“Very well,” sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Enjoy yourself.” She stood, waiting for him to leave.
Miles looked back at the corner where the young woman was still laughing. She had an innocence and gaiety that appealed to him. He would find out who she was and beg an introduction. Perhaps this Little Season would not disappoint him after all.
Miles began to move toward the corner but stopped himself quickly when at last his brain recognized the figure sitting next to the pretty girl. Isobel Masters. “Dizzy Izzy” as he'd christened her after that first ball she'd attended.
For ten years Miles had largely managed to avoid her, mainly due to some sharp exchanges with her had shown him just how much she disliked him. He could hardly blame her. He had been the ringleader in ridiculing her during that first season. Perhaps he would introduce himself later.
Miles turned a step back toward where he'd been standing. But he caught Mrs. Tremain eying him curiously. Better to brave a few sharp words from Miss Masters. Miles squared his shoulders and strode as confidently as he could toward the chaperone's corner.
Chapter 2
“Those men just do not learn, do they?”
Isobel Masters listened to her Aunt Harriet chuckle as she asked the question.
“Hmm?” Isobel had been watching her younger sister dance with a short and square man who barely managed to remain upright. It took a moment for her to notice that Aunt Hetty was looking off into the opposite corner from where the two women were seated.
“Over there,” Aunt Hetty lifted her chin toward the scene. Isobel followed her gaze and saw Mr. John Riley approaching Miss Emily Dalhousie, one of the new young women on the marriage market this season. Isobel rolled her eyes in disgust.
Aunt Hetty made a noise of disapproval. “You’d think after ten years in this game, the young man could learn to recognize trouble when he saw it.”
“Any man in that set is destined to disappoint you, aunt. They only look for a pretty face or a large dowry. A woman blessed with both, like Miss Dalhousie, is irresistible.”
“Well, she is pretty at that. And such bright red hair! I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone swept her away.”
Isobel raised her eyebrows in doubt. “I hardly think Mr. Riley will sweep her anywhere. His charms are few.”
Aunt Hetty held her tongue. Isobel knew her tone was sharp, but she could not help it. After ten years of it, her aunt had learned not to speak of Mr. Riley, Mr. Tremain, Mr. Blume, and Lord Revere.
Especially Lord Revere.
In her first season, nearly a decade ago, they had laughed Isobel right out of any marriage prospects she might have had. And she could not let go of her hate, mostly because of the indelible nickname they'd saddled her with: “Dizzy Izzy.”
At her very first ball, Isobel had slipped somehow and come careening down the staircase in a blur of white fabric. It had been quite the spectacular tumble, but not exactly how she had desired herself to be introduced into society.
Of course, Lord Revere had witnessed her fall and instead of coming to her rescue, like a proper gentleman, had merely laughed. Then he'd started that cursed nickname. Even now her pulse raced with anger. She would never forgive him.
“Just look at her waving that silly fan about,” Aunt Hetty interrupted Isobel's thoughts before they could turn bloody. “She's liable to hit someone in the face with the wave she's flipping it here and there.”
Isobel laughed. “Aunt, I've never known you to be so uncharitable towards the new girls.”
“Because most of them are innocents and their tricks are easily seen. Miss Dalhousie has something more about her, something I don't like.”
“Well, you need not fear for Mr. Riley, I am sure.”
“Regardless of your feelings, Isobel, I quite like the young man. He is gallant, even though he can be a bit silly. I believe he wants to do right.”
“You only make excuses because his mother is your friend.”
“Well, no man deserves to be caught like a fish. Nor woman, neither, before you start!” Aunt Hetty held up her hand to quell Isobel's protests.
“You have such romantic notions about men, aunt,” Isobel shook her head.
“Though it has never come to me, I do believe every person should have a chance at love – the true kind of love. If it comes and one throws it away, ah well. But the chance is there. I wish no less for Mr. Riley. As I wish it for you, too.”
A chance.
Isobel might have had a chance once. But it had most certainly passed her by. She was almost thirty, had fortune but no rank, and she was definitely not accounted beautiful by anyone. She was plump and clumsy and would stay unmarried forever.
She was enjoying watching her younger sister make her debut this evening even though it brought back painful memories of her own first ball. Isobel's fate would not do for her sister. Catherine, or Cat as her family called her, was a blooming eighteen year old girl with light blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Their father often called her “angel.” And it suited both her face and her personality.
Cat had been impatient to get into society and their unmarried Aunt Hetty didn't mind the company. Indeed, Isobel knew she rather relished the young blood in her household. It gave her an excuse to do things the young people would do. Isobel knew she felt younger than her fifty years. She was more like an older sister, a confidant who made society bearable these last ten years. Aunt Hetty had promised to grow old with Isobel. She smiled now at the thought. Two old maids together as unchanging and reliable as the Countess of Rendell's ball. Tonight, like all the other years, Isobel saw the same food, the same decorations, the same music, even the same faces.
Only the young people changed, like Cat who came bounding toward her and Aunt Hetty. She appreciated her sister’s enthusiasm, but might need to have a word with her about not running across the floor.
“Izzy,” Cat sighed, grabbing her sister's hand, “I am the happiest girl on earth tonight!”
Isobel laughed. “And what has made you realize this delightful fact, my love?”
“Oh, everything!” She made a sweeping gesture across the room. “All of this is simply splendid!”
“A woman's first ball should always be an absolutely splendid occasion.” Aunt Hetty’s eyes flashed with mirth that sent Cat off into a pretty peal of laughter.
“Well, this certainly is, aunt. I have danced every dance with such handsome and agreeable men. It seems just like a fairy tale.”
“Then I shall play the part of your fairy godmother.” Aunt Hetty held up her hand and Cat bowed her head to be anointed. Cat laughed again and placed a sweet kiss on her aunt's cheek.
“Does that make me the ugly stepsister to your Cinderella?” Isobel teased.
“Izzy, you know that no one thinks you are ugly,” Cat protested
“I know that you do not think so, and that is enough for me.” Isobel smiled.
“I do love you, Izzy. I only wish you would have as much enjoyment as I do.”
“But I do, my love,” Isobel squeezed her sister's hand. “You cannot understand how much I enjoy seeing you happy. That is quite enough for me.”
“I wish you would dance,” Cat pouted. “You are a wonderful dancer.”
At this, Isobel laughed heartily. “No, dear Cat, I would only trip over my own feet. You know how clumsy I am. I would make a horrid spectacle of myself.”
“Not with the right partner, I think.” Cat refused to concede.
“Well, if you can find me the right partner, sister, I promise that I shall try it.” Isobel smiled broadly as a shadow fell over them.
Isobel looked up to see an unwelcome face. Her smile disappeared instantly as she laid eyes on the Baron of Revere.
“Misses Masters.” His cold voice raised a chill along her spine as he offered her a polite bow.
“My lord,” Isobel forced a polite nod though everything in her rebelled. At her side, Aunt Hetty also bowed her head politely.
/>
“I hope that you are well, Miss Masters,” Revere wasn't even looking at Aunt Hetty when he asked. Instead, his gaze was trained on Cat. Clearly, the girl had attracted his attention. Isobel grew defensive. This man did not deserve to be introduced to her lovely and innocent sister. She must keep him away somehow.
Isobel stalled for a moment, combing her mind for some way to dismiss Lord Revere without making a scene. But nothing came to her. With an inward sigh and a roll of her eyes, Isobel finally gave in.
“Lord Revere, may I present my sister, Miss Catherine Masters.”
“Charmed,” Revere said as he offered a smile and a bow to Cat. Isobel was unhappy to see a pretty blush rise to her sister's cheeks.
“As am I, sir,” Cat offered a small curtsy.
“May I have this dance?” Isobel noticed that he had already turned and offered his arm for escort, as if he had no doubt of his offer being accepted. Isobel's lip curled in barely contained anger as the two moved toward the dance floor. The arrogance!
Here was a man, Isobel thought, who had been born with all the advantages one needed for success in this world. He was the first son of a wealthy and titled family, had inherited a fortune, and was very handsome. The last qualification popped into her mind unbidden, but she reluctantly allowed it. Yes, he was handsome. And he dressed well. But surely the devil himself could hire a good tailor, it did not make his other activities any more acceptable.
Yet the man with all of these advantages had chosen a life of dissipation and waste. She hoped Cat would keep her reason about her and realize that Lord Revere was not an eligible man for her. But Isobel could not count on it.
As she watched her sister and Lord Revere take their places on the dance floor, she began a mental list of ways that she might keep Cat away from the man she disliked most in the world.
Chapter 3
“Now where has your dancing partner run off to and left you standing here waiting?”
Cat smiled as Aunt Hetty appeared at her side. She knew her beloved aunt had been keeping a careful eye on her all evening, though she tried not to be conspicuous about it.
“Lord Revere has gone to get us something to drink, aunt. He has not abandoned me.”
Aunt Hetty pretended to be shocked. “Abandoned! I thought no such thing.”
“You were surely thinking something horrible had passed. I saw the way that Izzy looked at Lord Revere when he approached me earlier. And it was hard to miss her glaring at the back of Lord Revere’s head as if she was trying to burn a hole there.”
Aunt Hetty heaved a sigh. “Pay her no attention, my dear. Your sister has disliked Lord Revere for many years.”
“I can’t understand why.” Cat gazed after the man in question whose tall form moved gracefully toward the refreshment table. Cat had been surprised to find him an elegant and powerful partner on the dance floor. She had been fascinated by the way the tails of his immaculately tailored and pressed black evening coat seemed an extension of his body as they fell back perfectly into place. Even now they swayed lightly with his movement.
And the man had a very nice face to go with his excellent tailoring. Dark brows covered eyes that seemed black. His dark hair was arranged in a stylish manner. But even with all these outwardly pleasant things, Cat had been put off by the fact that his polite smile did not reach his eyes.
“Why does Izzy dislike him?” Cat asked her aunt.
“You have heard the story of her first season?” Aunt Hetty inquired.
“I have.”
“And you have heard of her nickname?”
“Dizzy Izzy?”
Aunt Hetty nodded. “Your sister can never forgive Lord Revere for saddling her with that name.”
Cat’s eyes grew wide. “He did that?”
“I’m afraid so. He was young, as was she, and it is the kind of sport young men have with young women, especially young women like Isobel.”
“But it is so unlike Izzy to be so resentful.”
“I believe your sister thinks that Lord Revere ruined her chances of ever finding her fairy tale prince.”
“Do you believe that, aunt?”
She paused. “I believe that he made it harder for her to see the good in herself. And his ridicule did make it difficult for any man to approach her without facing the laughter of his peers.”
“Has he never apologized for his behavior?” Cat's brow creased in concern as she looked again at Lord Revere.
“As far as I know, no, he has not. Not in those words. But do you think your sister would accept it even if he did?” asked Aunt Hetty.
“Perhaps if she spent time with him, she would see a different side of his nature. I don't wish to believe he is as bad as Izzy thinks he is.”
“And why are you inclined to believe he is not bad? Your sister — and I will agree with her — will say that you have seen very little of town society. You do not know much about gentlemen like Lord Revere.”
Cat considered. Her aunt made a good point, but there was still something Cat could not overcome. “And my answer would that it is true I have little experience of society, but because of that, I have perhaps more faith in the goodness of people. It is a lesson I learned from Izzy herself when I was still in leading strings. She is always the first to see the good in others. So why has she refused to do so with Lord Revere?”
Aunt Hetty had mischief in her eyes. “It is a very good question, and one I believe you might ask you sister, if you are determined to reconcile herself and Lord Revere.”
“Well, he has asked to call tomorrow, so I believe she will have to learn to tolerate him. After all, she cannot object to a man who would make me an eligible husband.”
“Her objection will not be over his eligibility...”
Their attention was drawn to the raised voices coming from the direction of the refreshment table. Cat knew Izzy's voice before she'd even looked. Aunt Hetty groaned and started toward the table. She said to Cat, who followed close behind, “It seems your sister might have another objection to add to her list against your potential fiancé.
* * * * *
Isobel was only minding her own business at the refreshment table. Her friend Mrs. Keel had asked about Cat and how she was enjoying the ball. And so Isobel was in the middle of listing all the eligible men her sister had danced with that evening when she was startled by a deep voice that came from close behind her.
“You forgot about me.”
In her surprised haste to turn around, Isobel tripped on her skirt and pitched forward. Strong arms caught her, but not in time to save most of her drink from spilling down the front of her dress. The cool liquid had soaked through the thin fabric by the time Isobel gathered her wits and righted herself.
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she looked up at her rescuer. But the words died on her lips. Her eyes narrowed and she forcefully pushed herself away from him.
“Lord Revere.” The words tasted bitter.
“Miss Masters,” he gave her an infuriating smirk.
“I suppose I should thank you,” Isobel spat the words at him.
“That is customary when a gentleman rescues a lady.”
“A gentleman? Rescues?” Isobel sputtered in indignation, her voice growing louder. She knew she was drawing attention to herself, but she could not let it pass. “But you caused this! You startled me and made me spill my drink. And now this dress is ruined and it’s all your fault!” Isobel stabbed her finger towards him.
Lord Revere looked as if he was trying not to laugh. Of course he wanted to laugh at her. It was what he did, what he had always done. He enjoyed making her look ridiculous and now he was doing it again.
“Izzy?” She heard Cat’s concerned voice and felt a hand on her bare arm. “What has happened? You’ve spilled your drink all over your new dress!”
“He made me!” Isobel knew the accusation sounded childish, but she wanted everyone to know that she had not caused this. This time it was someone else. But even as t
he words left her mouth, she knew pointing the finger at Lord Revere was hopeless. He was not the one with punch all down his front.
“I do apologize, Miss Masters,” his deep voice rumbled through the room. “I did not mean to startle you into spilling your drink.” Lord Revere held out his handkerchief. Isobel refused to take it.
Seeing that her sister wasn’t going to accept his help, Cat took the handkerchief. “Thank you, Lord Revere. That is very kind.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Catherine,” he bowed his head to her.
Aunt Hetty added her thanks and then took Isobel by the arm. “I think it’s time for us to depart, my dear.” Cat remained behind for a moment while Isobel and Aunt Hetty made their way out of the room.
“And what was all of that about?” Aunt Hetty asked. Isobel began to huff, but her aunt interrupted her. “Forget it. I never know what that man does to raise your ire so much.”
“He exists.”
Aunt Hetty chuckled. “After ten years of watching you two circle each other, waiting for the perfect time to stick a dagger in, I think it might finally be time to consider letting go of the past.”
“You say this as I stand here with a wet and ruined dress because of him. I can never forgive him, aunt. It is beyond my power.”
“What is beyond your power, sister?” Cat asked as she caught up with them.
“Letting go of the past and forgiving Lord Revere for his mistakes,” Aunt Hetty answered for her niece.
“Well, sister, I am afraid you will have to learn how to tolerate him even if you cannot forgive him.”
“What?” Isobel looked sharply at her sister.
“He asked to call tomorrow, and I said yes.”
“You agreed to see him?” Isobel exclaimed.
“I did. And you now have half a day to ready yourself for his presence in our parlor.”
Isobel seethed. “I feel a headache coming on.”
“No you do not. Izzy, I insist that you be there. There's something that intrigues me about him, Isobel, and I want you to like him, too. Would you deny your sister an eligible match?” Cat batted her eyelashes.
The Wrong Woman (Unexpected Love #1) Page 2
