Everything is going according to plan.
A rush of exhilaration moved through her body.
“Now,” the instructor said, “let us show the thrust. Lady Isabella, please extend your arm. Straighten your wrist and make a clean line.”
“It looks almost like dancing,” a lady remarked as the man demonstrated the steps.
Lady Kendrick clapped her hands. “Splendid! Who among you daring ladies wishes to attempt the stance?”
Giggles erupted. A few ladies stepped back. But a handful of bold and curious ladies stepped forward.
“Wooden foils only for now,” Lady Kendrick cautioned as she distributed them with enthusiasm. “Let us begin with bravery rather than talent!”
Laughter filled the ballroom as the selected ladies attempted to mimic the stance.
One slipped slightly on the polished floor, catching herself with a squeak. Another held her foil backward. A third nearly toppled when she tried to step and thrust at the same time.
But it was evident the ladies were enjoying themselves. Isabella felt warmth spread through her chest. This was precisely what she had hoped for.
Union not because of status, but because of curiosity and improvement.
The room swelled with more laughter and determination as the ladies attempted the stance repeatedly, but just as Isabella lifted her foil once more, a voice cut through the ballroom like a blade through silk.
A voice she recognized instantly. A voice that froze every lady mid-laugh, mid-step, and mid-breath.
“Are the ladies still present?”
The ballroom fell silent.
Chapter Seven
“Are the ladies still present?”
Cassian’s deep baritone rolled through the corridor like distant thunder, entirely unaware of the effect it produced on the unsuspecting gathering inside the ballroom.
His butler, Michael, who stood dutifully at his side, bowed his head.
“Yes, Your Grace. They are.”
Had the man possessed a measure of foresight or the imagination of a poet, perhaps then he might have predicted the chaos those two words,Your Grace, would unleash. But neither he nor Cassian anticipated the chain of events already set in motion.
For inside the ballroom, every feminine head had snapped toward the door in utter disbelief. Like a hive of bees responding to the ancient and mysterious call from their queen.
“Your Grace?” a lady’s voice rang out in shock and unmistakable delight.
A wave of whispers erupted, followed by quick rustlings of silk as dozens of young ladies craned their necks to peer into the hall.
Cassian stiffened.
Of all the tortures he had braced himself for this morning, he had not anticipated walking straight into the center of attention like a deer into an open trap. He had thought that they would have been done by the time he had finished in his study.
For one absurd second, he contemplated turning around and escaping into the quiet of his study, but he was the Duke of Everthorne, and this was his own residence. If anyone were to flee, it ought not to be him. Even so, the thought of voluntarily stepping into a ballroom full of curious young women felt like walking into an entirely preventable ambush. If only he had remained in his workshop where he belonged.
“You should join us, Your Grace!” the same eager lady called, boldly stepping forward. “Perhaps you might formally introduce yourself. I am certain most of us have not yet had the liberty of gazing upon you and making your acquaintance.” She batted her lashes almost absurdly.
Cassian shot Michael a murderous look. The butler exhaled quietly, as if already offering his condolences, seeing as there was nothing else he could do.
With resigned irritation tightening his jaw, Cassian inclined his head a fraction and stepped through the threshold. He might as well just be over and done with them.
