Many of the women also wore brilliant, sparkling jewelry, having pulled out their best finery to start the season in style.
All the bodies moving around the room and the voices mixed with the music made Isolde feel almost immediately overwhelmed. She was relieved when Annora swept up to greet them.
Isolde introduced Annora to Thaddeus, and then Annora ushered them inside. Isolde was surprised when Thaddeus took her arm and did not let go.
In fact, he was suddenly very attentive, and she felt flustered every time their gazes met. It was as though stepping through the doorway and into the public eye had transformed him into the perfect doting suitor.
Confusion mixed with the nerves in Isolde’s stomach. He’d barely said two words to her in the carriage, had not looked at her once – how could he now gaze on her with such warmth and affection?
Annora introduced them to too many people for Isolde to keep count. She then begged their forgiveness as she went to help her mother with something.
Not long after that, a gentleman came up to Thaddeus and asked to speak with him about a business matter. They ducked off into an alcove, with Thaddeus assuring her he’d be back soon, and Isolde just nodded mutely.
She knew this would be a perfect time to move about the room, to speak to some other gentlemen, perhaps even dance – but her anxiety was bordering on giving her a stomachache, and the room felt too hot. She now longed for the cool night air. Peering around and finding herself unobserved, she slipped out of one of the tall doorways into the gardens.
Sighing with relief at not just the fresh air but the lack of eyes staring at her, she made her way further from the house.Lanterns had been hung about the garden, and she followed their inviting glow.
Once she was far enough that the buzz and clamor of the party had faded, she settled herself on a stone bench. It was cold and hard, but the silence was so comforting that she didn’t mind. She sighed and tried to sort through her jumbled feelings.
“Well,” said a voice that made her spine stiffen, “who do we have here?”
Isolde turned toward the voice in dread, already recognizing it. And yes, indeed, Lord Crowley stood not five paces away, a wide grin on his reddened face.
“Lord Crowley,” she gasped, jumping up from the bench and stepping away from him. He pouted, his words slurring as he spoke.
“No, no, don’t run away. Why, don’t you know that’ll hurt my feelings? I’ll think you don’t wish to see me.”
Isolde pressed her lips together to keep from rising to the bait and informing him that wasexactlyhow she felt.
He teetered toward her, and she could smell that he reeked of alcohol. She realized, belatedly, that he was between her and the path back to the house. Her heart started to race.
“Sweet little Isolde,” he said, taking a step forward and sitting down on the bench. She wrinkled her nose at his familiarity. He tapped the bench beside him. “Sit back down and speak with me a while, eh? Keep me company.”
Surely he was mad to think that she would do such a thing. Not only would sitting here in the near dark with him cause all sorts of gossip, should they be found, but there could hardly be a less appealing picture than the one before her.
Crowley was staring at her with thinly concealed lust, his mouth hanging half-open. She wondered, if she ran, if he would let her go. Or would he chase after her? A shudder passed through her at the thought.
“Fine, if you don’t want to speak to me, I’ll speak to you. I bet I know something you don’t.” He laughed to himself, but his eyes stayed on her, sweeping up and down her body. She felt sick. “Bet your precious marquess didn’t tell you how you came to be engaged. But I was there. I know. It was a card game. And he wasn’t even playing! It should have been between me and your father. That’s how these things are always decided. But he had to come poking his nose into other people’s business.”
Crowley slumped down on the bench, anger spilling across his face.
“It’s jus’ luck, that’s all,” he mumbled. “Men like him get all the luck. I was going to win the game. I know I was. You would have been mine. He stole you from me. What do you think of that, eh?” He peered up at her, alcohol and anger clouding his eyes. She felt repulsion ripple through her body at his gaze but refused to show it.
“Lord Crowley, I’m going inside now,” she said, unable to keep a tiny tremor from her voice. Squaring her shoulders, she started to walk past him.
For a moment, she thought he was going to let her leave, but then just as she was nearly past him, he shot to his feet, his arm coming up in front of her. She stumbled back and found he’d raised his other arm as well, practically encircling her.
She twisted away from him, but he moved with her, the pair nearly falling as he pushed her up against a nearby hedge.
“Let go, let go!” she cried. Branches from the hedge scratched her back through the thin fabric of her gown.
“Stop squirming,” he snarled. “Should have been mine. Will be mine. Anyone finds us like this, what will your precious marquess say to that, eh?” His breath was hot against her face, and she fought back tears. She mustn’t fall apart now. She had to fight him off, get away from him, before anyone –
There were footsteps on the path, and Isolde’s eyes darted in that direction, hoping against all odds it might be Annora – but her heart sank.
There, staring straight at her as she stood pinned against the hedge by Crowley’s arms, was the Marquess of Hartington.
Chapter 6
