Without him.
She glanced at her chemise draped on the nearest piece of furniture. Grabbing the chair’s leg, she yanked it flush against the tub so she could rub the lace-edged fabric, her palm immediately settling upon her sheath hidden underneath, her dagger always ready. The onehehad given her—the one Pena had taught her to use. As she stroked the hilt, the knots in her back loosened a smidge. She could do this—rally and fight—defend what was rightfully hers.
With a partner. A loyal, dutiful, and fine—handsome, even—partner. She set down the dagger once more and leaned back in the tub, her fingers now traveling right between her breasts as another memory rose in her mind. One involving the other night when she’d met Aaron in the garden and, for a moment, believed that he would take her in his arms and . . .
Closing her eyes, she moaned a little as her fingers dipped lower. Even if the fantasy was ridiculous. Aaron, while handsome, was not husband material and was a good, if not rather prudish, person, who would most certainly never consider touching her like this—not that she even wanted him to outside of her imagination. However, if she could find, among the suitable men, someone who would—
A knock on the door interrupted her cycling thoughts. Splashing a bit, she dipped lower in the water. “You may enter.”
Her maid Judith stuck her head through the door. “Your grandmother is looking for you, Miss Isabelle. And Miss Adler has arrived.”
Isabelle huffed. So much for her soak. “Tell my grandmother I’m just about to finish and will attend to whatever business she has shortly. And tell Rebecca that we will talk after—”
Judith darted forward as the door swung open behind her, the knob banging against the wall, rattling the large portrait of Isabelle and her grandmother that hung above the granite-covered fireplace. A blur of elegantly set gray curls stormed into the room, followed by a tall woman with neatly tied-back auburn hair.
“We have a problem,” her grandmother stated.
“You have a problem,” Rebecca clarified before sitting on the chair nearest to Isabelle’s remaining morning refreshments. “I’m just here for an early run at the food.” As if to demonstrate her point, she plucked a bun between her fingers and took a large bite.
Judith coughed into her hand. “I’ll excuse myself. Ring if you need assistance.”
“Did neither of you hear the part about me bathing?” Isabelle indicated the water and sudsy bubbles around her, her cheeks pinking from embarrassment. Normally, she didn’t mind their lack of boundaries—after all, hers were rather limited as well—but she had just been, well . . . And while Rebecca’s profession and knowledge of anatomy made her friend well suited for certain types of discussions, this was not one she wanted to have when she was nude.
“This is more urgent, given how soon this festival is going to begin.” Her grandmother nudged the copper edge of the tub with her satin-slippered foot. “Unless you’d like to call it off?” There was an inquisitive note to her words, as if her grandmother expected an answer different from before.
Even Rebecca looked up from her eating to stare at her curiously.
Traitor.
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at her friend, Isabelle rose and stepped out, suds sloshing onto the thick rug. “You know that’s not possible,” she replied over her shoulder as she wrapped herself in a thick cloth. “The Berabs’ ultimatum is not going away, and matchmakers take time. Besides, even if wehadtime, canceling the festivals would be a social disaster. The community would be understanding, but the gentiles would not. The vote on the bill is coming.”
“If the bill fails over a canceled festival, it would never have succeeded in the first place.” Her grandmother wrung her lace handkerchief. “I just wonder if you might want to slow down. Is there really a need for a husband right away? Perhaps with proper assistance, a staff to do our share of the governance, you could argue—”
“You mean hire managers? Make myself a passive investor? I’d be giving over control to people with even more motive to undermine me and align with the Berabs.” Isabelle worked to keep her tone level and respectful, but given Rebecca’s expression, she was not quite succeeding. Calm—she needed to be calm. She tossed her waterlogged hair over her shoulder and squeezed, droplets rolling down her arms. “They will steal what my father built.”
“He was my son as well.” Her grandmother drew in a sharp breath. “Though I cannot say he did either one of us a great service in this regard.”
Isabelle fought to not snap at her. “He did his best. He provided for Pena and you and me, and there’s enough money that none of us will ever starve.” Onlyshewould become irrelevant and obsolete. A means to an end in someone else’s story.
Dropping her towel, she plucked her chemise and slid it over her head. “So long as half the company is still in our hands and the Lira name on the door, it’s my responsibility to fight for his legacy, to prove that I should lead—by my works, not merely my birth.” Isabelle grabbed her dagger and sheath, hooking it around her waist, before combing her fingers through her hair so it wouldn’t tangle too badly before Judith could brush it out.
A derisive snort sounded from behind her.
“What?” She glanced over her shoulder at both women. Each stared back at her with identical bemused expressions.
“I’m surprised that you managed to listen to this week’s sermon while catching your reflection in others’ jewelry. Though you clearly missed the rabbi’s reminder of how much help Moses had—from his family and friends,” Rebecca said.
“And that we, as humans, were not made ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ Our state is never static. We are merely charged with trying to continually do better.” Her grandmother smoothed her pale green silk skirts as she settled into the high-back chair near the window. “So do remember I’m seventy, not dead. And while I might not have helped with the business, I still have quite a few skills that I can contribute.”
But her skills were political ones, the kind that had helped their family muscle into plum roles in the community and make headway with the gentiles from the moment they’d set foot in England. Important skills, but only half of what was required to maintain the place they’d created for themselves. And far less potent without a male ally to act as their figurehead—an advantage that was growing more and more necessary in order to access the gentiles’ upper echelons.
Isabelle sighed. If only the Berab brothers weren’t so keen to leverage her father’s death for their benefit. To forget that they had all once been not just friends, but nearly family.
If only her father were alive, and life were as it had been a year ago.
“We’ve discussed this before,” she reminded her grandmother. “I need to marry. Who and how are the only questions. This spectacle is the best way to control those choices and maximize the benefits my husband will bring, while protecting all of us—you, me, and Pena.” She indicated for Rebecca to lean forward so she could ring the bell to recall Judith. Her friend grudgingly acquiesced between bites.
She turned back to her grandmother. “What I am doing is reasonable and rational and the best way to solidify Father’s legacy.”
