“Ah, I see,” Leo replied to the Marquess, exchanging a brief, knowing glance with Isabella. “Well, then, good luck to you, Lord Falchester.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Falchester said with a bow, his smile faintly teasing. “Though a mere glance from Lady Isabella shall suffice as motivation.”
He dipped into a final, elegant bow before turning away.
Rolling her eyes, Isabella caught the tail end of Lady Kendrick’s announcement:
“Regrettably, due to pressing duties, the Duke of Everthorne will not be joining us. However, he has requested that we all enjoy ourselves to the fullest.”
A murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd, but the Dowager’s tone allowed no protest.
“Without further delay, let the games commence.” She inclined her head, signaling the start of the matches.
And so, they did. Lords of every rank squared off, their exertion marked by strained grunts and labored breathing, just as loud as the crowd’s cheers urged them onward. Steel clashed against steel with light twangs that carried through the air.
Isabella watched with rapt attention, captivated by the precise movements and clever tricks of the players. How she longed,even for a fleeting instant, to try her hand at fencing, but she knew the idea was hopeless. The gentlemen of the ton would sooner surrender their very souls than permit their wives to wield a foil without scandalizing half of London.
As the game continued, gentlemen kept flocking to Isabella, each offering extravagant promises of honor should they win. They became so many that the ladies around her, desperate for respectable matches, began shooting her with sharp, resentful glances.
The attention soon became unbearable, and she finally excused herself from Beatrice and Leo, cradling a flute of champagne as a small shield against the mounting tension.
She had almost made it to the edge of the ballroom when a lady, clearly intent on mischief, collided deliberately with her.
The impact sent a splash of champagne across the woman’s gown.
Isabella froze, mortified, while the crowd nearby stifled surprised gasps.
“Lady Isabella! What is the meaning of this?” shrieked a voice, sharp enough to turn heads across the ballroom.
Isabella’s eyes immediately landed on Lady Rebecca, a lady two years her junior.
“I—I do apologize,” Isabella said smoothly, raising her hands slightly in a pacifying gesture. “It was an accident. I did not mean to spill my drink.”
Lady Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “An accident, you say? Do you think I would believe that when you looked me straight in the eye as you walked into me, Lady Isabella? How could you do such a cruel thing?”
Before Isabella could reply, another lady stepped forward, leaning in. “I saw it all, Lady Rebecca. She did it on purpose!”
Isabella’s brow lifted. “I assure you, I did no such thing. I merely stepped forward and,” she gestured subtly, “you walked into me. The drink spilled upon of contact.”
The woman’s voice sharpened, venom dripping from each word. “You parade about with a fortune on your arm, refusing every respectable match simply for the thrill of attention, and now, you ruin a lady’s dress because she has been favored more than you. How shameful!”
Isabella’s lips curved slightly, but her voice remained calm. She was not one to be bullied. “I understand your frustration, but the facts remain as I have stated. I did not do this deliberately.”
From the edge of her vision, she saw Beatrice and Leo making their way toward her. She parted her lips to respond further, ready to defend herself, when a firm, measured voice stopped her.
“It is all right, ladies,” said Lady Kendrick, gliding toward them, her tone gentle but unyielding. “A lady should never raise her voice in public, no matter how provoked she may feel.” She cast a glance at the ladies who were making a scene.
“I agree, Lady Kendrick,” Isabella added, her voice steady but firm, “however, these two ladies must admit their scheme. This was a timed display to paint me in a less-than-respectable light.”
The two ladies scoffed in shock, clearly mortified by having been caught.
“Had there been anything respectable about you, perhaps this would not have happened,” Lady Rebecca sneered. “You should apologize for scheming so wickedly against me!”
“That is quite enough,” Lady Kendrick said sharply, her tone carrying through the hall. She cleared her throat, softening only slightly. “A lady of your standing should never be dragged into such theatrics, Lady Isabella. Remember, composure is the finest armor in situations such as these.”
“Theatrics?” Lady Rebecca scoffed. “Lady Isabella was seen walking into?—”
“Thank you, Lady Rebecca. I shall have one of my staff amend your dress immediately,” Lady Kendrick cut her off, gesturing to a footman, who disappeared into the house.
