She pushed away, and he let go of her reluctantly. The heat in her cheeks burned deeper.
When he escorted her to the gardens, she was still so flustered that she didn’t say goodnight.
Chapter 19
Isobel
“I’ve come to warn you,” Clara panted as she barged into Isobel’s room. “Dick’s parents are here.”
Isobel stopped in her tracks, frowning.Dickwould be Lord Richard. He should know better than to invite his relations to someone else’s home, especially when there was so much preparation to do for the ball. Perhaps she’d accidentally approved the meeting whilst busy daydreaming about starships and their pilots. Or, one pilot in particular. Had he mentioned it while she wasn’t paying attention?
“Was I told they were coming?” Isobel asked at last. “I feel like I should have been told.”
“Allegedly, it was very last minute, and he asked Papa last night if he could bring them over for a visit before the ball. Cook has been stressing out over the cooking all morning! I’m surprised we didn’t notice anything was the matter sooner.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Isobel had somehow never formally met Lord Richard’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Gisham. She’d only seen them once or twice at events over the years, and they alwayslooked pompous and stern, as though their sole purpose in life was to judge everyone else. Already, she felt exhausted by the interaction.
“We can go together to meet them,” Clara said. “They’re currently in the eastern gardens, taking leisure, but will soon be up for tea.”
“You’re the best of allies.”
“Of course I am,” her niece replied, pushing her shoulders back in pride. “But you are, too. How many times have you saved me from meeting with that one snot-nosed earl’s son? And sneaked me medical books? We Nott women must take care of each other.”
That settled it, then. If they were Xaal, Clara would absolutely be her bruvya.
Arm in arm, they marched to the formal drawing room like soldiers heading to war.
“How is everything?” Isobel asked as they sat on the sofa beside each other.
Clara rolled her eyes. “Exhausting. You are so lucky you’re able to avoid some of these events. The gentlemen are all soboring. I swear they’re all the same, just with different noble names attached to them. I’d much rather you regale me with what’s kept you so busy, out and about. You seem … happier,” Clara tested with an expectant brow raise.
Isobel shrugged. “Perhaps the fresh air does me well.” But her mind immediately went to Ved—his ship, Exxo, the things they’d shared together. An entire other universe existed in the confines of his ship.
Clara pursed her lips skeptically. “Always so bloody secretive,” she muttered.
Isobel wished she could tell Clara everything, but the secrets she harbored were much too dangerous. As she contemplated a world where they weren’t, she nearly missed Clara’s insistent throat clearing and the footsteps of the approaching party.
“So,” the imperious voice of the Duchess of Gisham drawled, “this is the woman that has my youngest son ready to settle down again?”
Isobel stood to find the Duke, Duchess, Lord Richard and Henry all staring at her from the drawing room doorway. The Duchess looked her up and down with all the assessment of a stern governess. To anyone else, it would probably appear as though she were simply taking note of Isobel’s dress and appearance. But Isobel knew. It was a look of quiet distaste. Of barely concealed disapproval.
Isobel hated that she was aware of the things people didn’t say or let truly show on their faces. The micro expressions, the minor changes in their tone and body language. She hated that, after all this time of dealing with it, the judgment of other people could still hold so much power over her.
The Duchess’s scrutiny was overwhelming, and Isobel suddenly wished she was anywhere but in front of her. Words couldn’t seem to form—no explanations, no polite change of subject.
It would be a lovely time to have Ved’s invisibility device.
Surprisingly, it was Lord Richard who came to her rescue. “Now, Mother, don’t embarrass me in front of Lord Nott, who has been gracious enough to entertain us until the Flints’ ball.”
The Duchess swept into the room like she was the Queen, waving her youngest son’s remark away. She was a short woman, but her attire was gaudy, including a too-large brooch and a blocky necklace encrusted with rubies. Everything about her screamed that she was wealthy and wanted everyone to know it.
Once everyone was settled with tea, the conversation turned to what was going on in Gisham. As the Duke droned on, the Duchess continued to examine Isobel. Even when she sipped from her cup, she studied her over the brim of it, eyes narrowed. Isobel tried her best to ignore it, but it was difficult.
Eventually, the woman’s attention turned to Clara, who was smiling and laughing at all the appropriate moments and asking questions that would send Lord Richard or the Duke talking about something else. Whether or not she fully accepted her role, Clara didn’t necessarily have to pretend. She was a natural.
The Duchess put up her hand, and Henry stopped speaking mid-sentence. “Richard?” she said in an annoying coo. “Why did you not choose this one here?”
She gestured to Clara, whose smile faltered on her lips. She shifted uncomfortably as she looked from the Duchess to her father.
