This time felt different. Heavier. More deliberate. And far more dangerous.
Joan's eyes lit up as she examined a bolt of expensive French silk. "Oh, Isobel, look at this one! And these pearl buttons. They're exquisite! We should get everything in the finest materials since the Duke is being so generous."
"Joan," Isobel said gently, steering her sister away from the most expensive options. "We needn't be extravagant. A simple, elegant dress will be just as lovely."
"But he's a duke! Surely he can afford it."
"That's not the point." Isobel kept her voice low. "Just because he can afford it doesn't mean we should take advantage of his generosity. We'll choose quality, but we'll be reasonable about it."
Joan pouted slightly but nodded. "You're right. I just got carried away. Everything here is so beautiful."
"I know," Isobel smiled. "But you'll look beautiful in anything. Now, shall we see what Miss Hopkins has for you to try on?"
Without an argument, Joan followed Miss Hopkins through the curtain at the back, appearing a few moments later in a dress of blush that brought out the color in her cheeks which appeared whenever she was excited.
Joan beamed and stepped onto the dais, turning this way and that while her measurements were taken. “What do you think the Duke is going to say to you as part of his vows?”
“I think he’s simply going to recite the words he’s told to say.” Isobel perched on one of the chairs in front of the dais. She turned her attention to Miss Hopkins. “Is my dress going to be ready in time?”
“It will. The dress itself is already constructed; it’s simply the finishing details left and the fitting today.” Miss Hopkins smiled and started pinning the loose sections of Joan’s dress into place. “Miss Joan has already given me the buttons you wish to have, and I agree with her that you will look stunning if we keep the dress timeless and elegant.”
Isobel nodded, biting the inside of her cheek as butterflies came to life in her stomach. There was going to be another walk down the aisle to another man she wasn’t sure she could be happily married to. And part of her hated how her body betrayed her.
Well she told herself she hated this.
And yet…
The image of Lord Sinclair rose unbidden in her mind: the cold eyes, the polite distance, the way she had already felt invisible before the vows were even spoken. That marriage would have been quiet misery. Dutiful. Empty.
The Duke of Foxdrey was nothing like that.
He unsettled her. He saw her. He provoked her into laughter, into feeling far too much. Even now, the thought of him stirred something sharp and unwelcome in her chest.
Why does he still make me feel like this? I will not let myself want him.
Joan twirled in her dress, holding her arms out to the sides. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything this fine before. It’s magnificent.”
“You’ll be the belle of the ball at the wedding,” Isobel said, smiling and shaking her head. If nothing else, at least getting married would bring nothing but good for Joan’s marriage prospects.
With the Duke of Foxdrey in their family, Joan would be able to marry a man of her choosing. She was already beautiful, but the connection to a duke made marriage look all that more attractive. There would be time for Joan to fall in love with a man instead of picking whoever seemed like the best option.
For that, Isobel would owe the Duke, and that fact bothered her nearly as much as his lips on the side of her neck.
Joan put her hands on her hips, her gaze locking on Isobel. “You’ve been distant all day. I swear, you’ve been spending moretime in your head over the last two days since you accepted the proposal and now, you’re doing it again.”
Isobel winced. “I’m sorry. I have much weighing upon my mind. The wedding is only three days away and I don’t know what I'm going to be walking into. The Duke is a difficult man. Challenging.”
“I didn’t know you knew him so well,” Joan said, her tone teasing as she looked down at the pins in her bodice. “I think it should be let out just a touch where you have this pin, Miss Hopkins. I’m sure there will be delicious food there and I want to enjoy it without feeling like I’ll tear through my seams.”
Chuckling, Isobel shook her head. “I think you might be assuming a little too much about the wedding. I’m sure it’s going to be a simple affair.”
“Simple affair or not, if your future husband doesn’t have a delicious spread, I’m going to be judging him.” Joan smiled broadly as Miss Hopkins offered her a hand to help her down from the pedestal. “Now, I’m going to change and then you’re going to put on your dress, and I get to see what that looks like. We must make sure you’re perfection.”
“I hardly doubt the Duke is going to care if I look like perfection or not.” Isobel stood and smoothed down her dress, waiting until Joan reemerged before putting on her own dress and returning to the dais.
She stood on the platform as Miss Hopkins dragged out the train. It might not have been the longest, but Isobel would have to make sure she didn’t catch it on anything while walking to the altar.
“I knew the pale blue was going to look better on you than the white,” Joan said, touching the fine silk. “It makes those rich tones in your hair look even better. Isobel, you look like an angel.”
