Instead, when she and Lord Milton turned again, she saw Windham leaving the room with Stanford, laughing at something the other man said.
Her heart sank deeper in her chest.
“I do think we will have to practice your dancing before we get married. I won’t have you making a fool of me at our wedding.”
Isabelle’s cheeks hurt from forcing another smile. “I’ve been told more than once that I’m not the best at dancing, though I have had some improvement since coming to England. The dowager duchess is an incredible teacher.”
“Not incredible enough, apparently,” he said as Isabelle missed done of the steps and nearly went stumbling to the side.
It was by some miracle that she kept dancing. She didn’t know what propelled her to keep moving, but she did it. She had to.
The Windham duchy depended on her.
Lady Victoria depended on her.
And yet, she was left with nobody to depend on.
Lord Milton let go of her as the song finished. She raised her hands, clapping along with the others as the musicians began another song.
He sighed and took her by the hands, lowering them. “If we are wed, you’ll be a lady. You don’t lower yourself to the standards of the lesser class.”
Isabelle’s smile fell. “I will applaud those who do what I cannot.”
“You cannot play an instrument?”
She stiffened, standing taller before she remembered who he expected her to be. The demure little field mouse. The woman who would submit to him and any of his whims.
That was the woman she needed to be, which gave her the best idea she had to date.
With a gasping breath, she started fanning herself. “Do you find it warm in here, Lord Milton? Perhaps it would be best if we were to rest for a moment.”
His face softened, but there was a lingering annoyance to his eyes as he pressed one hand to the small of her back, guiding her through the throngs of people. “We’ll find you somewhere to rest.”
Isabelle had never faked a fainting spell before. It was a rather British idea. One that she wasn’t fond of, but if it got her out of this horrid conversation and back to Windham House, she would have a fainting spell with the best of them.
Lord Milton led the way to an unoccupied chase and ushered her down onto it. She draped herself over it, still fanning her forehead as if she was overwhelmed by the festivities.
For her grand finale, she gave a deep sigh and let her eyelids flutter shut, her body going limp.
Lord Milton muttered something under his breath that Isabelle didn’t quite catch.
“What’s happened?” the dowager duchess asked, worry in her voice.
Please don’t tell him I’m faking. Please don’t tell him I’m faking the spell.
“Her delicate nature couldn’t possibly handle the excitement of the ball.” Lord Milton had disapproval clear in his tone as he spoke.
The dowager duchess made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. “Be so kind as to fetch a carriage. I’ll send her home, and she’ll recover in the comforts of her own room.”
Thank you, Dowager Duchess.
“Of course,” Lord Milton grumbled, his footsteps echoing until they faded away.
“You can stop faking your ailment now, Miss Alden. He’s gone.”
Isabelle let out a sigh of relief and sat up. “I couldn’t bear anymore of his thoughts about what a marriage should be.”
The dowager duchess’ face softened. “Go home and get some rest. I will create a diversion for you. And I would suggest that you give some thought to whether you wish to marry Lord Milton or not.”
