Within the hour, Nora was dressed, packed, and seated in the carriage as it began the journey to Isobel's estate. The farther they traveled from London, the lighter her heart felt. Perhaps some distance from both the city and a certain impossible duke was exactly what she needed.
The Dellamere estate was a sprawling property that spoke of old wealth and deliberate upkeep. As the carriage rolled up the long drive, Nora felt a wave of affection wash over her. This place hadalways felt like a true home, warm and welcoming in a way her father's house had never managed to be.
She had hardly stepped out of the carriage when she was ambushed.
“Aunt Nora! Aunt Nora!”
A swarm of small bodies launched themselves at her, nearly bowling her over with their enthusiasm. Nora laughed, spreading her arms wide to embrace as many of her nephews as she could reach. Her niece stood a few feet away, watching her brothers crowd around Nora with a frown, and Nora sent the sweet girl an apologetic smile before she returned her attention to the boys.
“Goodness! You are all going to knock me over!”
“Children!” Isobel's voice rang out from the entrance, equal parts exasperated and amused. “Give your aunt room to breathe! She has only just arrived!”
But the children paid their mother no mind, too excited by their aunt's unexpected visit to practice any sort of decorum. There were seven of them in total, ranging in age from two to twelve, and only one girl among the lot.
“Mother says that people who do not send word ahead of their arrival are rude!” Edmund, the eldest at twelve, stated with amildly judgmental expression. “But she says that it’s fine if it’s family who comes to visit!”
“Did Mama tell you we are getting a new pony?” added little William, bouncing on his toes.
“Is it true you are getting married this season, Aunt Nora?” This was from nine-year-old Fergus, named after Isobel's adoptive father. “Papa says you have lots of suitors.”
“I want to hear all about the balls!” Mary, the only girl and Nora's goddaughter, named after Isobel's adoptive mother, declared from where she stood.
Even at just eight years old, she was already showing signs of becoming a beauty like her mother.
Nora tried to answer all of them at once, but it was impossible with everyone talking over each other. Finally, Isobel managed to wade through the chaos and pull Nora into a proper embrace.
“I am so happy to see you,” Isobel said warmly, pulling back to examine her younger sister with a critical eye. “Though you look tired. Have you been sleeping well?”
“Well enough,” Nora lied, not ready to delve into the reasons for her restless nights.
“Come inside,” Isobel urged, linking her arm through Nora's. “You must be exhausted from the journey. I shall have teabrought to the drawing room, and you can tell me all about how the season is progressing.”
As they made their way inside, with the children trailing behind like a noisy flock of geese, Isobel continued her gentle fussing.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need to rest? I’ll have your usual room prepared soon, and – ”
“Isobel,” Nora interrupted gently. “Dear sister, I am perfectly fine. Truly.”
But Isobel's face had fallen, her formerly cheerful expression tainted by sadness.
“I am so sorry I have not been able to attend any of the season's events with you. With seven children to look after, I barely have time to breathe, let alone travel to London for balls and parties. I feel as though I have failed you as a sister.”
“You have not failed me at all,” Nora assured her firmly. “You said yourself – the children are hectic. With your own family to care for, I would not expect that you would make the journey all that way to watch me twirl around in a dress for hours. I know I have your support and well-wishes, regardless of your visible presence. And honestly, even if you had been there, I am not certain you could have helped. My season has been... complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Isobel's interest was immediately piqued, but before Nora could answer, Isobel’s husband entered the room.
“Nora!” Richard Harte, duke of Dellamere, greeted warmly, his handsome face breaking into a genuine smile. “What a wonderful surprise. We did not know you were coming.”
“It was a rather spontaneous decision,” Nora admitted as Richard bent to kiss her cheek affectionately.
“Well, you are always welcome here. You know that.” Richard settled into the chair beside Isobel, instinctively reaching for her hand. The casual intimacy of the gesture made Nora's heart twist with an emotion she could not quite name.
Richard spared a smile for his wife before he faced Nora again, his eyes sparkling with interest.
“So, tell us. How goes the great husband hunt?”
Isobel shot him a reproachful look, but there was fondness in it. Richard had always been blunt, favouring directness over the idea of beating around the bush for some needless reason, but never cruelly so. Still, Nora had hoped for some sort of warning or more time before she had to delve into the mess of things.
