A spark of her usual brightness appeared instantly and lit up her face. “Truly?” she asked, allowing a hint of a smile to touch her lips.
He nodded reluctantly.
“Then there would never be any such display again,” she declared, nodding vigorously.
Cassian huffed out a soft breath.
“I shall take your word for it.” He shook his head and turned, leaving his grandmother’s chambers as he set off in the opposite direction.
Why must all of these women vex me so?
“I still cannot believe this,” Isabella muttered over the open letter in her hand.
It had come from Everthorne townhouse, from Lady Kendrick specifically, the day before, stating that the Laurel club would resume activities soon, and she could not wait for their next meeting.
Isabella had read the letter twice when she received it and three times this morning, scarcely believing how easily the matter hadbeen settled. The duke had been furious, and yet Lady Kendrick had somehow managed to protect the club.
As she rode with her maid toward the location indicated in the letter, where the next Laurel meeting would take place, Isabella found herself eager to meet with the Laurels. She’d been so focused on her encounter with the duke that she had barely considered the forced closure of the club.
She sighed.
It would have been awful for them all if things had come to an end before the club truly had a chance to find its footing.
When her carriage arrived before the iron gates of the public garden, Isabella stepped down onto the gravel path, her shoes crunching faintly beneath her.
The morning sun filtered weakly through the bare branches above, casting long, delicate shadows across the trimmed hedges and frosted lawns. The air held a crispness that felt both invigorating and sharp, like the world had been washed clean overnight.
A new beginning.
The crispness in the air brought renewed hope to her thoughts.
She spotted Lady Kendrick instantly from across the barren landscape.
“Lady Isabella, my dear!” the older woman exclaimed as she approached, her arms already open for an embrace. “How I’ve missed you.”
Isabella felt warmth rush through her chest as she accepted the hug, returning it with genuine affection.
“And I you, Lady Kendrick.” She pulled back with a smile, one that faltered at once.
Because standing a few feet behind Lady Kendrick, hands clasped behind his back and face unreadable in the pale winter light, was the Duke of Everthorne himself. And he was watching her like a silent storm that threatened to break on the horizon.
The breath stilled in Isabella’s lungs.
No. Not today.
Not when she had vowed with every desperate fiber of her being to avoid him.
What is he doing here?
Lady Kendrick, who must’ve felt Isabella stiffen, turned in mild confusion.
Then, her eyes brightened mischievously. “Ah, yes,” she said with cheer, “my grandson insisted he come along today. Toensure I remain on my best behavior. Apparently, I cannot be trusted not to conjure another troupe of unduly unclothed men.” She stifled a mischievous cackle.
“Marguerite,” the duke warned with a low but not truly threatening hiss.
Lady Kendrick ignored him. “You will forgive him, my dear Isabella; he is simply overzealous in his concern.”
Isabella forced her lips into the shape of a polite smile, even as her pulse thrummed dangerously beneath her skin. She dipped her head toward the duke in greeting. He returned the gesture with the slightest bow, his eyes never leaving her face.
