Isabel looked up at her brother’s words, meeting Lara’s surprised gaze. “Your meeting? What kind of meeting? ”

James seemed to remember that she was there. “A meeting of men.”

She sat back in her chair. “I beg your pardon?”

“We had something to discuss,” James said, simply.

She looked to Nick. “To discuss.”

He lifted his wineglass, making a production of drinking. “Quite.”

“I—” She turned back to James. What could they possibly have been discussing without her? “About what?”

“It’s really none of your concern, Isabel. I asked Lord Nicholas for a moment of his time, as earl.”

As earl?

Her eyes widened at her brother’s words. Mutely, she turned back to Nick, who was having obvious difficulty refraining from smiling. “I could not refuse, Lady Isabel. He is, indeed, the earl. And my host, no less.” He paused, then added, “This mutton is superb, the jelly in particular is excellent. Don’t you think, Rock?”

“I do,” the giant said, and Isabel did not miss the humor in his tone.

She would like to see both of them doused in jelly.

She looked to Lara, noted the amusement dancing in her cousin’s eyes, and scowled in her direction. Unmoved, Lara turned back to James and said, “And you have learned to tie quite an impressive cravat!”

“Oh, yes,” James said eagerly, reaching up to touch the neckwear in question. “Would you like to see me do it again?” Before Lara could answer, James had tugged on one end of his creation, destroying it in an entirely inappropriate display for the evening meal.

As he began his lesson in the proper method of cravat tying, Isabel leaned toward Nick. “As you can see,” she whispered, “my brother may be the earl, but he is in no way able to act as such on his own. I should like you to tell me what it was that you spoke about.”

Without taking his eyes from James, Nick replied, “You.”

Surely she had not heard that correctly. “Me?”

“You.”

“What of me?”

He took his time cutting a sliver of mutton and combining it with a piece of parsleyed potato. He chewed thoughtfully for a long moment, until Isabel’s frustration grew to the point where she could no longer remain silent. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Swallow!”

Nick turned with mock surprise. “Why, Lady Isabel, what forcefulness! You should be careful—you will give me a case of indigestion.”

“And what a sad situation that would be, Lord Nicholas.” He laughed, low and quiet, and warmth spread through her at the sound, audible only to her. “You are enjoying this.”

He met her eyes, and there was no mistaking the heat in his blue gaze. “I confess that I am. In fact, I find that I enjoy all of my time with you.”

Isabel blushed at the words, and the pleasure they brought.

What was he doing to her?

She could not allow him to reduce her to a simpering miss every time they spoke. Clearing her throat, she said, “I must insist, Lord Nicholas. What is it that you and James discussed?”

“You needn’t worry, Isabel,” Nick said. “Your brother is simply concerned about your welfare once he leaves for school.”

Isabel looked to James, awkwardly craning to see his cravat as Rock helped him to complete the elaborate knot. “And why would he think that speaking to you would help? ”

Nick sat back as their plates were cleared, leveling Isabel with a frank look. “He has devised a proposal to keep you safe, and was asking for my input.” He turned back to James, across the table. “Well done, James. That is certainly the best knot you’ve tied yet!”

James grinned his pleasure at the compliment, and turned to receive additional praise from Lara, who was heaping it upon both the young earl and Rock, for his assistance.

Isabel was unable to appreciate the tableau. Brow furrowed, she whispered to Nick, “What kind of proposal? ”

Waiting until Regina had cleared his empty plate, Nick finally leaned in close to Isabel. “He thinks we should marry.”

Isabel opened her mouth, closed it, and repeated the action.

One side of Nick’s mouth kicked up in amusement. “Why, Isabel. I do believe that I have rendered you speechless.”

“I—” Isabel stopped, uncertain of what to say.

“He has contemplated it quite thoroughly,” he said. “He believes that your ability to run a house and calculate your sums makes you an excellent candidate for a wife.”

Surely this was not happening. Not here. Not at her dinner table.

“He is eager for me to see you sit a horse, as well. I am told your equestrian prowess will win me over. I am looking forward to that.”

“I—”

“Also—and this is critical—you are not ugly.” She blinked.

Nick’s eyes danced with amusement. “Remember, Isabel. It was your brother who said it. I would not dare to take credit for such pretty words. I would have said something much more pedestrian. It takes a great orator to come up with—”

“Not ugly.” She gave a little shake of her head. “What a lovely compliment.”

“Ah. You have recovered your voice.” He smiled then, full and winning, and she could not help but match it.

“It would seem so.” She paused, “Tell me, my lord, will school help my brother to learn prettier words with which to woo his future countess? ”

“One can only hope,” he replied, “else we should be very concerned for the Reddich line.”