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Isabel wrinkled her nose. Richard made some good points. A happily married woman would not spread vile rumors about her husband and then leave him alone to…

But she hadn’t left him alone. She’d left her daughter with the man she called cruel and beastly. What woman would do that? There was more to the story, Isabel was certain. And she needed to know more before she retracted her decision. “Richard, I know you are worried—”

“No, don’t take that mothering tone with me. You are not my mother, and even if you were, I would not allow you to sacrifice yourself for this family. How can our family prosper if you are in harm’s way?”

There. And that was what solidified Isabel’s belief that Vane’s wife was not as innocent as she proclaimed. There was no better future for the person who left their loved ones in harm’s way.

So either she’d lied about Vane’s beastly nature to escape with her lover, or she’d left her daughter in the hands of a beast.

Perhaps there was a third option Isabel was not taking into account, but she wouldn’t damn her family and drag them all to ruin based on a rumor. She needed to know more. And she knew exactly the person who could help her with that.

Chapter 5

The Duchess of Somerset’s carriage rolled up in front of the Gage townhouse the next day. A groom opened the door and helped Isabel inside.

Evie smiled brightly as Isabel sat opposite her. “How happy I am to see you! And extremely glad you decided to marry the marquess, after all. I am certain you two will be a perfect couple.”

Isabel smiled tightly. “I highly doubt it.”

Evie laughed as the carriage jolted into a start. “So, let’s talk about your trousseau!”

Isabel pursed her lips. A trousseau. Her trousseau.

Isabel had resigned herself to never even think of a trousseau for herself, let alone order it. She had helped her sister Sam with her needs when she had married, but now that it came to her, she was absolutely lost. And if she could have anyone help her in this matter, there was no one better than the most fashionable lady of the ton.

“I’ve made a list of things we need to order, and I am quite certain Madame Deville will be able to make most of it on time,” Evie said. “When did you say the wedding will take place?”

Isabel swallowed. “Sunday.”

She was suddenly feeling queasy.

“So soon! Well, I have all the faith in my favorite modiste.” Evie nodded resolutely. “But before we get there, I’d love to know how you came to accept Vane’s proposal. Has your heart changed regarding the marquess?”

Isabel bit on her lip. “It has. If it is possible, I dislike him even more.”

Evie’s mouth slacked open. “Oh, no! Why did you agree to marry him then?”

“I had little choice in the matter. The rumors became vicious, and people started declining invitations to Richard’s betrothal ball—which we would have weathered. But then he lost his fiancée over it.”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Me either.” Isabel shook her head. “But polite members of the ton refuse to socialize with fallen women. And by all definitions of the word, I did fall.”

Evie let out a burst of laughter, then covered her mouth with her hand. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to laugh.”

Isabel grinned. “No, please! Feel free to find joy in my misery. At least something good will come of it then.”

Evie bit her lip. “I am so sorry. I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Please, do not even think that. You are not at fault that I fell onto him at your ball. If anything, it was Stanhope’s fault.” She laughed nervously and picked at her fingertips.

“You do not have to worry about Stanhope. I do not presume to know what transpired between you two, but my husband threatened him good and well.”

Isabel smiled faintly. She was grateful to Evie and her husband, but Stanhope was truly the least of her problems. He was not violent, even if too loose with his hands, but Isabel could fend off an attack from him. She didn’t fear him.

Her betrothed was another thing altogether. Behind the closed doors of his familial estate, her husband could do to her as he wished, and nobody would be in a position to lend her a hand. And living in a house full of people who loathed her was not an enticing prospect either.

“Actually, my trousseau is not the only reason why I called you today.” Isabel played with the pleats of her skirt.