The Scandal in Kissing an Heir
Page 31
Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he’d decided to attach himself to her—an act that she’d always found most curious. Surely he must have realized by now that they had very little in common, and given his current station in life, he could have formed a favorable connection to a far more prosperous family. Of course he would probably have had to attend a Season in London in order to make the acquaintance of such families, and his reluctance to do so certainly explained why he was presently sitting down to tea in her parlor instead of sending flowers to a proper lady of breeding.
Isabella had on more than one occasion brought the issue regarding Mr. Roberts’s displeasure for socializing to her mother’s attention, complaining that her future would consist of few diversions if she were to marry him, but her mother had simply pointed out that the only reason young ladies attended such events was with the direct purpose of drawing the attention of the gentlemen present. Once married, there would be little reason for Isabella to do so and consequently no point in engaging in anything other than the occasional tea party. And as if this had not been enough, her mother had added a long list of reasons why Isabella should be thankful that a man as respectable and affluent as Mr. Roberts had bothered to show her any consideration at all. It had been rather demeaning.
“Well, it’s nice to see that they seem to be recovering from the death of the duke’s father,” Isabella heard her mother say.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Isabella’s father said. “It must have been very difficult for them, given the long duration of his illness and all.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Roberts muttered without the slightest alteration of his facial expression.
A moment of silence followed until Isabella’s mother finally broke it by saying, “Now then, Mr. Roberts, tell us about that horse you were planning to buy the last time we saw you.”
And that was the end of the conversation regarding the Kingsborough Ball—but it was far from the end of Isabella’s dreams of attending. In fact, she didn’t spare a single thought for anything else during the remainder of her tea, though she must have managed to nod and shake her head at all the right times, for nobody appeared to have noticed that her mind had exited the room.
“Was afternoon tea as delightful as always?” Jamie, Isabella’s younger sister, asked when they settled into bed that evening. At thirteen years of age, she was a complete hoyden and just as mischievous as any boy her age might have been, getting into every scrape imaginable. After deliberately sneaking a frog into Mr. Roberts’s jacket pocket three months earlier, she’d been barred from attending Sunday tea. Her punishment for the offense had included two weeks of confinement to her bedroom, as well as some choice words from Mr. Roberts himself. Needless to say, Jamie’s approval of the man had long since dwindled.
“It was better, considering I was hardly aware of Mr. Roberts’s presence at all.”
Jamie scrunched her nose. “Honestly, Izzie, I don’t know why you suffer the fellow. He has no sense of humor to speak of, is much too reserved to suit your vibrant character, not to mention that there’s something really queer about him in general. I don’t think you should marry him if he offers.”
Isabella attempted a smile as she settled herself into bed, scooting down beneath the covers until she was lying on her side, facing her sister. They each had their own bedroom, but with the nights still cold, Jamie often snuck into Isabella’s room so they could snuggle up together, talking about this and that until sleep eventually claimed them. “I have to think rationally about this, Jamie. Mama and Papa are struggling to keep food on the table, and there’s also you to consider. I want a better life for you than this, with more choices than I’ve been afforded.”
Jamie shook her head as well as she could, considering she was lying down. “I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for being the cause of your unhappiness.”
There were tears in her young eyes now that made Isabella’s heart ache. Isabella loved her sister so dearly and knew that her sister loved her equally. “It’s not just you, Jamie, but Mama and Papa as well. Mr. Roberts will ensure that they want for nothing.”
“And in return, you will probably have to kiss him.” Jamie made a face.
Isabella’s hand flew up to whack her naughty sister playfully across the head. “What on earth do you know of such things?” Was there anything more appalling than talking with one’s kid sister about kissing?
“Enough to assure you that you might want to think twice before giving that particular right to a man like him.”
With a sigh, Isabella rolled back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Jamie was right, of course, but what was Isabella to do? Her family’s future depended on her seeing this through to the end. Really, what choice did she have?
“So, what did you daydream about this time?” Jamie asked, changing the subject entirely.
“What do you mean?”
“You said before that you barely noticed Mr. Roberts’s presence during tea. I assume your thoughts must have been elsewhere.”
“Oh!” Isabella sat up, turning herself so she could meet her sister’s eyes. “The Kingsborough Ball. Papa says they’re hosting a new one. Oh, Jamie, isn’t it exciting!”
Jamie jumped up. “You have to attend.”
“What?” It was preposterous—absurd—the most wonderful idea ever. Isabella shook her head. She would not allow herself to entertain the notion. It would only lead to disappointment. “That’s impossible,” she said.
“Why?” The firm look in her sister’s eyes dared her to list her reasons.
“Very well,” Isabella said, humoring her. “I have not been invited, nor will I be.”
“We’ll sneak you in through the servant’s entrance. Cousin Simon can help with that, since he works there.”
Isabella rolled her eyes. Trust Jamie to have that problem already worked out. “I’m not an aristocrat—they will notice I don’t belong,” she countered.
Jamie shrugged. “From what you’ve told me, the Kingsborough Ball is always masked, is it not?”
“Well, yes, I suppose—”
“Then no one will notice.” Jamie waved her hand and smiled smugly. “Do go on.”
“I . . . I have no gown that I could possibly wear to such a function, and that is the deciding factor. No gown, no ball.”
“Ah, but you are wrong about that,” her sister said, meeting her gaze with such cheeky resolve that Isabella couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of apprehension. “There’s always the one in the attic to consider, and I’ll wager—”
“Absolutely not,” Isabella said. She knew exactly which gown her sister was referring to, for it was quite possibly the most exquisite thing Isabella had ever seen. It had also given rise to a string of questions that would probably never be answered, like how such a gown had found its way into the Chilcott home in the first place. Fearful of the answer and of the punishment they’d likely have received if their parents had discovered they’d been playing in a part of the house that had been off limits, they’d made a pact to keep their knowledge of the gown a secret.
“But Izzie—”
“Jamie, I know that you mean well, but it’s time I faced my responsibilities as an adult. The Kingsborough Ball is but a dream that will never amount to anything more.”
“A lifelong dream, Izzie,” her sister protested. Jamie took Isabella’s hand and held it in her own. “Wouldn’t you like to see what it’s like living it?”
It was tempting of course, but still, wearing a gown that had in all likelihood been acquired under dubious circumstances, as it was one her parents couldn’t possibly afford, would be harebrained. Wouldn’t it? After all, it had probably been hidden away for a reason. Her mother had never mentioned that it existed, which was also strange considering it would make an excellent wedding gown for Isabella when sh
e married Mr. Roberts. No, there was something about that gown and its history. Isabella was certain of it, for the more she considered it, the more wary she grew of what she might discover if her questions were one day answered.
In any event, she couldn’t possibly wear it to the Kingsborough Ball. Could she? She would be betraying her parents’ trust by doing so. It would certainly be the most daring thing she’d ever done. And yet . . . this would be her last chance for a fairy-tale experience. Closing her eyes, she made her decision. She would do it. Isabella would seize a moment for herself—one night of adventure that would have to last a lifetime. She only hoped that she wouldn’t one day look back on it with longing and regret.
About the Author
Born in Denmark, SOPHIE BARNES spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She’s lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish, and Romanian. But, most impressive of all, she’s been married to the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses. When she’s not busy dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.
Visit Sophie Barnes at www.sophiebarnes.com. You can also find her on Facebook and on Twitter @BarnesSophie.
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By Sophie Barnes
Novels
The Scandal in Kissing an Heir
The Trouble with Being a Duke
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda
There’s Something About Lady Mary
Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure
How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back
Novellas
Mistletoe Magic
(From Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection)
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from The Trouble with Being a Duke copyright © 2013 by Sophie Barnes
THE SCANDAL IN KISSING AN HEIR. Copyright © 2014 by Sophie Barnes. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780062245106
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-224517-5
FIRST EDITION
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