by Robyn DeHart
The room fell again into an awkward silence, and Isabel tried to think of something clever to say. Thankfully the servants came in and served the first course.
“Did you say your name was Isabel Crisp?” Suzanne asked. “Why do I recognize that name? I’ve heard it recently.” Her delicate brow furrowed as she thought. “Darling, do you recall?”
Patrick glanced up from his dinner and eyed his wife. “I don’t believe so.”
Isabel shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m rather new to London, so I doubt that anyone—”
“The lost princess!” Suzanne exclaimed. “Yes, there was a story about you in the Times only yesterday, or perhaps it was the day before.” She waved her hand absently. “You are the lost princess from Saldania, are you not?”
Isabel’s gaze flickered to Jason, and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “That is what I have been told. I have no memory of it, though.”
“Fascinating,” Patrick said.
“Indeed,” Isabel agreed.
“It is true, then, that you had no notion of your real identity?” Suzanne asked.
“Yes, quite true,” Isabel said. “I had not even heard of my country.”
“You poor dear,” his mother said. “That must be dreadful to not know who you are.”
“I suppose. I don’t feel much different, to be honest. But I certainly don’t feel like a princess,” Isabel said.
“Jason, you married a princess in secret?” His mother clicked her tongue. “That simply will not do. You cannot hide such a treasure with a crude elopement in Scotland, in one of those dirty blacksmith hovels, no doubt.”
“We were in a hurry,” Jason said.
His mother’s brows rose. “Be that as it may, we must remedy the situation immediately,” she said.
What did that mean? Did his mother expect them to annul their marriage? That wasn’t even necessary, Isabel recognized, considering Jason had yet to consummate their union. She wished she knew more about how Society worked so that she could better read the situation. She hated the notion of beginning a marriage, real or not, with her new mother-in-law disappointed in her.
“You are not suggesting we marry again here in London, Mother?” Jason asked.
“Of course not. We need to host a ball in your honor and announce the nuptials. People will want to celebrate with you, my dear,” his mother said.
“People will want to gawk and gossip,” he countered.
“Of course, that is part of the celebration for some,” she said.
“You don’t need to go to any trouble on my account,” Isabel said. “Jason said something about posting a notice in the papers. Would that not suffice?”
Jason leaned ever so close to her. “A public portrayal of our marriage would certainly be the fastest way to alert people,” he whispered.
The warmth of his breath next to her ear gave her a shiver. She nodded absently. What was it about this man that was so distracting?
She forced her attention away from him and settled on his mother who smiled warmly at her. Isabel supposed she should be grateful that her new family wished to properly welcome her. But all she could think about was the fact that being married to her put Jason in danger. Now that she’d met his family, it made that danger even more real. If something happened to him, these lovely people would have to blame her.
“Then it is settled,” his mother said. “We shall host a ball here and announce your marriage.”
She had no idea how to behave at a ball. She wasn’t even certain she knew what went on at them other than dancing.
She’d certainly had some training that any lady of good breeding would have; she’d learned Latin and philosophy, how to dance, and even how to manage a household, although no one expected anyone to leave St. Bart’s and marry well. She had, though, even if it wasn’t precisely a true marriage in every respect. It seemed that Jason wasn’t too keen on telling anyone the truth, and certainly, if he were going to do so, his family would be his confidants.
He meant to keep the truth a secret. Something settled inside her. As if the mere fact that they shared a common secret bound them together in a partnership. She didn’t have to face this alone. No matter what else came her way, perhaps she finally had someone to go through life with.
“We have much planning to do,” his mother said, coming to her feet. “Come along, ladies, let us get started.”
Suzanne rose and beckoned Isabel forward.
“Go on, you’ll be relatively safe with them,” Jason said with a grin.
Isabel stood and followed her new sister and mother out of the room. She wasn’t too far out of earshot to hear Patrick say loudly, “It’s about bloody time, brother.”
…
After his family left for the evening, Jason went in search of Isabel. He found her in the library.
“Searching for more books on botany, I see. Does your appetite for all things planted know no bounds?” he asked from the doorway.
She gifted him a smile. “One can never read too many books on plant life.”
She was beautiful, and it stole his breath. Would that his circumstances were different, so that he could take her in this very room upon that old leather sofa.
“What?” she asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You are looking at me strangely.”
“Sorry. Merely tired, I suppose.” He leaned against the doorframe.
“You put everyone in an awkward position tonight, surprising them with our marriage,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “I find it often best to beg for forgiveness than seek permission.”
“You do things your own way, on your terms,” she said. “Without much of a care to how anyone will see it.”
“I do. Do you think that foolish?”
She smiled. “Brave, actually. I fear I have never done so before.”
“Not true. You stood on that table in that inn and boldly declared yourself available for marriage.”
Blush stained her cheeks. “That was foolish.”
“Yes, but brave also. You sought a solution to your problem.”
“And in doing so, put you in danger.”
“Not any more danger than I’ve been in before. It comes with my position in the Brotherhood.”
“Yes, your duty.” There was a hint of sadness in her tone.
He almost inquired about it, but thought better of it. “I thought tonight went well.”
“I’m glad. I feel rather out of my element. I feel as if I don’t know how to talk to people. It is as if I learned nothing at St. Bart’s,” she said.
“Nonsense. You were perfectly charming.”
She laughed, but it came out as more of a snort. “See. I’m a disaster. More than likely your mother and Suzanne believe me one as well. They kept asking me questions about food and decorations and people to invite, and I merely sat there staring at them. Perhaps they believe me a simpleton.”
He felt a pull toward her, but kept himself firmly against the doorframe. He would not risk being too close to her. Sitting next to her at dinner had been tempting enough. “Isabel, no one thinks that.”
“You could tell everyone that, then I wouldn’t have to speak.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “How did I ever think I could be a governess? Jason, I don’t know how to be in this world.”
The tears glistening in her eyes beckoned to him, but he locked his frame against the doorjamb. He could not console her. That would require him to be close, to touch her, and he feared once he started, he’d never be able to stop.
“I don’t particularly belong in this world, either,” he told her. It was an honesty so raw that he wanted to go on, tell her the rest, why he didn’t belong. “The truth is that most people will see what they want, believe what they want, no matter if you tell them differently. All will be well, you’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fair enough. Well, I’ll tell you what, if the ball is a d
isaster and you make a wreck of everything, you have my permission to select any book off these shelves and whack me in the head with it.”
“Truly?” she asked. Then a giggle bubbled over.
He placed his hand over his heart. “It is on my oath.”
“I shall hold you to that,” she said.
“Try to get some sleep, Isabel.” Then, against the desires of his own body, he turned away from her.
Jason had arisen early the following day and gone to see his mother at his brother’s townhome. Contrary to most women in London, she’d always been an early riser. It was the perfect time for them to have a private conversation. Jason knew he’d have questions to answer, especially if he was to expect her to help Isabel settle into life in Society.
She was already seated in the front parlor working on some embroidery when he arrived. She immediately set it aside when he entered the room.
“What a nice surprise,” she said.
“I didn’t think I had much time to get here before you paid a call upon me,” he said.
She smiled. “I am pleased we are seeing things the same. You knew I would have questions.”
“Of course. And,” he paused, searching for the right words, “I have a favor to ask.”
Her brows rose. “You surprise me with a marriage and now you want a favor? If you were a loving son, you’d have more mercy on my health.” She feigned a weak heart by patting herself on the chest.
“Mother, you and I both know you are the very picture of health.”
She waved her hand and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Who is this girl? Aside from the fabled princess of Saldania?”
Jason lowered himself into a chair adjacent to his mother’s settee. He poured himself a cup of tea and idly stirred sugar into it, perhaps just so that he had something to do with his hands. He never had been very accomplished at these sorts of conversations. He was far more comfortable in the thick of the action.
“She is the princess,” he said. “She was raised predominantly here, in London, or the outer reaches of London, rather, at a school called St. Bartholomew’s.”
“That school has a bit of a reputation, although not as bad as the one adjacent to it for boys,” his mother said.
“Yes, I have gathered. In any case, we believe she was hidden there, whether to protect her or for other, nefarious, reasons, we are not certain,” he said.
“And you married her, why?”
“I thought you would be pleased,” he said.
“Jason, I have wanted nothing more than for you to marry and start your own family, you know that. Of course I am pleased. She seems like a lovely girl. But it is obvious you did not marry her for love.”
“Very few people are afforded that.”
She inclined her head. “True. Still, it is something you wish for your children.”
“One out of two isn’t bad odds, Mother.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“I married her, that is the important part,” he said.
“This has something to do with the Brotherhood?”
He shushed her. “You are not even supposed to know about that. And for good reason.”
“I can keep a secret, which I assured you when I discovered your association with the Brotherhood. It is dangerous work, my love, and I worry.”
He reached forward and patted her hands. “I need for you to assist Isabel in becoming more a part of Society. I think she likely has the necessary skills, but is unsure of herself.”
“You know I will do what I can to help her. She is my daughter now.” She squeezed his hand. “Precisely the reason why I’ve decided to return to your townhome. Your brother is going back to the country for the remainder of the Season, and they no longer need my assistance.”
His initial reaction was to tell her she should go to Dorset with Patrick, but upon reflection, he recognized that having his mother on hand would be quite beneficial. For more than one reason. She could assist Isabel while also providing companionship, allowing him to stay farther away from his ever-tempting bride.
“Splendid. You know, more than anyone, how cruel Society can be. With your expert guidance, I know that Isabel shall make the transition smoothly,” he said.
“I see beyond that flattery, my son.” She smiled. “But that does not mean that your words do not work. I shall help your wife.”
“Starting with a shopping trip later today. She needs everything.”
Chapter Seven
Jason assisted Isabel out of the carriage and onto Bond Street. She didn’t move, though, as if her feet were planted to the cobbled stones. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the sights. He’d forgotten that all of this would be new to her. Damn Thornton and whoever else had been involved in hiding the girl away, for never allowing her to be the lady she was born to be.
“This is the most popular place to shop in London,” he told her. He took her hand and linked it with his elbow. “We need to buy you some new clothes, shoes, and accessories, especially for the ball.”
She frowned. “I do not have any funds for such things.”
“You are my wife, Isabel, perhaps in name only, but my wife, nonetheless.”
“Yes, but we didn’t marry out of affection,” she whispered. “We married for practical reasons, out of duty to queen and country, and I practically forced you to marry me.” She shook her head. “It would not be right for me to expect you to buy me expensive gifts.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You are my wife. I have plenty of money—”
“But—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “But you need a new wardrobe, and it is my duty to provide that for you. And my pleasure to purchase it. Besides, it would reflect badly on my name if I allowed you to go about London dressed in rags.”
She was quiet a moment before releasing a breath and nodding. “I suppose I do need something more acceptable for the ball, though that red gown you gave me is so lovely. Most definitely the prettiest dress I’ve ever owned.”
“Precisely.” They walked in silence until they reached the modiste’s shop. The gilded sign hanging above the door read Madame Angelique.
He tried to ignore how perfectly Isabel matched his stride or how well her hand fit into the crook of his elbow. “Madame Angelique is the best modiste in Town,” he told her. “She is the one who made the dress you wore last night.”
Isabel’s eyes brightened. “She does lovely work.”
He placed his hand on the door then paused before opening it. “The notice should have been in the Times this morning.”
“Notice?”
“Of our union. You are now Lady Ellis.” He opened the door, and a tiny gold bell above their heads tinkled as they stepped inside.
“Good morning, good morning,” a voice, thick with a French accent, called from farther inside. A petite woman burst through the mounds of fabric on display. “How may I help you?”
“Madame Angelique, I contacted you about my new bride. I am Viscount Ellis, this is my wife, Isabel.”
She clapped her hands together and smiled. “Ah yes, the scarlet dress that I sent over. How did it fit?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she came forward and pulled Isabel from Jason’s side. She circled Isabel, taking in her form. “Ah yes, it would have been a nearly perfect fit.”
“We need more,” Jason said.
Madame Angelique’s eyes lit up. “What did you have in mind?”
“She needs everything. She is new to London. Gowns of all manners, a riding habit, perhaps two, underthings, slippers, everything.”
Madame Angelique’s eyes sparked with excitement. “We shall have a marvelous day, my pigeon,” she said to Isabel. “I will take care of you myself.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Isabel said.
“No trouble. The girls will take care of any other customers.” And as if she’d summoned them, three women came through the back of the shop. Madame Angelique gave them orders, then tu
rned to Jason. “I shall take excellent care of your bride, monsieur.”
Jason had the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. He wouldn’t even pretend to be offended. He’d already arranged for his mother and Suzanne to come and assist Isabel. But Isabel’s eyes were wide, and he wouldn’t leave her while she was so obviously uncomfortable.
“My mother is coming to join you,” he told Isabel. “I shall wait until she arrives.”
Madame Angelique nodded. “Very well, monsieur, you may wait over there.” She motioned to a small seating area across the room.
It was none too soon because one of the other girls came up with several filmy undergarments. It took very little imagination for him to envision the garments on Isabel. Jason’s hands itched, and he longed to run his fingers over the silky fabrics, to remove them from her graceful shoulders, allow the gossamer fabric to pool at her feet.
He moved out of the way, careful to avoid touching any of the alluring material. How had he even gotten himself into such a mess?
…
Jason disappeared into the sea of fabric, and Isabel was whisked away to an area behind a large screen. Madame Angelique’s assistant began working on the buttons at the back of Isabel’s dress, and before she’d fully comprehended what was happening, she stood before the two women in nothing but her stays, chemise, and pantalets. Then the measuring started. She vaguely remembered having this done once before when she’d first come to London, but the details were foggy, as if she’d been watching it from the outside rather than experiencing it herself. She’d been but a small girl then.
The women spoke with each other, mostly in French, and the assistant disappeared outside the screens several times, each time returning with another armload of fabrics. Madame Angelique made furious notes inside a tiny black leather notebook that Isabel suspected would be highly coveted by other dressmakers in London, if she were, in fact, the best, as Jason had said. It was obvious that this petite woman was quite serious about her work and would not be outdone by anyone else.
