“No, my lady.”
“Perhaps it is inside,” Catriona offered, leaning forward.
Isolde already had a strong suspicion as to who had sent the package. No need to let her mother, Mariah, and Catriona see its contents. They would hound her for answers.
“That will be all, Marshall.” Isolde dismissed the butler with a nod. “I shall open it later,” she said to her family, setting the package on a side table.
“Open it later?! Are ye mad?” Snatching the parcel off the table, Mariah danced away from Isolde’s grasp.
“Mariah.” Isolde’s voice held a warning. “It isn’t for yourself.” Standing, she lunged for the book.
Her sister darted out of reach, ripping at the paper.
“Mariah!” Their mother rose to her feet. “Such behavior is most unladylike!”
Of course, Mariah heeded them not at all. Underscoring, yet again, why Isolde hid her private correspondence from her siblings. Racing around the room and dodging all of Isolde’s attempts to claim the parcel, her sister succeeded in unwrapping the book.
Mariah read the title and froze, a scowl creasing her brow. “What the devil. Who would send ye this, Isolde?”
“Mariah! Language!” Lady Hadley rose and firmly removed the book from her youngest daughter’s hand, before glancing down at the title herself. “Mrs. Sigourney’sLetters to Young Ladies?That is an unexpectedly fastidious choice of gift.” She handed the book to Isolde. “Surely all our acquaintance know you would deride such pedantry.”
Isolde forced a laugh, scrambling for an explanation. “Ah, now I recall. I requested a copy from the bookseller on Berwick Street.”
“You wished to consult an etiquette guide?” Her mother frowned. “At this juncture in your life?”
“Aye,” Isolde replied brightly. “As ye said, I enjoy scoffing at just such a thing. I . . . I thought we could read it of an evening and mock its absurdities.”
Her mother blinked, obviously sensing subterfuge in Isolde’s claim, but as the book and her reasoning were blameless, Lady Hadley could voice no objection.
“As you say,” her mother finally replied. “Mariah,” she turned to her youngest daughter, “you will come with me. We have matters to discuss.”
“Mamma!” Mariah rolled her eyes. “It was only a jest.”
“Regardless, you are out in Society now and such behavior is beyondthe pale.” Her mother turned for the door, beckoning. “Come. If you are not careful, I shall have you read Isolde’s new etiquette guide in earnest.”
The door closed behind them.
Silence settled in their wake, leaving Isolde and Catriona to stare at one another.
Turning, Catriona bent over the lace and ribbon again, picking through it woodenly.
Isolde held what she suspected to be Kendall’s ‘gift’ stiffly at her side, the book’s leather binding heavy with portent.
“It will come right, Cat,” she said softly. “Ye will still marry your Barnie. We will all see tae it.”
Her sister nodded, but Isolde did not miss how Catriona bit her quivering lip.
Isolde walked over to the window, fighting against a tightness in her own throat.
Damn Kendall and his machinations.
Hands tingling with nerves, she opened the book, tilting it into the light. A quick shuffle of the pages revealed no note.
No. His Grace had been careful.
The blackguard had underlined passages onexcessive volubilityandmeekness to social superiors, emphasizing the deference a lady should demonstrate when interacting with a gentleman.
She slammed the book shut and tossed it atop the window seat.
