Page 32 of The Lover's Eye
A servant’s footsteps came into the room and stopped short.“Oh—forgive me, my lord.I was not aware you had a caller.”
A slow, catlike smile curled Lord Ridgeway’s lips.“That’s all right.Bring it anyhow, will you?”
Giles stared straight ahead as the footman crossed the room and laid a rosewood jewelry box on the desk.The viscount carefully opened the lid, nodding his approval.“This was a gift to the late Lady Ridgeway,” he said, spinning the box around to face Giles.“I only draw it out for exceedingly special occasions.I’ve had it cleaned, so that Isobel can wear it to the ball.It’s a miniature of my own eye—you see?”
Oh, how Giles wished he hadn’t seen.It was uncanny, the resemblance this necklace bore to the one he knew.A halo of white stones surrounded a painted amber eye, delicate strokes of watercolor lending it frightening realism.
Lord Ridgeway was looking at him smugly, as though this well-timed interruption proved the strength of his argument.As if it made it more real that Isobel would be primped and jeweled and betrothed within days.
Unfortunately, it did.Aurelia had worn a similar piece to the Everly’s summer soirée just last year, onhisarm, as his betrothed.
“I have just one question,” Giles said, tearing his gaze from the jewelry box and back to the viscount’s eyes.“What are Miss Isobel’s feelings on the matter?”
Lord Ridgeway clamped the box shut.“She has made her decision.”
12
Three weeks later
Isobel felt exposed the moment her cape was taken at the Everly’s door.The cool April air circulated in the entry hall, raising gooseflesh above her low neckline.She was self-conscious, excruciatingly aware of the heavy pendant scraping her throat.
Her papa had given her the necklace to wear, and even his gruff manner could not conceal the significance of the piece.It had been her mother’s.The gold neck chain drooped with the weight of seven opals, arranged around a hand painted miniature of Lord Ridgeway’s eye.
Isobel had never worn it before and had only seen it a few times in her life, when her father brought it down from his special hiding place.The only other time she had seen it worn was around Marriane’s neck—to the last ball she attended before her engagement to Pemberton.
Knowing her papa treated the piece as some sort of sober farewell to his daughters’ innocence made it feel obstructive, not sentimental.And, truthfully, Isobel found the lover’s eye trend ghastly.She would have preferred a full miniature.A pleasant, identifiable face.No mystery, no intrigue.
Isobel and Elias were being greeted by their hostess, whose eyes twinkled veritably.This look, and the high compliments Lady Everly levelled at the young couple, only made Isobel more nervous.She felt as if someone were tightlacing her stays until they stole all but a thin thread of her breath.
Lady Everly knew, the necklace knew,everyone and everythingknew.There was a cloying congratulatory air around every turn; Isobel may as well have been wearing a stone from Elias Sempill on her finger.
“You do look beautiful,” he said, lowering his mouth to Isobel’s ear as they wove through the crush of people and toward the ballroom.
It was a compliment as dry and common as a loaf of burnt bread, and tasted as bitter to Isobel, too.She elected not to answer.Heaven knows it would not be the first time she had ignored Elias tonight.
She had held true to her word and not entertained the Sempills a day in the four weeks since Elias had behaved so brutishly with her in the woods.She had pled megrims and stomachaches and simple fatigue on every occasion the Sempills had dared to show their faces at Ridgeway House.She had barely interacted with her father aside from mealtimes, preferring to stay locked up in her room, reading and scribbling notations into the commonplace book Lord Trevelyan had given her.
The mere thought of him made her eyes flit across the crowded room.He had possessed such exact knowledge of this event, and Isobel had caught herself wondering time and time again if he would be in attendance.Not that she could enjoy his presence, if he were.She would be glued to Elias’s arm the whole of the night.It was what she had to do—survive it, and she could climb into the coach tomorrow morning and flee for Northumberland.
Remarkably, her blatant renunciation of the Sempills didn’t seem to trouble anyone overmuch.They still expected she would give them the only thing they desired more than her acquiescing disposition, and marry Elias sooner or later.
No doubt their tongues been wagging far and wide, if the reception from Lady Everly was any indication.Every eye that fell on them was curious, glimmering with quiet approval.Isobel could almost read their thoughts.A fine match.A handsome couple.A favorable pairing for both families.
Her strength lay in her secret: she was not going to return from Northumberland.
The air inside the ballroom was nothing like that of the open doors.It was thick and humid with the exhalations of so many lungs, smelling more of spirits and perspiration than of perfume and pomade.Isobel flicked open her carved ivory fan, beating it in front of her face until the black ringlets trembled at her cheekbones.
“I thought you just said you were cold,” Elias said.
“And now I am hot,” she replied curtly, not looking at him.
Strains of music bled over the room and above the swimming heads of attendees.Monstrous arrangements of flowers, raised in hot houses, were situated in every corner and littered upon every surface.
Isobel usually loved the blooms, but seeing their severed stems and smelling their powdery saccharinity did nothing for her.She wanted to see them flourish in the open garden, coaxed to life by the sun and left to prosper.
A country dance was being called by the Master of Ceremonies, and she was obliged to follow Elias out onto the waxen floor.Dancing couples surrounded them, and beyond, rows of people clustered the walls.Everything was hot.The embroidered hem of her neckline and sleeves scratched against her skin.She wanted nothing more than to go home, but Elias was taking her hands.She was thankful for the thick barrier of her long kid gloves; she might have fainted if she had to feel his skin against hers again.
His sharp blue eyes searched her face.Had he said something?
