“Are at home where they belong,” Damien replied firmly.
Without further conversation, the earl took Isabella’s gloved hand and placed it on his arm. As they stepped inside the church vestibule, Isabella grew aware of the sudden hushed silence of the congregation. Her knees felt weak, and she was very glad for the strong support of Damien’s arm. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the entire crowd staring at her.
The earl’s arm felt strong and solid beneath her fingers, but a slight trembling drew her attention. Although one would ever know by looking at him, the earl was nervous. Isabella could sense it, could feel it. To the world he might present a totally calm, totally in-command facade, but in truth he was hiding his fear. This newly revealed vulnerability hit her with a blinding force.
Damien was only here because of her, because he felt she needed his protection. He had put his own misgivings aside in order to lend her his support. She had rarely, if ever, experienced any sort of unselfish consideration. Isabella’s tender heart soared.
Still reeling from her turbulent discovery, she did not at first realize that the earl was leading her toward his family pew at the front of the church.
“You know, of course, this is highly improper,” Isabella said pointedly as they slowly began the long walk down the center aisle. Feeling the gawking eyes of the congregation on her back compelled her to add in a quiet whisper, “I should be seated in the same pew as the other household servants from The Grange.”
“And deprive me of the pleasure of your company?” Damien declared with a wounded look. “Besides, we both know you are far more than a servant in my home.”
Isabella was startled by the remark, yet, conscious of the many eyes upon her, she kept her expression plain.
“Some of these people will probably misinterpret your actions and think I am your mistress,” she hissed, wondering if somehow that obvious conclusion escaped the earl.
“I rather hope they do think that,” Damien replied smoothly. “Although bringing one’s mistress to church must surely be considered the height of bad taste. A crime I imagine all my pompous neighbors would think I am quite capable of committing. Still, if they believe I am keeping a mistress, it might be the single piece of gossip that finally squashes the nasty rumors about my impregnating all the housemaids.”
Isabella made a squeaking noise, and Damien flashed her a wicked grin before continuing.
“Of course, there is also your striking physical resemblance to Emmeline.” The earl reached over and squeezed the hand that tightly gripped his arm. “Please, Isabella, at least allow me the pleasure of startling some of these old gossips into speculation. I was hoping some of the more nearsighted members of this holy congregation might actually believe you are Emmeline. Ah, there is Lady Edson now. She has a decidedly pinched look about her aristocratic nostrils, does she not?”
Isabella could not prevent the gasp of astonishment that escaped her lips. She turned her head up sharply, intent on chastising Damien for his outrages words, when she saw the teasing glint in his smoky eyes.
“You are trying to distract me, my lord,” Isabella accused him primly, trying to conceal a smile.
“And I have succeeded, Isabella,” the earl countered triumphantly as he paused in front of the ornately carved wooden pew.
It was an interminably long service. Damien held his tongue. and made no further comments about the assembled worshippers, and Isabella was grateful. Her stomach already felt knotted and she was having difficulty appearing so calmly unaffected sitting next to the earl without a proper chaperone.
Throughout the long service, she felt various eyes straying to the family box they occupied and the persistent edge of self-consciousness remained with her. She suspected Damien shared her feelings, although his steady, regal continence never once suggested any discomfort.
As the final hymn began, the earl leaned toward Isabella. Pitching his voice so low that only she could hear, he whispered, “The service will be ending shortly. I will have Jenkins ride my horse back to The Grange so I can accompany you in the carriage. Shall we bolt for the coach, or stay and make inane conversation with the locals?”
Isabella was pleased he asked her opinion. “While I certainly don’t feel the need to linger, it would be bad form to rush away. A few moments exchanging social pleasantries with the congregation would not be amiss.”
Damien nodded in agreement, his admiration for her courage growing. He had slept restlessly last night, worrying over her reception at the church this morning, yet she proved far more adept than he had imagined.
The earl and Isabella lingered in the churchyard for several minutes, but no one approached them. It was probably idiotic to care so much, but the longer they waited the more Isabella regretted suggesting they stay.
“There doesn’t appear to be one lone brave soul amongst the entire village,” Damien remarked softly, bending close to whisper in Isabella’s ear. “Even the vicar has deserted us.”
“Perhaps we should leave,” Isabella replied with a taut smile.
She cast a bold eye toward a cluster of people and saw their closed, curious expressions. Her heart started hammering. They are all cowards, Isabella concluded angrily. And fools. Nothing more than a bunch of sheep, believing all those horrid, viscious lies, acting with unwarranted sanctimony. They were truly beneath his notice, absolutely unworthy of the earl’s consideration.
“We should leave,” Isabella repeated.
“We cannot leave now,” Damien insisted. “I believe I know how I can change the tide of my social disregard, and I’m curious enough about the outcome to test my theory. As you may already know, I never like to leave my curiosity unsatisfied. Besides, I’ve decided I can no longer tolerate having my neighbors view me as something they must avoid at all costs. Like the plague.” The earl casually adjusted the cuff of his jacket, then offered her his arm. “I’ve learned it is always best to confront unpleasantness directly. Come along, Isabella.”
Arm in arm, they walked with great purpose through the milling throngs of people. The crowd easily parted before them. After several steps, Isabella realized the earl’s destination. They continued walking at a leisurely pace until they were positioned directly in front of Lady Edson. The crowd noticeably hushed in order to overhear the exchange.
“Good morning, Lady Edson.”
Damien’s voice nearly startled Isabella with its loudness and firmness.
The earl’s greeting drew a blank stare from the rigidly stiff Lady Edson. She refused to speak, yet refused to look away. So they stared each other down. Two strong-willed adversaries, each determined to best the other. Isabella felt a trickle of perspiration run down her back, but she cautioned herself to remain perfectly still.
