Isabella ignored them. Her spine remained straight, chin lifted as she encouraged the Laurels to stand tall beside her. “We practiced well,” she murmured. “Remember that.”
Their first demonstration, a fencing display, began smoothly. Their second, a dramatic reading and a subtle debate followed,though the few snickers persisted and even grew louder in the crowd.
And then, when the demonstration concluded, the murmuring became sharper and meaner.
“Ridiculous.”
“Unbecoming.”
“Not ladylike at all.”
“Reading and arguing? How could one marry either of them?”
Stung but composed, Isabella moved to gather the Laurels, only to find Lady Emily trembling, eyes wide, lips quivering. A moment later, the girl bolted through the nearest terrace doors and into the rose garden beyond.
Isabella excused herself and followed at once.
The winter roses were pale under the moonlight, their frozen petals gleaming like small pink crystals, and Lady Emily stood near a marble bench, cornered between two hedges, but she was not alone.
Lord Falchester.
Isabella’s breath caught. She slowed her steps, moving silently across the path.
“Ruined already,” Falchester murmured to Lady Emily. “The ton will say so after tonight. Fencing with foils like some circus performer. You have handed them your reputation.”
Lady Emily shook. “I-I did nothing wrong,”
“No?” Falchester lifted a brow. “They laughed. They always will. A lady who mocks propriety might as well live up to it.”
Lady Emily’s eyes flooded with tears.
Isabella stood, alarmed. What relationship did Lord Falchester have with Lady Emily that he could not only speak to her but speak to her in that manner?
“Enough,” Isabella said, stepping forward at last. “Lord Falchester, remove yourself.”
Lady Emily startled, her relief palpable as she slipped away, running back toward the ballroom.
Isabella moved to follow, but Falchester stepped directly into her path.
“Your Grace,” he said softly, his tone almost pleasant, but his smile all wrong, “how very fortunate to encounter you.”
“I will not speak with you,” she replied coolly. “Move.”
He chuckled but didn’t move. Cold dread prickled down her spine.
“Do you know,” he murmured, leaning closer, “I was convinced you would make a fine wife. Graceful, well-bred,” His grip tightened the smallest fraction. “But you prance with foils in front of the ton, encouraging young ladies to embarrass themselves.”
“Release me,” Isabella demanded.
Falchester ignored her. “You think you have escaped their judgment because you married well? A duchess can be ruined, too. Quite thoroughly.”
Isabella’s throat tightened; still, she met his eyes steadily. “If you believe threatening me will silence the Laurels, you are mistaken.”
“Tsk.” His smile widened, chilling. “You mistake my meaning. I am simply offering you wisdom. A tarnished reputation spreads quickly.” His gaze dropped slowly, pointedly, down the length of her body, hungrily.
Isabella jerked backward, but he closed the distance.
“Let me go,” she said again, her voice lower, sharper.
