Nora sighed, accepting the cup of tea a servant had just poured for her. “That is the complicated part. My efforts are being thoroughly undermined.”
“Undermined?” Isobel leaned forward with a frown. “By whom?”
“By Cecil's friend,” Nora said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. “Before he left on his trip, Cecil asked the Duke of Ironwell to look after me. To be my escort to social functions and ensure my safety.”
“The Duke of Ironwell?” Richard's eyebrows rose. “Godric Millington? I did not realize he had returned to society.”
“He has,” Nora confirmed bitterly. “And he has made it his personal mission to ruin my life.”
“Surely it cannot be that bad,” Isobel said soothingly.
“Oh, I assure you, sister. It can, and it is,” Nora set down her teacup with more force than necessary. “He is overbearing and aloof and cold, and he follows me everywhere like some sort of particularly judgmental shadow. He frightens away potential suitors with his mere presence, and when they are brave enough to approach anyway, he finds ways to humiliate them or send them running. I cannot stand him!”
Even as the words left her mouth, Nora felt the lie of them. She could stand him sometimes – a little too well, perhaps. But admitting that, even to herself, felt like a betrayal of her own goals.
Isobel, however, was watching her with far too much perception in her eyes. A small smile played at the corners of her lips.
“Is that all he is? Overbearing and cold?”
“Yes,” Nora said firmly. “Absolutely. He is insufferable, and I hate him, and I wish Cecil had never asked him to look after me.”
“Mmm,” Isobel hummed noncommittally. “And yet, your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are bright, and you cannot seem to stop talking about him.”
“That is because he is ruining my season!”
“Or perhaps,” Isobel suggested gently, “He is simply doing what he believes is best for you. Men often express their care through protection, even when it feels overbearing to us.”
“Care?” Nora scoffed. “He does not care about me. He is only fulfilling an obligation to Cecil. In fact, I am certain his true plan is to ensure I remain unmarried forever, doomed to live out my days alone with nothing but a hoard of cats for company.”
Richard, who had been listening to this exchange with growing amusement, suddenly frowned. “Why would you want to live with cats? Do they not make you ill? You have always been sensitive to them.”
Before Nora could respond, the sound of children calling for their father echoed from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Duty calls,” Richard said with a fond sigh. He rose, pressing a kiss to Isobel's lips that lingered just long enough to make Noralook away, and then leaned down to press another kiss on Nora's cheek. “We are glad you are here, Nora. Stay as long as you like.”
After Richard departed to attend to their children, Isobel turned her full attention back to Nora, her expression growing more serious.
“Speaking of your season,” she said carefully, “how is Father? Is he interfering at all with your search for a husband?”
Nora shrugged. “He has barely been home lately. He spends most of his time at his gentlemen's club, gambling and drinking away what little fortune we have left. But at least he is not bothering me about my debut.”
Something flickered across Isobel's face, a mixture of concern and hesitation.
“What is it?” Nora asked, recognizing the look of reluctance right away.
She could not imagine why – could not think of anything that needed to be withheld, but it seemed as though Isobel was keeping something from her.
“Oh, Nora,” Isobel sighed. “You do not know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Father did try to interfere,” Isobel revealed gently. “He came to both Valerie and me several months ago, claiming he had identified several prospective suitors for you. Men who would be 'ideal' matches due to their wealth.”
Nora's stomach dropped. “What?”
“He wanted to arrange your marriage himself,” Isobel continued. “To sell you off to the highest bidder, essentially. But Valerie, Cecil, and I stopped him. We made it very clear that you would choose your own husband, and that he was to stay out of it entirely.”
For a moment, Nora could not breathe. The casual cruelty of it, the reduction of her entire future to a financial transaction, was so typical of Gregory Wightman that she should not have been surprised. And yet, she was.
