“Miss Alden.” Windham held out his hand.
Isabelle stood taller and gathered her skirts, ignoring the hand presented to her as she stepped out of the carriage. She couldn’t risk another touch. She didn’t wish to feel the flutters deep in her stomach or to remember the way his callouses felt when the scraped against her palm.
Her foot nearly caught on the step, but she steadied herself and kept her head held high. The rain pelted the side of her face, soaking her hair through and sticking long strands to the back of her neck. The icy water seeped through her dress, creating a chill that seemed to sink to her bones as the wind howled around her.
Victoria laughed as Isabelle joined her beneath the arch outside the home. “Is there a problem between you and Felix that I should be aware of?”
“None.” Isabelle smiled and dropped her skirts as Windham joined them. She leaned closer to Victoria. “He once compared me to an old goose and I have yet to decide if I am going to forgive him or not.”
“You should draw out his torture for a little longer. I am certain by the end of our time with Lord Milton, Felix will be begging for your forgiveness, and he shall promise never to call you an old goose again.”
Isabelle bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a laugh as the white door swung open and a man stepped to the side with a low bow. Windham led their way into the house, stopping in the entryway as a young man made his way down a curving staircase.
“Windham, I have not seen you in months!” the man exclaimed, grinning as he reached the bottom step.
Windham stepped forward, clapping the man on the shoulder. “Milton. I would think that you have been in hiding from the mothers and their daughters.”
“Not yet.” Lord Milton looked at Isabelle and Victoria. “And who may I ask have you brought with you?”
“Milton, this is my sister, Lady Victoria and my charge, Miss Isabelle Alden, daughter of the Baron of Elington.”
Those familiar butterflies returned to her stomach at the sound of Windham’s smooth voice saying her name. She had yet to hear it from his lips and now that she had, she didn’t know if she could return to simply being Miss Alden.
As Lord Milton bowed to Victoria, Isabelle tried to force the thoughts from her mind. She knew that it was nothing more than a fleeting notion and one that could easily be put to rest. While Duke Windham had shown her kindness, he remained nothing more than her host and the man who sought to marry her off to the highest bidder. She would be a fool to forget his true intentions, even if in this estate she was safe from his trifling.
Lord Milton turned his gaze to Isabelle, bowing low. “Miss Alden, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said with a smile and a slight bob of her head. “Thank you for opening your home to us, Lord Milton. It is quite beautiful. Did you have it built in the French style?”
He beamed and nodded. “I did. Are you fond of French architecture?”
“Of what little I have seen in paintings, yes.” Isabelle beamed and followed him from the room as the others trailed behind her. “I wish to go to France one day. There is somethingspectacular about the palaces which I think the English have yet to replicate.”
Lord Milton laughed and looked over his shoulder at the duke. “An American? If I had known that you were allowing such a charming woman to spend time at your estate I would have called on you just to hear the accent. It is wonderful.”
Isabelle blushed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the man’s dramatics. “I assure you the accent is nothing special where I live.”
“And yet you are quite rare here.”
“I would think that something so rare would be something someone would desire to keep in a cage.” Isabelle smirked at him as he looked down at her, leading them through the house to a little parlor bathed in sunlight.
Lord Milton chuckled and leaned against the doorframe. “I should think so.”
“And would you cage a rare bird, Lord Milton?”
“Miss Alden!” Windham scolded, stepping forward and placing himself between Lord Milton and Isabelle. She glowered at his back as he clasped his hands together in front of him. “I should apologize for her. It has been a long day of traveling and with our clothing soaked through, I suspect we are all not our best selves.”
“How could I have forgotten?” Lord Milton waved a hand, and several maids stepped forward. “Show Windham and his family to their rooms. Put Miss Alden in the room with the view of the lake. I suspect she will find the French decorations in that room quite charming.”
Isabelle fought a smug smirk as she passed Felix and followed behind one of the maids. It seemed that his friend was not as scandalized by her words as he would have preferred.
The maid led her up the winding staircase and down the hall to the east wing. Isabelle was thrilled that she would be able to watch the sunrise shine through her window in the morning. Barking filled the hall as her puppy, Rose, fell into step beside her.
The maid paused and looked at the dog, her lips pressed silently into a thin line. She pushed open the towering white double doors to reveal a room with a bed larger than any Isabelle had ever seen.
Rose took off with a yip, racing for the bed and jumping on it before settling herself amongst the pillows. Isabelle giggled and rushed into the room, turning before falling backwards onto the bed. The soft down mattress enveloped her like a warm hug as she stared up at its gauzy canopy.
As the maid stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her, Isabelle took in the white wallpaper covered in sage green vines and dusty pink roses. It was far more ornate than how her father had decorated their home. The pale pinks andgreens, paired with the white furniture, complimented the room beautifully.
