“I don’t know, Miss Isabel,” Elisa said and she followed behind Isabel as she hurried down the steps.
The Duke appeared from behind her, his presence so large and dominating that Isabel was crossed between stepping out of his way and going closer to him.
He looked like a man on a mission, his brows furrowed deep with concentration. Isabel had never seen him walk with such purpose before and she didn’t know whether to be worried or aroused by it. A little bit of both wormed its way in to mingle with the confusion.
“Your Grace?” she called to him when it seemed he would walk right past her.
The Duke stopped and looked at her. He instantly began to say something but then he paused, eyes running down the length of her.
She stared back at him, even as a slow blush crept over her cheeks. He was drinking her in like a thirsty man, as if committing every inch of her body to memory. Isabel stood there for him to see, wanting to show him more of her if she could.
Say something, Your Grace! Tell me how beautiful I look! Let me know what you’re thinking, please.
The past month might have changed her a little, but it definitely didn’t change the Duke. He was the same cryptic gentleman she’d met in January and she knew that no matter how much she wanted it to happen, he wouldn’t let her see past the mask he always put into place.
“Forgive me, Miss Isabel,” he said. “But I won’t be able to attend tonight’s ball. I’ve received word of an epidemic breakout in Blackpool, so I have to go visit my estates near there. I have informed Lady Pemperton and asked that she escort you in my stead.”
As if summoned, Lady Pemperton appeared at the doorway, wearing her own frown. If it wasn’t for the hustle and bustle happening around her, Isabel would have stopped to admire the beautiful hue of the Marchioness’ gown and the way it brought out her eyes.
The Duke looked relieved at Lady Pemperton’s arrival and gave her a curt nod then he headed for the door. He didn’t look back at Isabel, nor did he say another word in farewell. But she had a feeling he could feel the weight of her gaze as he left.
No one said anything while the Duke made his hasty departure and after a moment, the air around them settled into complete silence. Then, Lady Pemperton was studying her and Isabel schooled the defeat from her face before she could notice it.
“Well, are you ready to leave?” Lady Pemperton said, pointing her fan at the waiting carriage. “I know how disappointed you must be, but not to worry. We’ll be fine. I’m sure everything will work out for all parties.”
Isabel nodded, attempting to give the Marchioness a smile that didn’t look completely false on her face.
How cruel you are, Fate, to have him leave me at such a time. I was supposed to seduce him tonight, but now he won’t even be there to see it.
She hadn’t realized how deeply she had planned to make the Duke fall for her at tonight’s ball, until now that he was gone, and there was no chance of it. The more she saw him, the more she yearned to have him and the harder it was to come to terms with the idea that she was now to put on a smiling face and impress good suitors.
There was nothing she hated more in that moment.
* * *
The first ball of the Season was held at the Viscount of Hallinton’s manor and it was the most extravagant scene Isabel had ever beheld. Walking at the side of Lady Pemperton, she did what she had been told to do, while trying not to look too dazzled by everything that was going on around her.
That became nearly impossible the moment she was announced and she entered the large ballroom. The room was impossibly bright and for a moment, she had to squint just a little to allow her eyes to adjust. She walked alongside the Marchioness, who looked very much at ease with her surroundings while taking in the elegantly adorned ambience that was filled with the smell of perfume.
Isabel also tried her best not to shy away from the many eyes that were watching her. From the moment she was announced, heads turned in her direction and the eyes followed her into the room. She kept a slight smile on her face, as Lady Pemperton had suggested, and pretended to be much more confident than she felt.
“They are all staring at me,” she murmured to Lady Pemperton.
“Of course they are, dear,” Lady Pemperton said. “You look beautiful tonight. And you also have a French name, which is bound to arouse some interest.”
“I understand that, truly. But do they have to watch me for so long?”
“Sweetheart, if you plan to become the belle of the ball, then you’re going to have to get used to that feeling. Now, be ready. The music will be starting shortly and gentlemen will soon be coming to ask for a dance.”
“Already?” Isabel gasped.
Lady Pemperton looked at her. “I did tell you how it would all be, did I not?”
“Yes,” Isabel said, trying to relax. “You did.” But hearing her say it and facing it were two entirely different things. She noticed suddenly that she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to enjoy this ball. She would play her role well, or at least to the best of her abilities, but the thought of dancing with any gentleman that wasn’t the Duke made her nearly sick.
As Lady Pemperton predicted, the music that was currently playing came to an end. Dancing partners began to separate, ladies being led back to their chaperones, while gentlemen went to seek out other partners. Isabel noticed three different gentlemen coming her way and she tensed in anticipation of it. Lady Pemperton, who seemed to have noticed them, too, was thrumming with excitement.
The first to reach her was tall, with slightly receding brown hair. He seemed to be a little older than all the others. He politely asked for a dance, to which Isabel accepted, and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor.
He was Francis Whitely, the Earl of Bloomfield. It was the most interesting thing about him. Isabel tried her best to put into practice all the things Lady Pemperton had taught her. She had a good feeling that it worked, but by the time she made it back to the Marchioness’ side, she felt as bland and empty as when she first left.
But they didn’t stop coming. One after the other, they vied for her attention. They confirmed Lady Pemperton’s suspicions, that the moment they heard her name, they were interested to see who this person was. And when they saw her, they decided they couldn’t allow the night to end without at least one dance. Isabel was honestly surprised at how many of them used the same old, tired lines with her, but then, she couldn’t judge them too badly. She did the same as well. She fell into the role she was supposed to be in and they were all eager for more.
Any time she had for her thoughts, they rested solely on the Duke. She had him within her grasp, only for him to disappear once again. She should have been dancing with him, if only once. Now, the entire night had lost its luster.
Your Grace, if you can’t be here with me, at the very least I hope you’re staying safe.
Chapter Fourteen
“Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself,” Isabel sighed once she made it back to Lady Pemperton’s side. She didn’t know how many times she danced since she arrived but now she was tired.
Lady Pemperton had just finished talking with an old friend of hers, and she gave Isabel an excited smile. “And you’re not? Oh, I haven’t been to a London ball in years. This is bringing back so many memories.”
“I see you’re catching up with a few old friends, as well.”
“Yes, they have their own daughters debuting tonight. I made sure to let them know that you will definitely be the belle of the ball. Would you just look at you? You’re shining with radiance!”
“I believe it’s just perspiration, Lady Pemperton,” Isabel joked lightly. “I’ve been dancing for hours.”
“Well, rest up for a while then, my dear. You can tell anyone who approaches you that you’re too tired to dance for now. Oh, wait!”
Isabel started slightly. “What is it?”
“That gentleman coming toward us right now, do you see him?”
&
nbsp; Isabel looked and sure enough, a tall, handsome gentleman was steadily making his way over to her. Unlike all the others, he didn’t give her a welcoming or flirtatious smile. He simply looked curious, which heightened Isabel’s curiosity as well.
He had a head of dark hair, cut close to his head, which brought out his very strong jaw. He was well-built, but more on the slim side when compared to the Duke. His eyes were a light blue that captured her attention instantly.
“Lady Pemperton, Miss Isabel, it’s so lovely you could attend tonight’s ball.” A tall lady draped from head to toe in pearls approached them with a broad smile. Lady Pemperton responded in kind but Isabel was too busy marveling at her domineering stature to be as polite as she should have.
“Lady Hallinton,” Lady Pemperton said. “How are you? How is Lord Hallinton?”
Lady Hallinton waved her hand dismissively. She seemed quite comfortable with her height. “He’s somewhere around, trying to gather up enough men to do heaven knows what. I’m just happy everything is turning out as well as I’d hoped.”
“I’ve certainly been enjoying myself so far, Lady Hallinton,” Isabel spoke up, hoping to make up for her impoliteness.
Lady Hallinton’s appraising eyes settled on her. “It certainly looks like you have been. Why, you might have danced every dance since you came.”
“Just about,” Isabel said with a laugh. “Now, I’m dreadfully tired.”
“Not exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
They all turned at the sound of the newcomer sweeping into their area. Isabel blinked, not expecting to see such a handsome gentleman standing next to her and suddenly, she didn’t know what to do. Especially since he was looking directly at her.
“How lovely,” Lady Hallinton purred. “Lady Pemperton, Miss Isabel, may I introduce Paul Metier, Count d’Ylles.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord,” said Lady Pemperton. Isabel could see the interest shining in Lady Pemperton’s eyes but she stepped back, a sure sign that she was allowing Isabel to take over.
Isabel pushed aside the fatigue and annoyance of having to deal with another gentleman. In truth, she didn’t even want to be here any longer. Without the Duke around, she felt empty and incredibly bored.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lord,” Isabel said politely.
To her genuine surprise, he only regarded her with those same curious eyes. Then he said, “You caught my eye the moment you walked in, Miss Isabel, and I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t dance with you at least once.”
“An interesting way of asking for dance, My Lord,” Isabel mused, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She’d heard that far too many times already tonight to care for it again.
“I hope it was interesting enough for you to humor me for a dance?”
Isabel blinked, laughter bubbling up her throat. He looked so utterly serious, however, that she wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or not.
She could feel Lady Pemperton’s quiet urging for her to accept, and not knowing another way out of it, she nodded and offered him the same false smile she offered everyone else. “Interesting is one thing,” she said. “But it would be unkind of me to ignore such quiet persistence.”
“Ah,” Lord d’Ylles chuckled. “You read me well.”
Isabel kept silent as she allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor. He was much taller now that she was standing so close to him, and was slim enough that she reckoned that if she were to lay her head on his chest, she would hear his heart clearly. She fought her sudden curiosity and placed her hands in his, allowing him to lead her through the dance.
“Do you want to know the truth, Miss Isabel?” he asked after a short moment.
“The truth?”
“It wasn’t only your name that drew my attention. It was your gown, as well. There is something about it that I doubt others would have picked up on.”
“Ah, you noticed?”
“But of course I did.” He moved swiftly, sweeping her around the room in his own rhythm that was just barely one step ahead of the beat of the music. “I was born and raised in Paris. I think I would be able to pick up a few fashion differences between here and my home country.”
Isabel had thought he had some connection to France because of his name and his title, but she had also assumed that the connection was due to his parents, since he fit in very well with all these Englishmen. Now that she listened hard enough, she could hear a bit of his accent coming through.
“Still, My Lord, it’s quite impressive that you’ve managed to notice that. Many gentlemen don’t care very much for women’s fashion.”
“I’d like to say it’s the Frenchman in me, then,” he said, grinning down at her.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “The attention to such detail is very much appreciated.”
“And what about you, Miss Isabel?” he asked conversationally. His voice lightened with intrigue. “Were you raised in France like I was?”
She had prepared herself for this question and, honestly, she was a little surprised no one had asked her about it yet. She knew what such a question would do to her and she swallowed the sadness that sprouted at the thought of her life in France. It wasn’t simply a question on how she grew up. It was a question that opened all the wounds that she’d tried her best to close up, the deaths that happened one after the other.
She was impressed to find that no tears sprang forth and that her voice didn’t tremble when she spoke. “I spent most of my childhood in Paris, yes. But after the death of my parents, I came to England.”
“Oh, I see.” Isabel braced herself for the inevitable question. How did they die? What age? So on and so forth. “So you’ve lived both lives, then. As a French lady and as an English lady. Do you have a preference?”
She blinked, looking up at him as he twirled her around the room. “A…a preference?”
The Count nodded. “I find myself crossed between the two. My wonderful mother, bless her heart, was English while my father was French. As a result, I got the best of both worlds.”
“Well, I… I never really thought about it. When I left France, I was only twelve. But the life I lived there wasn’t very different from the life I lived with the late Duke and Duchess of Ventbury.”
“Ah, they became your guardians?” Isabel was only half aware of the fact that she was still dancing with him. Her mind was very focused on the conversation, falling deeper and deeper the longer they spoke. She nearly forgot that she was in the middle of a room full of people moving to the same beat they were.
“They did,” she said with a nod. “They were quite close to my parents, and they frequented France a lot. I believe they met at a ball in France when the Duke and his wife were on vacation. I also believe they might have visited a few of the perfumeries we owned.”
“How fitting. It comes as no surprise to me that you are heir to perfumeries when you possess such a wonderful scent.”
Isabel looked up in surprise, unable to help the blush of embarrassment that enveloped her face. She caught him staring down at her, amusement glinting in his eyes, and it made her look away just as quickly. “That might have been the most original compliment I’ve ever heard,” she murmured.
Lord d’Ylles threw his head back and laughed. The sound shocked her so much that they stopped dancing, and she could only stand there and wait for him to be finished.
“You might be the most honest lady I’ve met tonight, Miss Isabel,” he said once he calmed down and resumed dancing.
“Now that’s a much better compliment,” she quipped with a smile.
“It’s a shame this has to end. Should I take the leap and ask for your permission to visit you tomorrow? Or should I not get ahead of myself and simply hound you for more dances until you say yes?”
Isabel laughed. “Why don’t you use your discretion?”
“I’ll take that as a good sign and go ahead and ask. May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss I
sabel?” Lord d’Ylles asked as they both slowed to a stop. They didn’t have much time to stand around and talk now that the dance was over but Isabel saw no urgency in his eyes.
“That would be lovely, My Lord,” Isabel said without giving it a second thought. “I’ve enjoyed myself, so I have no doubt your presence will be welcomed in the future.”
“I can only dare to hope.”
His grin was infectious and Isabel found herself smiling from ear to ear as he led her back to Lady Pemperton. As usual, Lady Pemperton didn’t allow herself to stand alone but once Isabel neared, she politely broke away from the other matrons of the ball and came to her side.
“The dance was lovely, Miss Isabel,” Lord d’Ylles said, taking a step back. “Now I won’t bother you any longer tonight. I’ll wait until tomorrow to do that.”
Daring Deeds 0f A Forbidden Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 9
