"No need to apologize, my dear. Mercer tells me you're in some danger. Come sit down by the fire and join me for tea. You look chilled to the bone."

"Thank you for your kindness." Sitting opposite the well-dressed mistress of the house, Isabella stretched her hands toward the fire and luxuriated briefly in the welcome warmth. Abruptly recalling her manners, she turned from the fire. "Forgive me, my name is Isabella Leslie."

Molly looked up from pouring a cup of tea. "Delighted to meet you, my dear. Would you like a wrap against the chill?"

"No thank you. I'll soon be warm with this glowing fire."

"Sugar? Milk? Lemon?"

"Milk and sugar, please." Isabella softly sighed. "How grateful I am to have found a safe haven."

"You must tell me what I can do to help." Molly offered the cup of tea and nudged a plate of tea cakes across the small marquetry table, nearer her guest.

"I'm afraid I don't know what to do. Everything happened so quickly." Isabella took a deep draft of tea, as though needing sustenance before going on. "You see, my grandfather died just hours ago," she explained, "and without warning, my relatives tried to force me into a loathsome marriage to my cousin."

"I'm so sorry. How awful for you."

Shaking away the sadness that overwhelmed her at mention of her grandfather, Isabella wiped at the wetness that had risen in her eyes. "Thank you." Her voice was unsteady. "Even though he'd been ill for some time, the finality of losing him is-"

"Devastating, I'm sure," Molly murmured.

Isabella nodded and blinked away her tears. "And then to have my relatives so cruelly ignore his death…" she whispered. "Can you imagine anyone so unfeeling?"

"There must have been a great deal of money involved."

Isabella's brows arched upward. "How did you know?"

"I've seen much of the world, my dear. Heiresses are ready prey for the unscrupulous."