return in June and stay through August. Through July, anyway, before removing to Weston in August with her grandmother." He said the last with a bit of distaste, as if he didn't care for that arrangement.

Was that what she wanted? She hadn't mentioned anything in the letters she'd sent Isaac, but perhaps she was waiting to discuss this with him in person. He decided the matter would need to be settled with his bride, not her father. "Your daughter and I have not discussed where we will spend Yuletide."

"She is likely too nervous to broach the subject," Penrose said. "Which is why I wanted to mention it to you. She may not convey how important it is to her that she spend that time here for fear you won't understand."

Isaac didn't like that she felt she couldn't talk to him about such things. But why wouldn't she feel that way? They'd become betrothed to avoid a scandal and had spent no time together since. There was a great deal they hadn't discussed and should.

Did Isaac care if she preferred to spend half the year in Cornwall? Neither of them wanted to marry, so perhaps this was an acceptable solution. "If spending that much time here will make Miss Penrose happy, how can I refuse?"

"Miss Penrose?" her father asked. "Is that how you address your soon-to-be wife?"

Isaac hadn't ever called her Tamsin or even thought of her by her given name. He supposed he ought to start, at least with the latter. "Until we are wed, yes."

"Very proper of you," Penrose muttered. "I'm pleased you value my daughter's happiness. I am not, however, pleased with how you behaved in Weston. You should have asked for my permission to wed my daughter."

Irritation pricked at Isaac once more. "You said as much in your letter. However, she is of an age that doesn't require your permission. I understood your disapproval when I received your letter."

Penrose gave him a particularly sour look. "Since you did not respond, I wasn't sure if you did. Your treatment of my friend was abominable. Did you send him an apology as I suggested?"

"I did not," Isaac said firmly. "The man touched your daughter—rather roughly—without her consent. Surely, she explained all this to you?"

"She did, and I said it was likely a misunderstanding," Penrose said defensively. "Brimble was only trying to settle the betrothal with Tamsin."

Isaac tried to cling to his patience. "I daresay Brimble's account was one-sided. Your friend tried to grab her, and I warned him against doing so again. Recklessly, he tried a second time, and I was forced to ensure he was not able to make a third attempt."

"That does not sound like Brimble."

How could this man take the side of his friend over that of his own daughter, who probably couldn't fabricate a lie if she was forced to? How did the man not possess a need to protect her and keep her safe that rivaled Isaac's?

"Nevertheless, that is what happened," Isaac said coolly, relieved that he would be taking Tamsin away from her selfish father.

Penrose harrumphed, and Isaac had to muster every bit of self-control not to tell the man that he was being a horrible father. Instead, he said, "I gather you'd hoped the two of them would suit, but they did not. As it happened, I got there first." That characterization was laughable, but it was also necessary.

"And do you suit?"

"Apparently." What else could Isaac say?

"I confess I wonder if your betrothal wasn't entirely due to the presence of some woman who seemed keen to start a scandal. Brimble informed me of what happened." Penrose's gaze had turned accusatory.

Again, Isaac fought to keep a tight rein on his patience. "Not entirely, no. While that was not how Miss Penrose and I would have chosen to announce our engagement, that is, regrettably, what occurred. If not for Brimble's unacceptable behavior, the entire event would not have happened as it did." He took a deep breath as he ignored his own unacceptable behavior—he never should have been in that garden, and yet now he considered that if he hadn't been, what would Brimble have done? "I would appreciate if you could stop focusing on the past instead of the bright future that awaits your daughter." Isaac didn't add as a lady of the peerage, though he was certainly thinking it. What father would not be happy about that?

Penrose's jaw clenched. "Tamsin is my greatest concern. You permitting her to spend the holiday season here as well as the summer will make her happy. She has been moping about since arriving home. She will miss everyone here at Penrose House."

Isaac had difficulty imagining Tamsin moping, but what if she was dreading their marriage? He didn't want her to be unhappy. There was still time for them to cancel the wedding. He'd resigned himself to the marriage, in name only at least. There was simply no other way.

If he didn't marry her, he would be branded a rogue, which he actually deserved. But Tamsin would be ruined, and she did not deserve that. Furthermore, she'd be stuck here with her father who didn't value her and would likely try to marry her off to someone unsuitable again.

At least as Lady Droxford, Isaac could give Tamsin a fulfilling life as mistress of her own house and of a grand estate. She would preside over his house in London, and he could see her reveling in that as she infused joy into a space where there wasn't any.

All that was fine. Excellent, even. But it was still a marriage in name only. He could not be intimate with Tamsin because he would need to tell her the truth so she could fully consent. Which brought him back to why he was going through with this marriage without being honest with her first: because if she knew he was a rogue, she wouldn't marry him, and she'd be ruined. And at the mercy of her father. He was right back where he'd started in that garden three weeks ago—in an impossible situation.

A knock made him and Penrose look toward the door. Before Isaac pivoted, he caught the flash of irritation in Penrose's gaze. He seemed easy to annoy.

"Come," Penrose said brusquely.

The door cracked open a scant few inches. "Papa? I heard Lord Droxford had arrived."

Isaac couldn't see her face. She kept the door nearly closed as she spoke. But just the sound of her voice made his pulse quicken. Time apart had not lessened his desire for her, solidifying that this was indeed an obsession. As much as Mary had been, if not more. And look how that had turned out. He shook away a sense of foreboding.

"He's here," Penrose answered. "Come in, girl. Better yet, take him with you, as I've work to do."

Tamsin pushed the door wider, and at last Isaac saw her. Dressed in a simple, soft rose-colored gown, her brown hair piled into a neat style, she looked even lovelier than he remembered.

Her lips curved into a wide, room-brightening smile. "Droxford, how pleasing to see you."

"Off with you both," Penrose said impatiently.

Isaac looked back toward her father. "Thank you for the opportunity to become acquainted. I am certain we will spend more time together at dinner and of course tomorrow." On their wedding day. He ignored the persistent ripple of anxiety running through him.

Tamsin gestured with her head for him to join her. "Let us go now."

He didn't need to be prompted twice to leave her father's company. When he was outside the study, she quickly closed the door.

"I take it your father prefers his door closed," Isaac said sardonically as he glanced back at the study.

"Always. I hated having to knock just then. He doesn't like to be disturbed unless it's an urgent matter."

He arched a brow. "This was not?"

"Well, it was urgent to me," she said smiling. "But not to him." She waved her hand toward the closed door. "Never mind him now. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm sorry I am arriving so late," he blurted.

"You said in your letter that you had a great many things to see to." She shrugged. "I'm sure you left as soon as you could. Come this way." Without touching him, she led him through the gallery that cut through the ground floor until they arrived in a cozy sitting room.

"I hope you weren't concerned," he said, thinking that arriving the eve before the ceremony was perhaps rogue behavior, which she and her friends disdained.

"I was surprised when my father informed me, but you explained it in your response to me after I asked you about it." She smiled at him. "I understand you're a busy baron."

He was glad to hear she wasn't upset. "Thank you."

They regarded each other in silence for a moment. Was she, like he, trying to determine what to say? When had things become awkward between them?

What a foolish thing to wonder. Their friendship had fractured the moment he'd punched that idiot Brimble.

Isaac spoke first. "I realize we haven't had much time—any time—to talk since…that night at the hotel. I should have called on you before I left the next day so that we could discuss a few things."

"It's all right," she said, magnanimous as ever. "You were already planning to leave, so I wasn't expecting you."

"Everything happened so quickly, and things were tense that evening." Isaac didn't want to prevaricate any longer. He needed to get to the heart of things. "You indicated you wanted to cry off. I shouldn't have discounted your wishes. Do you still want to do that?"

She stared at him, then blinked, her throat moving as she swallowed. "Er, no. I am ready to get married tomorrow. Unless you want to cry off? I confess I did wonder if you delayed your journey because you were having second thoughts."

Isaac hated that she wasn't entirely wrong. "I do not wish to cry off. I am a man of my word." He was also a man who hadn't told her the truth. "What if I told you that I am, in fact, a rogue? That I've done things of which I am not proud. Things that would likely make you want to run as far away from me as possible. But please don't ask me what those things are. They are in the past."

It took her a moment to respond, and Isaac feared she was going to change her mind. Feared? He should want her to.

"The fact that you are worried and that you say those things are in the past tells me everything I need to know," she said quietly. "If you ever were a rogue, you are clearly reformed. I am not running anywhere."

They were getting married. He'd given her the chance to cry off, and she hadn't taken it. Relief washed through him, which proved he hadn't reformed at all.

"Do you still wish to leave tomorrow after the breakfast?" he asked, trying to divert his thoughts. Though they'd agreed to that in their correspondence, Isaac wanted to make sure she hadn't changed her mind, particularly since, according to her father, she was having a hard time leaving.

When she didn't answer immediately, Isaac took that to mean she was at least torn on the matter. "Why don't we stay for a day or two," he suggested. "Or three, even. We needn't rush off. Then, you can return for Yuletide and Epiphany."

Her brow gently pleated. "Will you be coming back with me?"

Now, he hesitated before answering. "If you want me to, though I may not come for as long as you wish to stay."

"How long?—"

Before she could finish, Mrs. Treen walked into the sitting room and gave them an apologetic smile. "Pardon me for interrupting, but Ellie needs to see Tamsin for some final adjustments to her wedding costume."

Tamsin looked to Isaac. "Ellie is our upstairs maid who also helps me from time to time."

Isaac knew she didn't have a lady's maid because she'd said so in one of her letters. She'd indicated that her housekeeper had said she would need one. Then she'd asked if he'd agreed.

What did he know of what a lady needed? He'd had trouble adjusting to a valet himself. But he'd asked his housekeeper, and she'd been delighted to train a maid for the new lady.

Though he hadn't said everything he needed to, Isaac recognized it would all have to wait. They'd settled the most important matter anyway—that they would indeed be getting married tomorrow.

"I'll take my leave so you can attend to your wedding garments," he said. "I'll see you tonight when I return for dinner." They were to dine here at Penrose House with their friends.

"Until then." Tamsin picked up her skirts and departed, leaving him with the housekeeper.

After Tamsin had gone, Mrs. Treen said, "I confess I was concerned when Tamsin became betrothed so suddenly." She regarded him with unabashed interest, as if she were taking his measure. "But you'll make sure she's all right, won't you?"

"I will."

Mrs. Treen gave him a firm nod. "Good. She looks like the happiest, most cheerful person you'll ever know—and she is, truly. However, there is more to her than that, my lord, and I hope you see that she needs a kind and loving husband who will be her staunchest ally, someone on whom she can depend, no matter what." She started toward the gallery which would lead to the entrance hall. "Your hat and gloves are by the door."

As Isaac followed Mrs. Treen, he considered her words carefully. Of course there was more to Tamsin than her joyful disposition. Just as there was more to him than his brooding seriousness. Not that he let anyone see past that. Would she show him the other side of herself, and if she did, would he let down his guard in return?

He hadn't given any thought to how they were different, and he really should have. Perhaps he was doing her a disservice by shackling himself to her. She was definitely at the poorer end of the arrangement if one considered their personalities.

But he'd given her the chance to cry off, and she'd refused. Their future together, however it progressed, was assured.

Whatever happened, he had no doubt she would be an excellent wife and lady of the manor. He would find a way to ensure her happiness—it was the least he could do.