Page 47 of One Night of Surrender
“Yes, but pray do not repay me in kind.”She shuddered with revulsion.“I do not want you matchmaking for me.”
“Life may surprise you, sister.”He winked at her, then went toward the door where the footman met him with his gloves and hat.
He dashed to his waiting coach and instructed the coachman to make the best possible time.He’d never been so eager to get to Almack’s in his life.
As Isabelle walked into the hallowed ballroom at Almack’s, she wondered how on earth she’d allowed the dowager duchess to persuade her to come.The answer, of course, was simple: she was the Dowager Duchess of Eastleigh, and one did not refuse the Dowager Duchess of Eastleigh.
But now that Isabelle was here beneath the glittering chandeliers and amidst the ton’s most elite, Isabelle was beginning to regret her decision.She glanced over at the dowager, whose expression could only be described as pleasant hauteur.The ostrich feathers atop her head gave her additional height, making her seem an even bigger presence than she already was.Though they’d just arrived, everyone around them was looking in her direction and murmuring as they cast looks—some surreptitious and others openly curious—in Isabelle’s direction.
Self-consciously, she smoothed the side of her hair, which had been swept into an impossibly complicated style with pearls and a bandeau that sported its own violet ostrich feather.Then she brushed her gloved hand along her hip, smoothing the line of her Saxon-blue gown.It belonged to Viola, but she’d never worn it, and the dowager’s maid had worked a miracle to alter it to fit Isabelle, including the addition of a violet flounce at the hem since Isabelle was a few inches taller than Viola.
Finding slippers had proven the biggest challenge and had required several footmen visiting countless cobblers and returning with a variety of footwear, all of which had been rejected by the dowager save the pair now adorning Isabelle’s feet.And pinching her toes, for they were just a bit too snug.
“Come and meet the patronesses, dear.”The dowager led Isabelle along the side of the ballroom to the opposite end, where several women seemed to be holding court from a group of sofas atop a dais.
Isabelle dipped into the curtsey she’d practiced too many times with Viola.The least she could have done was come with them, but she didn’t have a voucher, and she’d refused to allow her grandmother to obtain one.There was a deeper reason Viola avoided certain aspects of Society, but while Viola was content to meddle in other’s affairs, she did not reveal her own secrets.
And against her better judgment, Isabelle had allowed her to meddle.
After retreating to her chamber following her conversation with Viola that afternoon, Viola and the dowager had come to see her.The dowager had laid it out very clearly: if she wanted Val, she had to demonstrate that she could be a duchess, and that meant going to Almack’s and holding her own amongst Society’s most exclusive members.
That, of course, had done absolutely nothing to persuade Isabelle, which was why the dowager had then simply told her she was going.When Isabelle had asked why, she’d responded, “Because if my grandson is in love with you, as my granddaughter insists, then you shall give him the opportunity to recognize what a fool he is for not making you his duchess sooner.”
With logic like that, how could Isabelle have refused?
After paying their respects to the patronesses, they moved to a nearby sofa along one of the longer walls.“I am going to sit,” the dowager said.
“Should I also sit?”Isabelle hoped so.She felt rather vulnerable standing there.She realized she’d likely feel just as vulnerable if she hid herself in the corner all evening.
“Not until after you dance, and while the patronesses gave you permission to waltz, I’d be careful with whom you do.”
Isabelle’s heart began to pound, and her neck grew damp.She’d reviewed the basics of dancing with Viola in between dress fittings, but now that she was here with the orchestra playing and the dancers moving in beautiful harmony across the ballroom, she felt as if she might cast up her accounts.She’d been to an assembly or two, but that had been years ago, and it hadn’t been Almack’s.
Suddenly, the noise of the room diminished, the dancers became a blur, her pulse slowed.He was coming toward her.Dressed in a crisp black coat with a rich green waistcoat and the whitest, most intricately knotted cravat she’d ever seen.He was an apparition, a dream conjured by her twenty-year-old mind.
Did dreams bow?
Of course they did.
He presented his leg, then straightened to his full height.This seemed to restart everything around her—the sounds, the sights—as well as her feeling of disquiet.Her heart increased its pace once more, the cacophony of it echoing in her own ear.
Val turned to the dowager and inclined his head.“Good evening, Grandmama.”
She looked up at him approvingly.“Good evening, Eastleigh.”
He returned his attention to Isabelle.Her entire being thrilled at the sight of him.She didn’t have to look around to see if anyone saw what she saw—everyone did.They openly gaped at him, and all she could think was that it had to be incredibly uncomfortable.And yet he seemed hardly to notice.Indeed, he seemed to notice only one thing: her.
“I would be honored if you would dance the next set with me,” he said.“Will you?”
She wanted to caution him that his feet might not survive, but she could only manage a tiny squeak of a word.“Yes.”
He offered his arm, and she curled her hand around his sleeve.Though she’d touched him many times, and in far more intimate ways than she currently did, this was somehow different.They were on display for all the world to see.They’d come out of the shadows and into a dazzling light.There was no going back now.
She looked up at him, and his answering gaze told her that he knew it too.
“We’ll just promenade for a few moments while this set finishes,” he said.“May I say you look beautiful?”
“Thank you.So do you.Handsome, rather.”For a supposedly educated woman, she was having an incredibly difficult time finding words tonight.
