Devilish | Moriarty The Patriot

Chapter 15 | Panic in London

Louise guessed that she had a maximum of twelve hours before Milverton - or whoever the haunting ghost in the carriage was - compiled all of the paperwork and submitted the evidence of her deeds to the Scotland yard. It would be quite amusing if he did not act on his word. But Louise was willing to risk everything. Like hell, she would go to jail. 

So after she threw him out of the carriage, she ordered the carriage driver to continue on its route to Count Taylor's mansion. She had an idea. He would be her guardian. For a while. 

The mansion was a spectacular mass of marble imported from somewhere in Africa. The chandeliers glittered majestically, silk curtains shimmered, and the luxurious color palette of beige interiors swarmed into her vision. Count Taylor was filthy rich. Louise immediately realized that his new leather business would be a side hustle. He was looking for a wife. A high-quality one. Louise realized she held no leverage here. 

Count Taylor strolled into the entrance hall gallantly, wearing a fine suit made of velvet.  

"Lady Isabella Marcelle." He whispered to himself almost, taking in the sight of her. Approval flashed across his face in a courteous smile. 

"Count Taylor," Louise curtsied, blinking rapidly to bring attention to her violet eyes. 

"Please, call me Brandon. Did your father not accompany you today?" 

It was then that Louise recognized that Milverton had set up this meeting and sabotaged her father's participation in today's business meeting. This was amazing. Without her father rubbing his hands together behind her back at all times, she could act freely. 

So she put on a little fit. "I- I wanted to meet you in person... alone. I'm sorry," she became slightly teary-eyed, clutching her arm in a feigned attempt of looking embarrassed. 

Count Taylor raised his chin, not taking his eyes off of her. "Of course... of course." He repeated himself, opening his arms. 

"Come," he continued, quite boldly he strode towards her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and held her arm gently. He was quite tall, and handsome - Louise had to note. He signaled the butler and maids not to follow with the movement of his chin. 

"May I call you Isabella?"

"Anything you'd like." 

"Bella... Isabella... hmm, Isabel seems quite nice." 

"Isabel it is." Louise smiled at him softly. She decided not to lean her head on his shoulder. 

He guided her up a giant staircase. He never let go of her. He was watching her every move. Louise walked with careful elegance, slowly, slowly putting her body weight into his firm grasp. 

More stairs, the moment was almost magical, waltz-like as their climb up the coiling staircase. 

"Would you like to see the garden?"

"That sounds lovely."

He leaned in towards her. Louise craned her neck sideways to allow him to sniff at her neck. "Roses. I dislike this smell." 

"It wasn't really my choice."

"I see." 

"I'd personally prefer the faint spice of Rosemary." 

He hummed in approval. Conversation flew between them. Louise rather enjoyed his presence in the last moments of her freedom. She felt like a queen in a castle. 

Brandon Taylor was a pragmatic and intelligent man. Taking on his father's steel business at the young age of twenty, he grew the business and now reigned over more than a quarter of the entire steel industry. The build of his mansion was complex, and there was a surprisingly large number of turns and small staircases that led to his office and suite.