Lord Falchester only leaned closer. “Tell me, Your Grace, does your husband know how very easily you attract danger?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Ibeg your pardon?”
Isabella craned her neck as though she’d been insulted. Well, it felt like an insult, and she could hardly believe her ears or even the situation.
“Come now, Your Grace. No need for such sharpness. I merely care for you. You know, you seemed rather… disturbed earlier during the performance.”
“I am quite capable of tending to myself,” she replied, taking another step backward and away from him. “I do not require your observations, nor your concern.”
“Concern?” His chuckle was low, mocking. “No, no. I am far beyond concern where you are involved, Your Grace.”
Isabella frowned. “And what precisely is that supposed to mean?”
Lord Falchester lifted a brow, leaning in as though sharing a secret. “It means, Your Grace, that some of us are not blind. Some of us understand what marrying a cold, hard man must feel like. And perhaps, just perhaps, you regret your decision.”
Heat flared at Isabella’s cheeks, not from embarrassment but from anger. She didn’t even know what possessed her to entertain this man for as long as she had.
“How dare you presume to speak of my marriage, or my husband, in such a manner?”
“Oh, I dare quite easily,” he murmured, stepping again into her space. “You see, I have known you longer than he has. And I know the kind of woman you were before he claimed you. Now look at you, defending him and that ridiculous club as though it makes you important.”
Isabella’s jaw clenched. Had the matter not been a serious one, she would’ve laughed. This man claimed her knew her, yet he failed to know that the first thing about her was that she would defend all that was dear to her.
“Lord Falchester, your words reek of bitterness. For reasons I cannot fathom, you seem intent on provoking me, but I fail to see what enmity you harbor. I have never wronged you.”
“Oh no?” His eyes flashed with something dark. “A woman like you should have been grateful to me when I expressed interest. Instead, you tossed me aside, married a duke, and now fancy yourself superior.”
“I have never fancied myself above anyone,” she snapped. “Least of all you.”
“Well, that much is evident,” he drawled. “Given the spectacle your little club just made of itself.”
“Enough,” Isabella said, lifting her chin. “I have had enough of your attempts to insult me.” Her voice steadied. “Clearly, Lord Falchester, you are shallow-minded, and you choose to remain that way. Now, if you will excuse me?—”
She stepped forward, but he moved swiftly, blocking her path again.
“Out of my way.”
He smiled. “No.”
Isabella’s breath hitched.
She sidestepped, but he matched her movement. Then, in a sudden motion, he reached out and seized her wrist, wrapping it in a strong grip.
The shock of his grip jolted up her arm, and Isabella pulled sharply, but he held fast, stronger this time.
“Release me,” she hissed.
“No,” he whispered. “Not until I have said what I?—”
She yelled, furious, “Let me go!”
Falchester chuckled darkly, wrenching her closer. Isabella stumbled, nearly colliding with him, but she held herself.
“Unhand me!” she spat.
His breath fanned her ear as he leaned closer still. “You married a man with a reputation darker than night. Do you truly believe you are safe with?—”
