“I feel it’s my responsibility to inform them that you once burned down a kitchen,” James whispered to Isobel while he watched her kneading bread dough in the kitchen.
“It didn’t burn down,” Isobel reminded him with a glare that held little annoyance or anger.
It was the day after the attack, and Isobel, James, and Charles had all agreed that going for their usual morning ride might not be the smartest idea, and the rain that was blanketing down had firmly settled the matter. Guards had been placed at all the mansion’s entrances, and while Alexander had become Charles’s shadow, James was watching over Isobel. Edward was still sleeping, but Isobel was sure that when he woke up, several of the guards keeping watch around the mansion would be called to guard him personally. His self-impor
