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Lady Whitely looked rather too pleased with herself. Lydia, Simon was gratified to see, appeared more uncomfortable.

“Our thoughts precisely, my lord,” Lady Whitely said. “Neither Lydia nor I had any notion that you were currently at Copfield Hall.”

“I imagine my reason for being here is similar to that of the Duke and Duchess of Tunstow. A delayed opening of Parliament has doubtless impacted most members of the House of Lords.”

“But of course.” Lady Whitely’s haughty gaze slid over Isla, and Simon felt his hackles rise. Isla’s natural beauty was undeniable, but her windswept appearance and grass-stained hem was far removed from the ideal the Whitely ladies held.

“Please introduce us to your companions, Lord Bancroft.” It was the first time Lydia had spoken. He would know her voice anywhere, but whereas it had once filled him with pleasure, its overly sweet tone now left him irritated. She had no need to be presented to Sam and Will, but by adding them to her request, she had effectively lessened the importance of Isla’s introduction.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Lady Whitely, Your Grace, you will remember Master Samuel Winslow and Master William Winslow. Gentlemen, your mother’s guests, Lady Whitely and the Duchess of Tunstow.”

The little boys bowed politely.

“Goodness,” Lydia said. “They are quite grown up since last I saw them. I hardly recognize them.”

It did not escape Simon’s notice that Lydia talked about the boys, even though they stood before her, whereas Isla had spoken to them from their very first meeting. Of course, Lydia would never deign enter into a spinning-top competition or chase a five-year-old across a lawn either. The tension in Simon’s shoulders eased, and with unforeseen pleasure, he placed his hand gently on Isla’s elbow and drew her forward. “My lady, Your Grace, may I present Miss Isla Crawford.”

Isla dropped into an elegant curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady, Your Grace.”

“Crawford, you say.” Lady Whitely’s brow furrowed. “Where does your family hail from, exactly?”

“From the north, my lady,” Isla said. “Not far from York.”

The older lady sniffed. “Well, that would explain our lack of connections.”

“I have heard it can be very wild in that part of the country,” Lydia said.

“Some may consider it so,” Isla replied. “For myself, I am grateful to have an unspoiled place where I may go to escape the clamor of the city.” She paused. “I imagine you find the same to be true for Little Twinning.”

“There are few places so lovely.” Lady Whitely offered Lydia a knowing smile. “Except, perhaps, the grounds at Tunstow Castle.”

“Where is Tunstow Castle located, Your Grace?” Isla asked.

Lydia’s eyes widened with surprise. In truth, she had probably never met anyone who had never heard of her husband’s extensive property.

“It lies on the southern edge of Dartmoor,” she said.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Isla assumed a concerned expression. “I hope you have not suffered greatly from taking your outings over boggy soil and in misty weather? I visited the Dartmouth area once in the winter, and it was very bleak.”

Biting back a smile, Simon released Isla’s elbow. She had no need of his support. Her subtle jab at Lady Whitely’s prideful comment was masterfully done, and her language usage was faultless. He did not have to look at Martha’s neighbor to sense her displeasure. It simmered in the air between them. Lydia, however, appeared taken aback.

“I confess,” Lydia said. “I have been married only a few months, and so I have yet to spend a winter at the castle.”

“You have no need to fear the shorter days or colder weather, Lydia. The duke will take good care of you.” Lady Whitely’s chin rose a fraction. “An affluent husband is a great blessing.”

It seemed that the lady wished her barbs to penetrate more than Isla alone. Attempting to maintain a placid expression, Simon flexed his fingers. The movement would do little to alleviate his mounting headache, but it was a better way to release some of the pressure building in his chest than was speaking his mind to the woman who had likely held a great deal of sway in Lydia’s decision to choose a duke of significant means over a baron with modest holdings.

“That may be true,” Isla said, “but affluence is certainly not the greatest blessing to be offered a bride. I believe that honor is held by unconditional love, which includes faithfulness, decency, and sacrifice.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Isla’s fingertips brushed against Simon’s fist. Acting instinctively, he opened his hand and curved his fingers around hers.

“As you can see,” he said, “I have a great deal to live up to.”

Lydia gasped. Her mother’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you mean to say that you are betrothed?” Lady Whitely asked.

Isla’s fingers tightened around his, but Simon did not hesitate. “We are.”