Several whispers floated upon the air.
"Did he say America?"
"Americans are scoundrels."
"They've infiltrated our war with France."
Charles angled his head toward Isabella, knowing she heard the rude whispers as well. She cast her glance at the floor briefly before raising it back to the members of the ton. Isabella straightened her back. How proud he was of her at that moment. Most he had known would have crumbled or taken a step back at least. But not his Isabella. His? Was she? If only it were so.
Charles took a slight step to the left, guiding Isabella to follow. "Lord Harmon Stratton, may I present Lady Isabella Hodgkin."
Isabella held out her hand. "Lord Stratton, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
"And I you, Lady Isabella." He leaned forward, took her hand, and placed a light kiss on the back of her glove. When he straightened, he darted a gaze to his left. Charles noticed Lord Stratton's wife squeeze her husband's arm none too gently. What have we here?
Charles then pivoted toward her. "Lady Theodora Stratton, may I present Lady Isabella Hodgkin." He watched the woman carefully to see her reaction to Isabella. She narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips as if chewing a lemon. Envy? Of Isabella?
Lady Stratton tilted her head. "Lady Isabella, what a pleasure to meet you."
"And you as well, Lady Stratton."
Charles and Isabella continued down the line until she'd been introduced to them all. He glanced at Isabella, making sure she was holding up under the pressure. Her eyes appeared glazed and her hands trembled. She'd had enough for the moment. Charles took her hand and leaned close. "Isabella, how about some refreshment?"
The expression she gave him was that of a shipwrecked sailor having been rescued on the day he'd eaten his final morsel. "Thank you, Ch-your grace. That would be lovely."
Murmurs followed them as they moved toward the refreshment tables.
"She's American, did you hear?"
"He referred to her as Lady.
"Have you met her family?"
Charles handed her a drink and found them places to sit. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "Yes. It was brutal, though. You weren't kidding about the… well, you know."
"Yes, I do know. You were wonderful."
"Thank you, your grace."
Charles saw something out of the corner of his eye. After looking up to see what it was, he angled his head toward Isabella and lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Lady Caulfield is fast approaching. She's a busybody of the first order and will stop at nothing to find out who you are and where you—"
"Your grace!"
Charles stood and bowed, taking the older woman's hand. "Lady Caulfield, how delightful to see you." He placed a light kiss on her glove.
"Why thank you, your grace. But enough about us, who is this beautiful creature with you?"
Charles pivoted toward Isabella, making sure she alone could see him. Rolling his eyes, he reached for her hand and helped her stand. Isabella bit her lip, seemingly holding back a grin.
"Lady Caufield, may I introduce Lady Isabella Hodgkin?"
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Isabella. And might I add, you are a beautiful young woman."
Charles glanced at Isabella, who was blushing. She glanced back toward Charles before answering.
"Thank you, Lady Caufield, it's a pleasure to meet you as well."
The older woman held out her hand to Isabella, who, after a slight hesitation held hers out, too.
"Lady Isabella, I must steal you away for a while. I'm sure his grace won't mind."
Charles watched, mouth agape, as Lady Caufield pulled Isabella across the room. Isabella's eyes were round, pleading with him to save her. He took a step to follow them just as a strong hand wrapped around his arm. He pivoted around to find the culprit. Lady Wiling.
"Your grace, I must insist you have a turn around the floor with my lovely Alberta."
Charles held in a sigh. Alberta Wiling was not lovely in any remote way of thinking. However, the rules of the ton did not give an innocent duke a good excuse to refuse.
"Of course, Lady Wiling. It would be my great pleasure." Charles followed Lady Wiling, willing his feet to not turn the other direction and flee. As they skirted the edge of the ballroom floor, Charles briefly closed his eyes. This was precisely the reason he avoided social functions. The last thing he wanted was to dance with another woman. All he wanted was Isabella.
"Here's my lovely daughter. Isn't she stunning?"
Charles squelched a gasp. The poor girl was positively hideous, from her unfortunate choice of mustard-yellow dress to her severe overbite. Her crossed eyes were just an unpleasant bonus. "Yes, indeed. Quite… stunning."
Being a gentleman of the first order, he bowed and extended his hand. Lady Alberta jumped up, obviously ecstatic to have someone of the male species ask her to dance. In her exuberance, she hopped toward Charles, flapping her arms about, resembling a cross-eyed goldfinch in flight. It was all Charles could do to hold his ground, even when both feet were crushed simultaneously by said goldfinch.
Charles tried to ignore his throbbing toes and once again extended his hand. This time Lady Alberta, slightly calmer now, took his hand. She glanced at him, then away. When other young women would have giggled coquettishly, what emerged from Alberta was more of a cackle.
The hair on the back of Charles' neck stood on end, sending a current of surprise and embarrassment running down his back. He darted a glance around them and saw several people covering their mouths politely with their gloved hands, trying to ward off ill-timed laugher. Sighing, Charles led Alberta out on the ballroom dance floor just as the music began to play. He'd observed her dancing with other partners at previous balls and knew of her abilities. She danced as Charles imagined one of his horses might if given the opportunity. However, the horses would be much more graceful.
Charles spotted Isabella by peering over his dance partner's head, made difficult because of the huge orange feather in her hair. Isabella appeared to be smiling, yet Charles noticed she gritted her teeth. Then he saw the reason. Lord Stanchbach, Lady Caufield's nephew, was bowing before Isabella, trying to take her hand for a kiss. The man was known for his whistle, and not from his mouth. As far as Charles knew, Lord Stanchbach was the only man in the ton with that particular nostril talent.
As Charles circled around the floor with Alberta, who dragged two dance steps behind, he watched Isabella. She was being led onto the ballroom floor. Charles inwardly cursed. The fact her first public dance would not be with him was a crime against his heart. Just then, Isabella lifted her gaze, which found his. She gave a small shrug, tilted her head slightly toward her dance partner, and took a deep breath. Charles had practiced with her as much as possible for tonight, but they had only had so much time in which to do it.
He watched closely. Her feet performed the correct dance steps at the correct time. Good girl. Her hands were in the proper position in reference to her partner. Although it galled Charles to not be the one holding her, he was quite proud of her. She was doing beautifully. And as far as who her partner happened to be at the moment, Charles planned to take the man's place as soon as politely possible.
Chapter Seven
Isabella counted the dance steps in her head, trying not to trip, while nodding at the appropriate times to her dance partner's boring conversation. On top of his tediousness, the man had a whistle. And not from his mouth! If Izzy hadn't been trying so hard to concentrate on not falling, it might have been funny. Lord Stanchbach laughed, which, unfortunately, Izzy already knew preceded a nose whistle. She held her breath. Wait for it…
Whrr.
Izzy inwardly groaned. How was she supposed to act interested in a boring, nose-whistling dance partner when all she wanted to do was be with Charles? She'd imagined their first dance together here at the ball, him holding her in his strong arms as they glided around the polished floor. Others wo
uld nod and smile at them, admiring how perfectly paired they were. It would have been her first actual dance outside of Charles' den.
Whrr.
She held back a pout at her dilemma and focused again on counting dance steps. No use making a further spectacle of herself than she already had. Her appearance here with Charles and her accent accomplished it by themselves. She had no wish to embarrass him further.
Whrr.
Oh bother, couldn't the man control his noisy nose? A glance to her left showed amused stares from other dancers, especially some of the women. Had they all at one time been subjected to Lord Whistler? She darted another glimpse around the room found Charles and his dance partner. Merciful Heavens, the poor girl he danced with resembled a buck-toothed canary. Charles had a fake smile plastered on his face making him look as if he'd swallowed something distasteful.
How had Izzy and Charles ended up apart, dancing with not only other partners, but also partners who happened to be so unpleasant? She sighed. It couldn't be helped now. Hopefully Charles would rescue her soon. Surely the dance music would end this month. How long could one song be?
Izzy let out a breath when the music ended. Finally. She glanced behind her to look for Charles then felt a tug on her hand. When she angled a glance back at her dance partner, she remembered her manners. Pasting what hopefully passed as a pleasant expression on her lips, she waited.
Lord Stanchbach bowed, planting a noisy slurpy kiss on her hand. Thank goodness for gloves. Gross. "Lady Isabella, it's been a pleasure dancing with you."
Izzy steeled herself for the untruthful remark she must make. "And what a pleasure for me as well, Lord Stanchbach." There. Now maybe she could escape the man and his magical singing nostril.
But the man wouldn't release her hand. "If I may, Lady Isabella, could I escort you to the refreshment ta—"
A hand grasped the lord's shoulder. It's Charles. "Lord Stanchbach, I believe I heard your aunt calling for you. Way over there, across the room."
The man frowned, nodded, and released Izzy's hand. "Lady Isabella, perhaps another time?"
"Certainly, my lord." Izzy waited until Lord Stanchbach was out of earshot. She leaned closer to Charles and lowered her voice. "Oh, Charles, it was hideous. The man's nose—"
He held up a hand. "Trust me, Isabella, I know. When I saw what had happened to you, I felt horrible."
"It wasn't your fault. You were waylaid by that yellow canary."
"Lady Alberta. Actually her mother did the waylaying, but the end result was the same."
Music filtered to them from the orchestra. Soft strains surrounded them, causing Izzy's heartbeat to increase. Would it now be her turn to dance with Charles?
He held out his hands. "Lady Isabella, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
"Your grace, it would be my honor."
As they walked toward the dance floor, Izzy noticed some of the women. They weren't just staring; they were also pointing and whispering. Then they were laughing. At her. Izzy stole a glance at Charles. Headed toward the middle of the floor, he didn't seem to notice what was happening. Were the other women jealous? Had some of them hoped Charles would have asked them to dance?
Izzy squared her shoulders and decided not to let it bother her. Dancing with Charles was the only thing she'd been looking forward to this night. She was determined to enjoy it.
She fit in Charles' arms as if she were made for him. As soon as they moved to the music, everything, everyone else faded away. Charles' face was all Izzy could see, his sweet whispered encouragement, all she could hear. Izzy now knew that Charles' lips were indeed as sweet to kiss. It was as if no other dancers shared the floor with them. They were two dancing as one, their heartbeats aligned with each other's.
Around and around, they glided and turned. Izzy had never felt so alive, never so… loved. Love? Was this the elusive emotion she'd longed for but thought would never be hers? She tilted her head, peering into Charles' dark eyes. In that moment, she thought she saw love there, for her, and only her. Feeling as if she could conquer the world, she felt laughter bubble up from her chest. Swaying and leaning against Charles, her life seemed now complete, as if the missing piece of her heart was now in place.
The music ended. Charles released her, except for her hand. He bowed, kissed her hand gently, and tilted his head toward the sitting area.
Izzy nodded. They didn't need words, it seemed, as they were so in tune with each other. How had this happened, that someone she'd known for two weeks held the key to her heart, the key to her future? She shook her head as they made their way from the dance floor. Her future? Her past? How confusing it all seemed, yet somehow, so right, so perfect. Charles glanced back toward her, the left side of his mouth rose, which formed his dimple. She loved that dimple. It did things to her, things she could only whisper in private to him, and would, given the chance.
Voices carried from the fall wall. At first, it was just background noise, then more insistent. She blocked it out, her only focus being Charles. But then… she heard her name.
"Lady Isabella, indeed. I've never heard of her before. Have you?"
"Did you see how close they danced?"
"Quite a spectacle on the ballroom floor. They should be ashamed to act so in public."
"No, Lady Isabella is new. Where his grace found her, I haven't a clue. But they seem a little too familiar."
"Scandalous how they danced. Simply scandalous!"
Izzy's face burned. It was surely red. Should she act like she hadn't heard them? A quick glance to her left told her everyone near had heard. What should she do? Had she and Charles danced inappropriately? She'd been so focused on him she hadn't paid attention to how they might have appeared to the ton.
Charles stopped walking and angled toward Izzy. Taking her hands in his, he said, "Lady Isabella, I think it is time to escort you home. Come, let us depart from this… place."
Gasps of horror zipped through the crowd.
"Did you hear him?"
"How rude!"
"Such behavior from a duke. Dancing so close, then insulting the ton!"
Izzy hurried behind Charles as he picked up his pace. The set of his shoulders showed tension. He was angry. Was it on her behalf? While she was flattered, she also felt as if she'd let him down. Embarrassment had rained down upon him and his reputation because of her. If they had been in her time, nothing they'd said or done would have caused a ripple of notice from anyone, here everything was scrutinized and dissected. While dancing with Charles, Izzy hadn't meant to be so close to him. It just seemed… right.
Charles led Izzy to the Kringles. After thanking them for their hospitality, their coats were fetched by the butler. Charles took her hand, leading her down the steps. They'd not spoken a word to each other since the dance. She knew he was angry. Was it directed at the ton or at her?
She swallowed hard. It had never been her intention to hurt him. Now, recognizing her feelings for him as being love, her heart felt it would break. Tears threatened to squeeze past her eyelids. Izzy kept the tears back by holding her eyes shut for a moment.
She stood outside the gate while Charles flagged down their driver. Until then, Izzy hadn't given a thought to where the driver had been. The poor man must have sat in the coach nearby just waiting for Charles' signal when they were ready to leave. As the carriage pulled up, Charles took her hand in his. He wouldn't make eye contact with her. Had she ruined any chance for them to be together now that she'd realized she loved him?
Charles helped Izzy climb into the carriage then followed her. He sat on the opposite seat, looking out the window at the bright starry night. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but the words died on her tongue. What could she say? She'd ruined his chance of ever being comfortable with his friends again. Would he ever forgive her?
Just when she feared he wouldn't speak, he angled closer but kept his gaze on his knees. "Isabella, please forgive me."
"What?" Surely she hadn't h
eard him correctly.
"I've treated you unfairly."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"It was to be your special night. Your first ball."
"That doesn't matter to me. I did this for you." Izzy reached out a hand to him then pulled it back.
He raised his glance to her. "But—"
"The only reason we're here is so your uncle would leave you alone about finding a wife, remember?"
He shrugged. "I think I lost sight of the fact as we prepared for the ball. With the dancing, the plan of what we would tell the ton, it all seemed to—"
"Fall away?"
He nodded. "Yes. Exactly. So you're not angry?"
"I thought you would be. With me."
"Oh, Isabella. Not with you. Never with you."
He's not upset with me!
"Then…" She lifted her hand, palm up.
Charles aimed his thumb toward the back of the carriage. "Those people back there. Close-minded and narrow-focused. They have no decency or compassion. If something or someone doesn't fit their tiny idea of propriety, they ridicule and point fingers."
Izzy frowned. "While I didn't like hearing them talk about us like they did, believe me, I've heard much worse."
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "I wanted to remove you from the situation before it escalated. If we had stayed, they would have eventually pressured you, us, with so many pointed question and accusations, it would have been uncomfortable at best, and extremely hurtful otherwise. I've seen people, men and women alike, reduced to sobs from the venom the people of the ton can spew."
Izzy shook her head. "My word, how do you call them your friends if they're like that?"
"They are not my friends. Friends should be trustworthy, honest, kind."
Izzy felt the corners of her mouth lift. "Like you. You're all those things."
He took her hands in his and cleared his throat. "I thought, that is to say, I hoped…"
"You hoped what?"
He squeezed her hands gently. "That you and I were more than friends."
Time for a Duke Page 7