Page 55 of Duchess in Disguise
“I am,” Isobel said with a nod, hoping her smile looked genuine.
An elderly gentleman with a bushy white mustache wagged his finger at Adrian playfully. “Leaving such a beautiful young woman alone for so long, Your Grace! Shame on you. Another man might have tried to steal her away.”
Adrian's expression became grave, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I assure you, Lord Bellingham, no such theft could have occurred. And now that I am here, I have no intention of leaving Miss Wightman's side again.”
“Quite right, quite right,” Lord Bellingham chuckled.
They made their way around the ballroom, stopping to exchange pleasantries with various guests. Isobel found herself relaxing into the role, accepting congratulations and well-wishes with practiced grace. Adrian remained at her side throughout, his presence steady and reassuring even if his demeanor remained somewhat formal.
Just as she had begun to feel a little drained, she caught sight of her father across the room. Gregory stood near the refreshment table, his expression gleeful as he surveyed the gathering. But when his eyes met Isobel's, something flickered across his face, and she recalled it had been a moment since they had conferred on the matter of the culprit.
“If you will excuse me for a moment,” Isobel said to Adrian, “I should speak with my father. I have not had a chance to greet him properly this evening.”
Adrian nodded graciously. “Of course. I shall wait here.”
Isobel made her way through the crowd, her heart beating faster with each step. She had been avoiding her father as much as possible since their last conversation, but she could not put it off forever. Not when she had information that might finally bring this nightmare to an end.
“Father,” she said quietly when she reached him, dropping into a small curtsy.
“Valerie,” Gregory replied, his voice equally low as he reached for a crab cake. “You are playing your part well. The guests seem entirely convinced.”
The praise felt hollow, and Isobel had to bite back a sharp retort. Instead, she cleared her throat and lowered her voice to inform him that,
“I believe we have found something that does generate some suspicion. And I do have a suspect to tie the clue to.”
Gregory regarded her with mild curiosity. “Well then? Out with it.”
Isobel glanced around the room for a moment before she leaned in closer.
“I suspect Aunt Deborah has something to do with this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Your aunt? My sister?” Gregory balked, eyes wide with shock.
Isobel nodded. “She has been acting strangely. I spotted her twice wandering around the hallways at night – one near the attic where Valerie is. And I found – I thought it best to look into her a little closer, and during my search, I discovered some sort of letter among her possessions. Whoever wrote it meant to warn Valerie, but it somehow ended up in Deborah’s possession instead. Do you not think that is strange? I think she is responsible for Valerie’s state.”
Her father was silent for a while, then he nodded.
“I have no reason to think otherwise. While I personally have not noticed my sister acting strange, I will trust in your deduction. Now, what remains is proof.”
“Proof? But I just said –”
“We cannot make accusations blindly, or we risk endangering the wedding if we are wrong. My sister was once a wealthy woman, but her husband’s mistakes caused them to lose everything. She is likely doing this out of jealousy for what our family is about to gain from Valerie’s wedding to the duke. You must find a way to keep her from sabotaging our efforts.” He leaned in, and she could smell the wine on his breath. “You must dig deeper, child. Engage her. Provoke her. Find something concrete. No matter what it takes, you must secure this wedding. Everything else is secondary to the integrity of the arrangement.”
Isobel felt a cold wave of disgust wash over her. Her father was shamelessly and selfishly willing to throw her into the direct path of a potential killer to secure his own financial reputation.
He is blatantly telling me to risk my life so he can line his pockets.
Before she could respond, a hand clamped down on her elbow—firm, possessive, and radiating suppressed heat. She knew the touch before she even heard his voice.
“Miss Wightman,” his voice was clipped, dangerous. “You have been monopolized by the Baron long enough. I believe this next dance is mine.”
He pulled her away from Gregory, who merely scowled at the interruption. As Richard led her onto the floor, Isobel looked up into his face, sighing in relief as he took her farther away from her annoying father, her breath stuttering as she realized thathe was upset. His blue eyes had traded their usual sternness for terrifying anger. He wasn't just annoyed; he was enraged.
The music began, the tempo quick and upbeat, and Richard’s strong hand closed around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. The contact was so utterly distracting that it felt as though she had forgotten where she was and who she was with.
“What did he say to you?” Richard demanded, his voice low, matching the rapid beat of the music.
