“Money is a tool. Even the sharpest knife can’t cut butter that doesn’t exist. Besides, if you know you can’t have what you want, there’s no profit in wishing for it.” She gave him her most imperious nod. “As is arguing when it gains you nothing.” She edged toward the door as she worked to regain all her composure.
But he gave her a surprisingly full smile in response. “I won’t say it gains me nothing. I enjoy arguing. It makes the time go by. Besides, isn’t that what we’re known best for?”
“Indeed.” She glanced toward the doorway, already bracing herself to rally for the crowd once more. “I should get back.”
“Perhaps Weiss will have brought you more of these.” He reached behind his back and thrust a plate filled with berries at her.
Had he always had that? Where had he been hiding it? His sleight of hand skills truly were impressive. No wonder children adored him so much. The Great Synagogue should really pay him double. Perhaps her family should make another donation after her marriage.
“Thank you,” she murmured before popping one into her mouth—and another and another as he watched. She pushed the plate toward him, offering them to him, but he shook his head. Finally, she’d filled herself and they were left staring. At each other. Again.
She inhaled. “So.”
“So,” he replied, running his hand over the top of the table. “Out of curiosity, did you enjoyWilliam Tell?”
She started. Of all the questions . . . She wrinkled her nose. “Very much so. Why?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I saw it too. Well, some of it. I’d sneaked in and hid backstage . . .”
Excitement rose and she leaned forward. “I wish you could’ve seen the whole thing, from a seat. It was just . . .” She wobbled a little. “Foolish rug,” she muttered as he raced over, threading his arm through hers, steadying her against his body. And the heat was back.
“Clearly.” Amusement in his voice as those odd tingles shot through her entire being.
“Anyway.” She righted herself against him before pushing off, onto her own two feet. “It was brilliant—the cast, the score, all of it. I saw it with my grandmother, Pena, and my father, but I—you would’ve been excellent company.”
His eyes grew wide, and he stared at her for a long moment. “I see Weiss isn’t the only charming liar about.”
Only years of practice hid her flinch. What she’d said was true—while she adored her family, it would’ve been enjoyable to watch with someone closer to her age. Especially someone as handsome and easy to speak with as Aaron. Not that she could tell him that. Instead, she adjusted her bracelets and stuck her nose in the air, in her best, most haughty imitation of her grandmother. “Takes one to know one.”
He blinked at her before a wide smile spread over his lips, and the blasted tingles were back.
“We’ll have to see how many more you find.” He winked at her, and damned if she didn’t threaten to wobble once more. After this was over, she was going to bed. For a day and a half. At least. Someone could bring the contracts and books and information files to her.
Ears still ringing from the conversation with Aaron, Isabelle reentered her festival with the poise and grace that had been drilled into her from birth. With her most practiced, solicitous smile, she greeted each guest carefully and personally as she pressed farther into the room.
“There you are.” Her grandmother took her arm the moment she passed the refreshment table, preventing her from grabbing a glass of champagne for fortification. She pulled Isabelle along with a forceful yank. “I need you to make more time for a few people, starting with His Grace,” she whispered in her ear before releasing her hold.
Isabelle rubbed her arm before tipping her chin to acknowledge the tall, regal man, of whom her father had always been so fond. She bobbed into her deepest, most formal curtsy, despite the fact she’d once rode the man’s back as if he were a horse while he crawled on the floor of her father’s office. In her defense, she had been five at the time.
“Miss Lira, how are you?” The Duke of Sussex brushed his now gray curls from his forehead, his smile as kind as she remembered.
“I’m well, Your Grace. A trifle nervous, but well.” She pushed to match his warmth. Her grandmother gave her one of those famous nudges—ow. Isabelle rubbed her side. Now that was going to bruise. “Thank you so much for honoring us with your presence.”
“It is I who am honored to be your guest. I was so fond of your late father.” The duke inclined his head, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I don’t fault you for being nervous. It’s a lot of attention at once, but I know you’re more than worthy of it.”
Isabelle flushed. If only. Though this was a man to emulate. His propensity for charm was unparalleled. If there was anyone who could succeed in pushing through emancipation, it was most certainly him. She fluttered her fan. “Oh, Your Grace, that’s very kind of you to say.”
“It’s very true,” the older man said. His voice lowered more. “Which is why I wanted to mention something to you.” He glanced around before beckoning her a few steps farther away from the crowd. “I couldn’t help but notice you spent quite a bit of time with Solomon Weiss.”
Isabelle frowned. Was there an issue with Weiss? One Aaron hadn’t identified? Or worse, hadn’t told her? A small sting twisted in her gut, even as she schooled her features and searched for the proper response to the duke’s query. “He was very attentive, Your Grace, though I do not know him well. Do you know his family?”
“Only a touch,” the man said. “His older brother is friendly with the Viscount Penrose and his sister. Decent people.” The duke pursed his lips. “And I’m sure not a bad choice. Though I know you have many excellent choices at your disposal. Choices who will no doubt benefit your standing in your community and ours.”
Isabelle searched her mind for a proper response, to not offend their most important ally.
“I truly hope so,” she said simply.
“The younger Weiss might do quite well,” the duke continued. “He and his brother seem to learn fast. However, I have found even allies in my world hold onto prejudices, ridiculous as they may be. Especially against those who are more newly arrived in England,” he added. “Not that your charm can’t smooth those relationships. It’s only . . . I have met so many excellent men at Bevis Marks through my friendship with Rabbi Raphael, whose council I value dearly. Though I am sure you too are acquainted with such men and are carefully considering them as well.”
