“I would like to leave more of my hair down this evening,” Isabelle said once she and Victoria were dressed and sitting at the vanity to have their hair done.
“People are going to whisper about it,” Maggie said, grinning in the mirror at her.
Isabelle glanced at her, the corner of her mouth twitching. “They are going to talk about me either way. At the very least I should do something to earn their conversation.”
Laughing, Victoria leaned forward, pinching her cheeks in the mirror to bring some color to them. “I agree with you. I want my hair down as well.”
“We shall be the talk of theton.” Isabelle dissolved into giggles as Maggie worked on adding more curls to her hair.
By the time Maggie had finalized her hairstyle, Isabelle was second guessing her decision, but there was no longer enough time to change her mind. Not when the Dowager Duchess was waiting for them and eager to depart.
The Dowager Duchess led their way out of the house and down the street to another that towered nearly as high as Windham’s. Carriages rolled to the steps and guests disembarked, making their way inside.
Isabelle reached down and gripped Victoria’s hand, squeezing it as they followed the dowager into the house. She led the way to a parlor off what Isabelle assumed was the ballroom.
After taking a deep breath, Isabelle entered the room with her head held high, smiling politely at some of the younger ladies who offered her greetings. Miss Fitzroy suddenly stopped in front of her and arched an eyebrow. “You realize that this is a formal event, do you not?”
Isabelle let go of Victoria’s hand and nodded. “Of course.”
“It does not look like you do.” Miss Fitzroy focused on her loose hair while two other girls came to flank her. “You should leave.”
“Do you really think that you are going to be able to find a husband looking like that?” one of the other girls asked, her tone as sharp as her upturned nose.
The third girl laughed and shook her head. “It is going to be such fun watching the gentlemen snub you. If your horrid accent is not enough to drive them away, then what you are wearing certainly will be.”
A lump rose in Isabelle’s throat.
Before she could say anything in response, the Dowager Duchess swept in like an avenging angel with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. It was the kind of look that would even send soldiers running for the hills.
“Shame on you,” the Dowager Duchess admonished in a hiss, her voice low and steady as venom spewed from her words. “You are wretched girls. Isabelle has more class than the three of you put together, and far more grace if this is the abuse she has endured at your hands.”
Miss Fitzroy refused to lower her gaze in shame, but her two friends backed away quickly, muttering apologies.
The Dowager Duchess drew herself even taller. “I shall be speaking to your mothers about this.”
Isabelle’s jaw dropped and the lump in her throat dissolved. Though it wasn’t the first time the Dowager Duchess had come to her defense, it still shocked her.
Miss Fitzroy and her friends spun and disappeared to the other side of the room as the doors to the ballroom opened. The young women filtered through, but the Dowager Duchess put her hand on Isabelle’s shoulder.
“Stay back a moment, Isabelle,” she said with a warmth to her voice. “If these young ladies are so sure that you are less than everyone else, then we are going to make a lasting impression.”
Victoria smiled and left the two of them alone, following the other young women out of the room.
Isabelle clasped her hands in front of her, turning to the dowager. “Thank you for intervening.”
“Young women are just as horrible now as they were in my day.” The dowager frowned as the last of the women filtered out of the room. “Now is your chance. Walk in there with your head held high and do not let any of them make you believe that you are less than them.”
Isabelle nodded, butterflies erupting in her stomach as she dropped her hands to her side, striding to the doors, gathering all the confidence that she could muster. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she was determined to get through the ball without making a fool of herself.
And as she walked into the ballroom and all eyes turned to her, she had never felt more confident.
Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity. People watched her but it was as if none of them had been prepared to approach her. Perhaps they thought that she was beneath them and they would be wasting their time in doing so.
Lord Townshend stepped forward and her heart sank.
He bowed slightly before standing straight and clasping his hands behind his back. “I was wondering if I might have the first dance.”
She tried to find the words to tell him no. He was one of the last people on earth she would dance with. After the scene he made while they were promenading, it would be best to send him away.
