"I'm hardly a paragon of virtue," he said, his voice rough.
"No." Isobel's smile was gentle. "But you're not awful either, Andrew Pasley. Whether you believe it or not."
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply inclined his head and returned to his breakfast, acutely aware of her eyes on him.
This woman was going to be the death of him.
And he was starting to think he'd die happy.
Joan spotted her first. “Isobel!” she exclaimed, gathering her skirts as she hurried across the hall of the Wharton townhouse.
Joan was visiting Norman and Kitty often at Wharton at Andrew’s direction—an interim solution rather than a comfortable one.
Isobel barely had time to brace before her sister wrapped her arms around her. She laughed softly, holding her just as tightly. “I’ve missed you.”
“You disappeared into married life,” Joan said, half-teasing, half-accusing. “I began to think the title of Duchess swallowed you whole.”
“It tried,” Isobel murmured, smiling. “But I escaped long enough to come see you.”
Joan pulled back, studying her. “You look different.”
“Different how?”
“Happier,” Joan said simply.
Isobel blinked, caught off guard. “Do I?”
Joan shrugged lightly. “A little. Enough for me to notice.”
They walked arm in arm toward the garden doors. Isobel squeezed her sister’s hand. “And you? Has Father given you any peace?”
“As much peace as he is capable of,” Joan said wryly. “But everyone is talking about the Season. I suppose I must consider suitors.”
Isobel stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “Then you won’t do it alone. I’ll help you.”
Joan’s eyes brightened. “Truly?”
“Of course.” Isobel brushed a curl from Joan’s cheek. “We survived that house together. We will survive thetontogether too. And I will make certain you choose someone kind.”
Joan exhaled, relieved. “I knew you wouldn’t forget me.”
“I could never forget you,” Isobel said firmly. “You’re the first person I think of. Always.”
Joan leaned her head on Isobel’s shoulder. “Then I suppose I can face a ballroom or two.”
Isobel smiled. “Good. Because we shall start with one this week.”
Joan grinned nervously. “You will stay with me the whole time?”
“Every moment,” Isobel promised.
The Pembroke garden party was in full bloom. Crocuses and tulips lined the walking paths, their perfume heavy in the crisp afternoon air making everyone feel rejuvenated.
Tables draped in white linen dotted the lawn, laden with refreshments. Ladies in pastel gowns clustered like butterflies, their parasols creating patches of shade.
And everywhere, people were staring.
"They're looking at us," Isobel murmured to Joan as they navigated through the crowd.
