“I suspect he’ll be asking for my hand within the week.” Isabelle glanced around to make sure that he wasn’t coming back over. “I intend to accept if he proposes.”
“It’s your life, child, you needn’t marry the first man who offers.”
Isabelle’s tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “And then your family will suffer. Lady Victoria is too dear to me to allow that.”
Lady Victoria came rushing over as if she was drawn by her name. “Oh, Mama, Isabelle, you wouldn’t believe the two young lords I just got the pleasure of dancing with!”
The dowager duchess shot Isabelle a look and Isabelle shook her head. Lady Victoria was happy and that was all that mattered.
“Lord Foxworth might just be the man of my dreams! Lord Stanford is always lovely, but you know that he is Felix’s friend. Lord Foxworth on the other hand is so kind and his brown eyes are warm and inviting.”
“You should go back out there and dance with him,” Isabelle said, giving her a small smile.
Lady Victoria’s brow pulled together. “Are you well?”
“Perfectly fine. I’m just waiting for Lord Milton to return.”
“Oh.” Lady Victoria’s nose wrinkled. She looked over her shoulder as a young man with brown eyes approached. “I’m going to dance with Lord Foxworth again.”
“Have fun, dear,” the dowager duchess said.
Lady Victoria took off and Isabelle’s mind was decided.
If Lord Milton asked for her hand, she would give it.
“He’s coming,” the dowager duchess hissed.
Isabelle fell back to the chaise, arranging herself in the same position Lord Milton left her in.
“The carriage is on its way.”
Perfect. I can finally go home.
And in the morning, she would figure out how she was going to survive her impending marriage.
Twenty
Isabelle fanned her cheeks as she made her way to the kitchens, grateful to be back at Windham House. Windham would be with Stanford for the rest of the night and Isabelle had little desire to dance with another man for the remainder of that evening.
Instead, the food in the kitchens was calling her name.
She walked through the halls, doing her best to calm her pounding pulse. As she pushed open the door to the kitchens she was happy to see that she was alone.
After three dances with the duke, a few moments to herself were exactly what she needed.
Though the sandwiches looked delectable, it was the scones, coated in a sugary glaze, that made her mouth water. She retrieved a small plate from the stack at the end of the counter and selected two of the delicate scones.
After choosing a fresh, plump peach from the towering bowl of fruit, she made her way out of the kitchens. There had to be a peaceful nook somewhere to eat her food.
Her quest to find a quiet place to rest were quickly dashed as she heard the soft sounds of a pianoforte being played. It was not coming from the ballroom; it was deeper in the bowels of the house. The melody was the most haunting piece she had ever heard.
It settled deep within her soul and drew her down the hall and into the drawing room.
Windham sat before the pianoforte, his head swaying gently as he caressed its ivory keys and lovingly drew its soothing notes into the air like gossamer threads.
A robust fire roared in the hearth and a single candle was perched on a holder that rose high above the pianoforte. No other light illuminated the room.
Windham did not hear her enter. He was lost in the music, his hair disheveled and his head bent over the keys in deep concentration. His jacket had been tossed into the corner of a chair. His sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled up to his muscled forearms.
