A snort carried across the room, courtesy of Miss Bretagne, Isabel knew without looking. For her part, Miss Fox held Isabel’s gaze as she dipped into a shallow curtsy. The watchfulness of Miss Fox’s eye didn’t allow one to relax.
Cheswick exhaled a blustery breath and gave his protuberant belly a few pats. “Duchess, I am not what I used to be. A short lie-down might be in order.”
“Who amongst us is, Cheswick?” The Duchess signaled a servant. “Show the baron to Cowslip.”
“Cowslip?” asked the observant Miss Fox.
“The bedrooms are all named for flowers, my dear. We’ll put you in Primrose.” Miss Fox’s lips might have twitched with amusement. “Might you be in need of rest, too?”
Miss Fox shook her head. “I already feel enlivened by the good company of this room.”
“I believe I shall follow Cheswick’s lead and seek a rest,” added Montfort.
With the departure of Montfort, Isabel noted a release of tension from Eva’s body. If he’d been surprised by the presence of Eva, he hadn’t betrayed the emotion. A splinter of portent wedged itself inside Isabel’s mind. Both of them on the estate, each knowing the other was here, was no good thing.
“Oh, I know what we can do to counter the boredom of this deadly dull day,” called out Miss Bretagne. “Let’s ride out to the eerie ruined monastery that the Vikings destroyed a thousand years ago. Mina, does that sound interesting enough for you?”
Miss Radclyffe rested her book on her lap. “Yes.”
The Duchess set her hands on her hips. “And who will be your chaperone? I must meet with Cook and Butler about preparations for our village breakfast and dance. I cannot think who would venture out with you in this oppressive heat.”
Malicious glint in her eye, Miss Bretagne smiled. “My new step-mama, of course. What a wonderful opportunity to become properly acquainted with one another. Really, it would be a tragedy to allow the chance to slip away.”
Isabel opened her mouth to make her excuses when Eva spoke. “Isabel would love nothing more.”
A flummoxed beat passed. “And you, dear sister?” Isabel asked, hoping to give Eva a taste of her own tonic. “Won’t you join?”
Eva shook her head. “I shall stay here and draw inspiration from Lady Bertrand about what new designs I should create for the Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe’s dresses.” When Miss Bretagne’s face twisted with doubt, Eva winked at the girl. “Inspiration comes from many sources, no?”
“Possibly,” Miss Bretagne said slowly, her misgiving not the least assuaged. “So, what say you, dearest step-mama?”
Isabel commanded her mouth to curve into the impression of a smile. “I should like nothing more.”
Miss Fox gave a delicate clearing of her throat. “Would you mind very much if I joined your little party? I do love a good ruin.”
Miss Bretagne clapped her hands together. “It’s settled. We meet in the stables fifteen minutes hence.”
~ ~ ~
Isabel relaxed into the easy trot of her mount.
Ahead, the Misses Bretagne and Radclyffe, along with Lord Avendon, galloped across verdant fields, tall grass swaying in a breeze scented with salt from the nearby sea, its shimmer in the far distance. A thick blanket of clouds had rolled in and cooled the air, making it perfectly pleasant for a ride.
Isabel, meanwhile, kept pace with a silent Miss Fox as it was obvious Miss Bretagne had had no intention of becoming further acquainted with her new step-mama. Isabel almost felt insulted. Then she remembered who she was.
“What a dashing love match you and Lord Percival have made,” Miss Fox observed out of the not-so-clear blue sky.
Isabel stared ahead and emitted a noncommittal, “Hmm.”
“But true love is quite a force, no?”
“Hmm.”
“Unstoppable.”
“You speak as if from experience,” Isabel replied, hoping to catch the woman on her left foot.
Miss Fox chuckled. If a laugh could be a shrug, hers was. “Never, Lady Percival. I believe myself uniquely immune to love’s particular poison. But I, like many a spinster before me, am a keen observer of it. And you are positively glowing from its salubrious effects. Unless, of course, you’ve caught a summer fever.”
