CHAPTER ONE
It had been a matter of hours since Isolde Wilds had debuted into society, and already she was wondering if there was a single eligible, pleasant gentleman to be found.
“Heavens, Vincent, where have you been hiding thisexceptionalcreature? Lady Isabel, is it not?” a gentleman named Lord Pomfrey cheered, the glassiness of his eyes behind a golden mask suggesting he had freely been partaking of the port and punch that was on offer at Kensington Palace.
Everyone, Isolde included, had been thrilled when the announcement had come that the debut ball of the Season, where she would make her entrance into society with the rest of the debutantes, was to be held in such an illustrious environment. Society had spoken of nothing else for weeks. Isolde had spoken of nothing else for weeks, eager for the day to come at last.
The fact that it was a masquerade too only made it more exciting, though Isoldehadwondered if it was a rather foolish idea, considering the point of a debut ball was supposed to be that the debutantes wereseenfor the first time.
Isolde smiled politely at Lord Pomfrey, lowering her own gaze behind a mask of ornate silver and bronze vines and leaves, coiling over the bridge of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, and around her eyes as if they were part of her. Vincent had had it imported from Venice, and it was already drawing a great deal of attention.
Which, Isolde supposed, was what a young lady wanted on the night of her debut.
“Lady Isolde,” she corrected the loud man, praying he would not ask for a dance. “But I can understand the confusion, Lord Pomfrey. The names are so very similar. You would not be the first to muddle them, nor shall you be the last; I am sure.”
She chuckled just enough to be considered demure, rather than obnoxious or discourteous, remembering the lessons she had received over the past few years. After a somewhat memorable—for all the wrong reasons—house party at her family’s residence, Grayling House, she had been thrown into elocution and deportment and comportment lessons at once by her mother.
“You will never embarrass us like that again, you wretched girl! If your father were here, he would not stand for it! Why, I am almost glad he is dead so that he did not have to see such behavior!”Six years later, Isolde still remembered her mother’sfurious words, though she liked to think she had done her best to make amends since then.
“What didIsay?” Lord Pomfrey tilted his head to one side, clearly too inebriated to remember what he had called her.
Vincent clapped the man on the back. “It is of no consequence. Now, if you will excuse me, our mother is waving for us to come over, and we should not keep her waiting.”
“But I—” Lord Pomfrey slurred, then tailed off, no doubt forgetting what it was he had meant to say. An invitation to dance, most likely.
Venturing back into the security of the masked crowd, Isolde patted her brother’s hand and flashed him a smile. “Thank you, Brother.”
“For what?” Vincent replied, grinning. He wore an unusual golden mask that was apparently meant to be a fox but looked more like a ferret to Isolde’s amused eyes. She had neglected to tell him as much, for politeness’ sake.
“I know I should not be terribly particular on my debut evening, but Iamglad to not have to dance with such a gentleman,” Isolde replied. “At best, my toes would be broken by the end. At the worst, he would forget what he was doing halfway through the dance and wander off, leaving me mortified. And one should never be mortified in the midst of a country dance. A quadrille—now, that is mortifying for everyone.”
Vincent chuckled. “You have only yourself to blame.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Vincent paused, staring down at her for a moment with solemnity in his blue eyes. “It is no secret that I had my concerns over the years,” he explained haltingly. “There was a time when I worried you were as half-wild as Prudie, but… you have surprised me, Isolde. Which, in and of itself, should not be so surprising.”
“I still do not have the faintest idea what you are saying,” she teased, aware of many eyes on her.
Gentlemen had been staring ever since she made her entrance in her splendid gown of cream silk, the skirt and bodice painstakingly adorned with pearlescent beads that caught the light in the most remarkable way. She preferred to think that they were merely admiring the craftsmanship of the gown, rather than looking at her; it seemed less intimidating that way.
Vincent gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Nor do I know what it is I am trying to say.” He paused. “I know I have been stricter with you since that unfortunate business with Edmund at our residence, but I am not sorry for it. I am proud of you, Isolde. Proud of the charming, elegant, demure young lady you have become. Prouder still that you have not entirely given up your sharp sense of humor, though you are better at hiding it now—it bewilders and adds to your charm where it once outright offended.”
“I took pains to study the world’s greatest humorists, and though I am not nearly as entertaining as they are or were, I do well enough. As long as I amuse those who are dearest to me instead of embarrassing them, I am quite content with my wit,” Isolde teased, feeling a little sorry that she hadforcedher brother to be stricter with her.
It had not been her intention. Six years ago, she had simply been trying to protect him and had gone about it all wrong.
“You could never embarrass me, Isolde,” Vincent assured, resuming their subtle promenade through the crowd once more.
“I wish Mama had the same faith,” Isolde remarked wryly. “Where is she, anyway? Did you not say she was waving us over?”
Vincent grinned from ear to ear, making his mask look more like a wolf than a fox or a ferret for a moment. “I have no notion of where our mother has wandered off to, but if there is one thing that is guaranteed to deter a gentleman from pursuing a lady, it is mentioning one’s mother. Then again, I think you probably could have dispensed with subterfuge and distracted Lord Pomfrey just by pointing to something shiny.”
“The trouble is,” Isolde countered, “Iam rather shiny tonight.”
“‘Dazzling’ is the word I have heard several gentlemen use.” Vincent really did seem pleased, like a weight was slowly lifting off his shoulders. He now had one sister out in society, with two to go—that was reason enough to relax a little.
And when I am married, he will not have to worry about me at all anymore.It saddened her and gladdened Isolde in equal measure as she cast her brother a sideways glance. It could not have been easy to take on the role of the Earl of Grayling at the age of four-and-ten, long before he was ready, but he had dedicated his life to his family, slowly filling the shoes of the father who had passed beforehistime.
