Releasing her, he’d finally looked to his wife, whose own eyes had begun to glisten, and said, “Go on—make amends.” Upon which the dam had broken and she’d burst into tears as she’d flung herself into her parents’ arms.
Isabella had joined the exchange of embraces, until everyone—save Anthony, who hadn’t left the safety of his corner for a second—had looked flushed and puffy. They’d been smiling, though, grinning even, as they’d stepped away from each other with bashful self-awareness. Falling silent as they’d noticed Anthony gaping at them as if they’d all belonged in Bedlam, they’d watched as he’d slowly raised a bottle of brandy and said, “Care for a drink, anyone?” Upon which they’d all erupted in a fit of laughter.
Yes, it had been a memorable afternoon, one which had ended with Anthony relating his plans for introducing the Chilcotts into Society. “Since it was initially put about town that Lady Margaret was kidnapped and nobody knows that she really absconded with Mr. Chilcott, we shall simply elaborate upon the tale, explaining how Mr. Chilcott saved her and took her to his home for recovery. The two fell irrevocably in love and, fearing her parents’ disapproval, since Mr. Chilcott was untitled and with no wealth to speak of, she decided to stay away all of these years.”
“Until now,” Isabella said, liking the simplicity of it and deciding that it was bound to be accepted as the truth.
“Until now,” Anthony echoed with a nod of confirmation. “On their way to Kingsborough Hall for the ball,” he continued, “the Deerfords noticed a woman who reminded them of their daughter. Having never abandoned hope of finding her, they approached her, discovering to their joy and elation that it was indeed the long-lost Lady Margaret. Upon being introduced to her husband and children, they showed not the least bit of disapproval toward Mr. Chilcott but thanked him profusely for saving their daughter from her attackers and have since accepted him as a valuable member of the Deerford family.”
“I have to say that it does sound plausible,” Mr. Chilcott said.
“In addition,” Anthony pressed, addressing Isabella’s parents, “I shall see to it that you are moved either to one of the apartments at Kingsborough Hall or to a larger town house—whichever you prefer. Once we are through, nobody will dare so much as frown in your direction.” With a smile he turned to Isabella. “Now then, I believe your gowns will be ready tomorrow. I’ll ask Sands, my valet, to pick them up and have them delivered here so you can start packing.” Gathering her up in his arms, he then kissed her quite thoroughly upon her lips, not the least bit concerned that they had an audience.
“Are you almost ready, dear?” Isabella’s mother called from the other side of her closed bedroom door. “The duke is here to escort us, and judging from the way he keeps fidgeting with his cravat, I suspect he’s most anxious to see you.”
They’d arrived in London the previous day, upon which Isabella and her parents had been taken directly to a town house that Anthony had rented for them. After seeing them in, he’d said his good-byes and left for his own home. Isabella hadn’t seen him since and had grown anxious for his company as well.
“I’ll be right there, Mama,” she called back, unable to keep from laughing as she glanced at herself one last time in the mirror, finally seeing herself the way Anthony probably did—not plump, as she’d always imagined, but sensual in every conceivable way as the ice-blue silk slithered across her every curve, hugging her breasts and hips. There was no doubt in her mind that her fiancé would find it most appealing.
Satisfied, she turned her back on her reflection, opened the door to her room and stepped out onto the landing. With a deep breath, she began her descent, and when she finally entered the parlor, the hum of voices that had busily been discussing some topic or other faded into silence as everyone stopped to stare. “You look incredible,” Anthony finally managed, coming toward her as if in a daze. “I ... heavens!”
“Does that mean you’ll dance with me this evening, Your Grace?” she asked, batting her eyelids.
“It means I’ll throttle any other man who tries to,” he murmured as he raised her gloved hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon her knuckles.
They arrived at Darwich House a half hour later to begin their progress along the receiving line. “I say, Kingsborough! Who is this lovely lady on your arm?” Lady Darwich asked as Anthony bowed before her and Isabella curtsied.
“My fiancée, Miss Chilcott,” he told her cheerfully.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure,” their hostess said with a frown, raising her quizzing glass as she gave Isabella a head to toe inspection. She nudged Lord Darwich, who was standing at her side, quite soundly in the ribs.
The earl bowed toward Isabella before returning his attention to Anthony. “Your father would be proud of you, and ...” Lord Darwich’s words trailed off as his eyes went beyond where Anthony stood. “Dear me, you look rather familiar. In fact—”
“You remember our daughter, Lady Margaret; Lady Margaret Chilcott now by marriage,” Lord Deerford said, stepping closer as he brought the rest of the family with him. “And Miss Chilcott here is our granddaughter.”
Lady Darwich looked momentarily as if her eyes might burst from their sockets, but she recovered and, with a smile, eagerly waved them toward the ballroom. “What a pleasure it is to see you again after so many years, Lady Margaret. Oh, we’re so happy that you were able to join us this evening, so very, very happy.”
Anthony didn’t doubt that for a second, for the Darwich Ball was about to become the most talked-about event since the wedding between Cleopatra and Caesar.
“The Duke of Kingsborough and his fiancée, Miss Chilcott,” a footman announced in a booming tone, barely drawing a breath before adding, “accompanied by the Marchioness and Marquess of Deerford, along with their daughter, Lady Margaret Chilcott, and her husband, Mr. Chilcott.”
The last part was almost swallowed up by the buzz of voices that rose through the air. For the first time since assuming his title, Anthony was happy to be a duke, for as he led Isabella down the steps to the dance floor, the crowds parted as if he’d been Moses.
Nobody quirked an eyebrow at the woman on his arm as he pulled Isabella into his embrace with every indication that he desired a waltz. He gave a curt nod toward the orchestra, the whispers ceased and a hush descended upon them while the first strains of music rose and fell to a steady beat.
“Oh my,” Isabella muttered, looking around as Anthony swept her across the dance floor in a wide circle. “It appears you’ve shocked them into silence.”
Anthony smiled down at her. “Quite impressive, don’t you think?”
With a grin, she nodded, allowing him to take the lead as he twirled her about, the remnants of the rogue in him holding her scandalously close. The music faded far too soon for his liking, but as they drifted to a stop before his mother, he remembered that there was still one very important matter to attend to.
Everything that was about to happen was for show—an act that would hopefully make it clear to thetonthat Isabella and her parents were under his and the Deerfords’ protection, and that nobody was to say a word against any of them if they valued their own heads.
“Darling,” his mother said, her voice higher than usual so as not to be missed by anyone. Nobody moved as she went toward him—not even the rustle of a single skirt could be heard. Smiling, she turned her attention to Isabella, and taking her hands in each of her own she said, “What a pleasure it is to see you again, my dear.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Isabella said, curtsying as well as she was able to with her future mother-in-law holding on to her.
Louise and Huntley approached them next, followed by Winston and Sarah, the Deerfords, Isabella’s parents, and even Casper, who looked ever the gallant rake in his evening black.
