CHAPTER 1
“Ican’t believe you’re going to marry the Duke of Windhill,” Miss Ginger gushed, putting a hand on Isabella’s arm.
Isabella Abberton beamed, even though what she really wanted most of all was to pull away from Miss Ginger, who usually ignored her altogether at balls. Once or twice, Isabella had seen Miss Ginger bent close to some of the other ladies of the ton, their eyes on Isabella—or worse, on her younger sister, Felicity—clearly whispering and gossiping about them. And Isabella knew why. It was easy to gossip about someone who was the illegitimate, ill-favored daughter of a viscount—the child he’d had long ago with a maid before marrying his wife.
At least today, the gossip was something positive—something she was pleased to have people talking about.
“I can hardly believe it myself,” Isabella said, smiling graciously at Miss Ginger. Years of socializing with these people had taughther to put on a false face. No one would ever know how frustrated she was. No one would see through her disguise.
“No one has even seen the Duke of Windhill in years,” Miss Ginger breathed.
“Well, that’s not quite true,” Isabella argued. “People have seen him.”
“All right, he’s been seen out and about on occasion,” Miss Ginger allowed. “But he doesn’tsocialize. He never comes to parties, and every lady who’s dreamed of being the one to capture his attention and have him as her husband has always been disappointed. How is it that he came to choose you?”
There was definitely jealousy in her tone.Good.
“I don’t know how he made his choice,” Isabella said. “He must have seen me and found me intriguing—that’s the only thing I can imagine.”
“You didn’t have a courtship, then?”
“No, he said that he was so eager to make things official between us that he simply couldn’t bring himself to wait.”
“How did you meet him? I thought he wasn’t even looking for a match!”
“Oh, he knows my father.” Isabella waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, what does that matter? The point is that I’m going to marry the Duke. I’ll make certain you’re invited to the wedding, Miss Ginger. I’m sure it will be an event to remember.”
“I never would have guessed…” Miss Ginger made a show of stopping herself mid-sentence.
Isabella knew what Miss Ginger hadn’t said, of course, and knew that Miss Ginger had stopped herself so that she could encourage Isabella to ask her to say it. It was a petty game. Still, Isabella would play. “You never would have guessed what?” she asked, pretending not to know what the answer would be.
“Well, I never would have guessed that the Duke, of all people, would want to marry…well, someone like you! When he could have anyone he wanted! Do you know what made him decide to do that?”
“I suppose you’d have to ask him,” Isabella said airily. “Perhaps he’s not as shallow as most of the ton. Perhaps it doesn’t trouble him to know that my mother wasn’t a lady.”
“I mean, you’re not truly a lady yourself, are you?” Miss Ginger asked. “If your mother wasn’t.”
Isabella laughed. She was used to these comments. “You know perfectly well who my father is,” she said. “If you want to go up to him and offer that opinion, tell him that you don’t think his daughter is a lady, I invite you to do so.”
Miss Ginger’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to say anything to the Viscount.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Isabella said. Miss Ginger’s father was only a baron. Isabella suspected that that had a great deal to do with Miss Ginger’s decision to be as obsessed with titles as she was. She would have liked to demean Isabella by making her believe that her position in society didn’t really count because of who her mother had been.
But Isabella had accepted the truth of her parentage a long time ago, and if she was honest, it was more difficult for her to accept her father than it had ever been to accept her mother. Her mother had been loving and kind, and she’d always treated her daughters with the utmost care. Meanwhile, the Viscount tended to act as if he had one daughter—Rosalind—and two ladies who had happened to come under his guardianship but for whom he felt no affection.
“Isabella!”
Isabella’s younger sister grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the dance floor. Isabella went along willingly, even though Felicity looked angry. She didn’t want a public argument, and she was more than happy to get away from Miss Ginger. The most important thing about tonight’s event was to help her sister make a good impression on the gentlemen of the ton so that someone might choose to court her even though she was the daughter of a maid.
“What is this?” Isabella asked as her sister pulled her out onto a secluded patio. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
“I’msureyou know,” Felicity said.
Isabella thought she might. “Is this about the Duke of Windhill?”
“Yes, it is! You’re all anyone is talking about tonight, Isabella. People are saying you’re engaged to the Duke!”
“I knew that was bound to get around.” Isabella sat down on a stone bench and smoothed her skirts. The gown she wore was secondhand, having once belonged to her half-sister, Rosalind. Even though Rosalind was five years younger than Isabella herself, she was larger in stature and in girth, making it possible for Isabella to wear her cast-offs. As for Felicity, she was tiny compared even with Isabella, and Isabella often found it necessary to take in Rosalind’s old clothes to make them appropriate for her sister. She had done that on the gown Felicity wore tonight, and she took a moment now to admire it. She had done a good job with it, she thought. She’d added some ribbon to it to make it look special, like something more than just a cast-off that Rosalind no longer wanted. If Rosalind realized Isabella had done that, she would be angry—she became jealous so easily. But her anger would be directed at Isabella, and Isabella didn’t mind that. What was important was that Felicity was having a good experience tonight.
