The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,18

open. Her groom stood there, his pale face wreathed in worry.

“Randolph? What is it? Is it Hellion?”

“There’s been a fire, my lady,” he said. “Hellion is safe, but others in the mews have not fared so well. Someone left a lit cheroot and the hay caught fire. The blaze was contained, but the smoke is still thick.”

She descended and made to dash around the back of the residence to the mews, but the groom cleared his throat and blocked her way. “It’s not safe, milady.”

“Randolph, move,” she said with a glare when he wouldn’t let her pass.

Clarissa tugged on her sleeve. “He’s right, Isobel. The men will have been instructed to keep anyone away for safety. Especially the lady in residence.”

“But Hellion…” Perhaps it was silly, but Isobel needed to see her mare. She needed to hold her, make sure she was all right. Hellion had become so much more than a pet to her. The horse was family.

“I know,” Clarissa soothed. “Randolph has told you she’s fine. Listen to him.”

Isobel bit her lip and nodded. The groom, seemingly mollified that she would stay put, disappeared back to the stables.

But the worry would not leave her as they entered the house.

Struck with an idea, she raced upstairs then discarded the dress she’d been wearing, shucked on a pair of old trousers, a linen shirt, a brown coat, and worn boots that she’d used to train Hellion at Kendrick Abbey. All things she could get dirty.

Clarissa gasped as she made to leave her chambers. “Izzy, what are you doing? You cannot run down willy-nilly to the mews dressed like that. This isn’t like in Chelmsford where you could do as you please. It’s not proper. Even I know that.”

Isobel knotted her hair and tucked it into the tweed cap she held in hand. “There,” she said, ignoring Clarissa’s disapproving glare. “I look like a boy. No one in society will know and all proper female reputations will be guarded from infamy and shame.” Isobel glanced down at herself with a grin. “Never thought I’d thank the heavens for my nonexistent chest and stick-figure body.”

“If I can’t stop you, at least wear this.” Clarissa fumbled in her pockets and handed Isobel a gray square of cloth that had ties on the sides. “The maids use it for dusting.”

Isobel narrowed her gaze. “Why do you have it?”

“I might have nicked it to do some snooping,” Clarissa said, cheeks pink.

Snooping where? The only people in residence were the two of them, the twins, and the duke, and Oliver, from time to time. Curious, Isobel wanted to press the issue and Clarissa’s obvious secrets, but she also wanted to check on Hellion. She narrowed her eyes on her friend. “This isn’t over. Confessions on the snooping when I return.”

“Isobel…”

“I know, I’ll be careful, I promise.”

She fastened the cloth and raced downstairs to the kitchens before jogging to the mews. As she’d expected, no one spared her a second glance. She was dressed like every other servant running around and carrying buckets of water. The men all had rags tied around their noses and mouths. The stench of smoke was heavy in the air as Randolph had said. She located him where he stood next to a smoking paddock and tapped him on his shoulder.

“What are you standing around for, boy?” he snapped. “Get a bucket and get to work.”

Isobel realized he would not recognize her behind the cloth that obscured most of her face and the cap kept her eyes in shadow. “It’s me, Randolph.”

His round eyes widened as he took measure of her and matched her voice to the image she presented. “My lady!”

“Just call me Iz,” she whispered. Randolph’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and Isobel sighed. “You’ve seen me in breeches for years, Randolph.”

“But you’re in town, my lady.” He lowered his voice to a horrified whisper. “And the duke is in residence.”

“Well I couldn’t wear a gown, could I?” she said. “Now stop being dramatic and take me to Hellion. You won’t get into trouble with the duke, I swear it. Kendrick won’t even know.”

“And your husband?”

She scowled. “Take me to my horse, Randolph. I won’t ask again.”

Randolph stared at her as though waging a mental battle, but then with a terse nod, he obeyed her command without another word. Isobel knew she was treading a dangerous line, and she understood the man’s trepidation around the imperious Duke of Kendrick, whose strict observance of propriety was well-known. Isobel suspected