I am worth it.
“Your Grace,” Isobel said suddenly, turning to Jason’s mother. “Forgive me, but my mother and I have an uncomfortable—dare I say, indelicate—association with the dowager countess currently making her way to us. I assume she is in your acquaintance. Lady Cranford?”
“Oh,” sighed Lady Northumberland. “Lady Cranford.”
Isobel pressed on. “I beg your pardon for—I... I find myself at a loss for what else I might say. I beg your pardon for our history and I beg your pardon for imposing this moment on you. And your daughters. Whatever it may entail.”
She turned to Georgiana. “Shall we stay, or shall we go, Mama? I leave it up to you.”
“I should go,” said Georgiana quietly. “Salvage your future, Bell. I will perish if I ruin this for you.”
“My future and our past are linked, and I thank God for it,” Isobel replied. “No one will perish. Come what may. But hurry and decide. Stay or go?”
“Stay,” whispered Georgiana, her voice as soft as a kiss.
Isobel nodded. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin and stared at the rapidly approaching dowager countess.
By the time Lady Cranford reached them, Isobel had schooled her face into aloof serenity. At her side, she gripped her mother’s hand as if she meant to snap it off. She held her breath.
The dowager countess was prettier than Isobel had first thought. She was shockingly pale, but her features were delicate and her lashes long. She pinned Georgiana with a furious glare. She had the determined look of someone chopping off the head of a hysterical goose.
“Your Grace,” Lady Cranford began, speaking to the dowager duchess in tight, clipped tones. “I must beg a word with you in private. Immediately. The matter is very urgent.”
“Hello, Rosemary,” drawled Lady Northumberland. “How purposeful you look. Will you not take some champagne? ’Tis a ball; it’s meant to be a respite from‘urgent matters.’ Surely you don’t mean to pull me away from my guests.”
“Your guests,” ground out Lady Cranford, “are precisely the urgent matter I wish to discuss. There are... personalities present of whom you’ve not been fully apprised. You would not wishdishonorto fall upon this ball or this house or your daught—”
“Careful, Rosemary,” cut in the dowager duchess, her voice calm but final, “before you invoke the names of my daughters—or any of my guests, for that matter. Not only do I eschew ‘urgent matters’ at my parties, I also forbidslander. I’ll not stand for name-calling. Unless someone is brandishing a saber, I’ve no interest.”
“But, Your Grace,” said Lady Cranford stonily, her eyes lancing Georgiana with a hateful look. “This wom—”
Before Lady Cranford could finish, the dowager duchess swept a collective arm around Isobel and Georgiana and pivoted, effectively turning her back.
The cut direct.
Isobel had heard of this phenomenon but never witnessed it. Certainly if ever she imagined it happening, she saw herself on the receiving end rather than the beneficiary.
“Ah, Count St. Claire, there you are,” called Lady Northumberland to a passing man. “Someone told me you’ve written a book. What is your passion? The history of...”
“The cistern, Your Grace,” provided the man, clearly delighted.
“Yes,” enthused the dowager. “I am fascinated. Will you tell us more?”
I love this family.It was Isobel’s next thought.
I love this family, and I love the duke, and I have as much right to be a part of their lives as anyone else.
I fought pirates, for God’s sake.
I speak seven languages.
I’ve traveled the world.
They see me.
I deserve to be seen and they see me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
