“I certainly am. It would be an honor to marry any of them,” she said with her best nod, her throat burning at the lie. Well, not exactly a lie. Many would make excellent matches, as the matchmaker had pointed out. But could she ever truly trust them, in the end, to side with her and not the Berabs—their own true peers? Evenwithleverage.
Though she couldn’t explain that to Sussex, not when his support of the community as a whole was so critical. After all, while their permitted existence should not depend on their perceived goodness, the gulf betweenshouldandiswas far too wide. Best for all their health to keep their less-than-flattering intercommunal battles hidden.
“Well said, Your Grace,” Isabelle replied instead. “Your wisdom and counsel is much appreciated.”
“I’m very glad to be of service,” the man said with a small bow. “Your father was such a good friend to me, and you are such a lovely girl. I do want the best for you and for your people.”
“I will work very hard to make both of you proud.” She gave the man another curtsy, her mind spinning with—not doubts. She never had doubts. She had thoughts—and a longing to share them with someone.
Two hours later, the crowd finally began to thin. Aaron stood back with the other performers for the entire long line of goodbyes from the multitude of people important enough or brave enough to approach the family.
The next festival might prove a challenge—musical performances. He was sure to be stuck in the shadows for that. However, the third—now that was his best chance of capturing just a bit of magic. It was to be a masked ball with no dancing, as even that could not be justified during the Omer, but a full theatrical production instead. Hopefully, Isabelle would costume him as a performer, maybe one playing a soldier or an influential townsperson. Just something more than what he was. Just to let him imagine for a few minutes.
Or, better yet, just to prelude his new reality, after he earned his fee and found a wife of his own.
What would Isabelle think of him dressed like a true gentleman? She’d never treated him with pity, but they were so far apart . . . What would it be like if they were equals? If he really was the one to accompany her to the opera like she’d suggested. Would she like him better or worse than Shultz or Weiss or whomever she was being pushed toward on her side of the community? Would he be enough? Even if he’d been born with more luck, would he have still failed to make, well, anything of himself? Or more, if he did earn the two hundred pounds, would it truly change his life?
“Mrs. Lira, this evening was just spectacular.” A deep male voice boomed across the room, drawing Aaron’s attention.
“Mr. Berab, it was so lovely for you and your brothers to honor us with your presence tonight.” Isabelle’s grandmother blocked the man who spoke, and presumably his brothers, from view.
“It was our honor to be invited,” a different man responded in a strong tenor.
“As if there was any doubt? Your family has been our dear friends for so long,” Isabelle’s grandmother replied, her voice warm—almost as warm as when she had addressed the Duke of Sussex. But not quite enough to hide the clear note of insincerity underneath, piquing his curiosity.
Not that Isabelle’s grandmother’s social life and political rivalries were his business. However, it was odd. And there was something rather familiar about her, something he couldn’t quite place, that drew him in.
Quick as he could, he slid away from the group and ducked behind a large fern, contorting to hide his limbs. Pivoting, he dipped farther into the shadows, angling himself so he could still watch the family—and these brothers, of whom he now had a clear view.
“And we feel the same way about you.” The eldest of the three’s tone was congenial, but his eyes narrowed beneath his large brows. “And we care about dear Isabelle and making sure her future is successful and most beneficial and pleasant for all involved.”
“Which is why my brother and I want to reiterate our offers of marriage. Either of us would make a superior choice.” The second of the group clasped a hand on the shoulder of the youngest and, by far, the most handsome of the three, who glanced down at his polished boots, his cheeks coloring.
Oy. More suitors. Berab . . . Berab . . . Why did that name sound familiar? Aaron ran his tongue over his teeth. The eldest, the one not offering his hand, he was a delegate, right? Which should make either of the other two much more desirable, and yet the way Isabelle’s grandmother spoke to them . . . He stared harder as his mind churned.
“We’re so very flattered by your generous offer, Louis. And Roger’s as well. They are much appreciated.” Mrs. Lira practically batted her eyes at the men. “You both are being carefully considered.”
“Excellent. I’m gladyouat least are open to reason.” The eldest’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps you can convince your granddaughter that marrying one of my brothers would be best for not only her but for your family, for ours, and for the community. Both my brothers are far better matches than someone like Solomon Weiss, with better connections and established places in the community. Not to mention, the integration into the business would be a great deal smoother.”
“Oh, but smooth waters make for a dull ride.” It was Isabelle who spoke, drawing closer, her inflection and tone almost identical to her grandmother’s.
Four heads turned. Even the youngest—Richard? Roger?—was no longer studying the wood grain in the floor—instead staring shyly at her. Though who could blame him? She really did carry herself like a queen.
“I didn’t take you for an adventurer.” The middle brother—what was his name again? Levi? Lionel? Louis?—edged toward Isabelle, a genuine curiosity in his tone.
“I’m a Lira. I assess risk, but I don’t shy away from it when there’s a good reward,” she told the middle brother, her bright smile now competing with the chandeliers.
“You sound like your late father,” he murmured before moving so close to Isabelle that his sleeve brushed the gap between her gloves and her sleeve.
Aaron moved out from the shadows, to Pena’s side, using the other man’s body to shield him from view, though still keeping close enough to—well, he didn’t know precisely what, but at least put some sort of end to anything inappropriate, he supposed.
What was with these men taking unrequested liberties with her person?
“Louis,” the eldest snapped.
Isabelle, however, merely laughed. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, considering your plans for me.” Whipping out her fan, she backed away, far enough that this Louis would have to reach out to touch her again.
The knot in Aaron’s chest loosened. She truly was quite adept, wasn’t she?
